TIME by: Lydia Dildilian (Not like the magazine)

Ok--so where to begin, time that is a pretty open subject in my my studio practice. I guess the best way for me to start is to go into the actual sad reality of how many hours, I slave away in my studio. I often think of The Avett Brothers song lyric, "I work less like a work horse and more like a slave." Its more like a second home to me than anything. If that tells you anything. If I had a bed in there, I don't think I would ever go home. I feel like time kind of stops when I am in my space working. The days meld together and before you know it--- it's not the weekend any more. There is an odd type of transitory space that my minds seems to go to when I work. My body seems to stay in reality some what, but my mind drifts to a place were time seems to not effect it. Not that it stops but it drifts in and out or this weird melding of time and space collapse inward, like unfolding action, if you will. I am not a religious person really but I would describe myself as more of a spiritual person, I guess where I am trying to go with this, is that there is this odd moment, when I am working and this time collapse thing happens and I find myself close to something I really can't explain. Maybe that is god or a giant spaghetti monster, or perhaps I have finally inhaled to many solvents over the years and I am now crazy. Time finds it's way into my studio and it affects me in the most confusing of ways. From the long hours that I spend working or from the many mistakes, that I have to make to finally realize the correct solution to the problem.

I thought i would share this photo with everyone because it some ways. I feel like when, I work in this fashion (painting/ installation) I am like some analog clock, recording my fleeting moments of this weird time/space concatenation. 

Time

I think my work has a lot to do with time but I have never really thought about it. As a photographer I create images that represent segments of time. All of the processes I primarily work with are archaic and require a good deal of time. The wet plate collodion process that I am doing requires time of me and my subjects The work I am currently doing requires me to monitor UV output at different times so that I get the results I want. Since I am very process oriented everything I work is made to archival. I read somewhere recently that "if you take the time it will stand the test of time".

Jessi's Relationship to Time in Art Practice

Time makes me scared and stressed out. I seem to go through periods where I have way too much time and have no idea what to do with myself, and other periods when I feel like time is just slipping through my hands. It kind of rules everything if I let it. I'm not really sure how to think of time in my work aside from the fact that I spend time doing it. But I think there's more to it than that, I just haven't given it much thought before. Time exists on its own within all of our work. In one way or another, my paintings are reflections on wandering and the attempt to get lost. Can I  make myself forget the time? This happens when I'm working in the studio. I don't work by any windows so it's difficult to tell if it's light or dark outside (like in casinos). This is really the only time my mind can transcend time, if we are so engaged in something that we forget. I don't like to replicate specific times in my paintings but more so a dreamlike sense of time, where the presence of it is known, but not pressing.

Time and Forever

I start with a picture of a screen print I did a couple years ago called "Time and Forever" for a show called "The Endless One". The question of time has been one that weaves itself in and out of the work I create and impacts us all. I am fascinated by it's duality, it's empirical nature that lords over experience in a very empirical, factual way and it's phantom-like ability to allude both theologian and scientist. The search for what time is in my own work is a mixture of faith and studying readings of the sciences, primarily theoretical physics. The wonder is in the similarity of both practices to live out and search for the reality of the unseen and apply the information from both fields in an effectual way. I take the example of  timelessness mentioned in Biblical text. "Heaven" is referred to as "Eternity" or endlessness, a dimension where there is no entropy. "The last days" is explained in a scenario where entropy or the arrow of time is seemingly reversed. All these "outlandish" notions of extra dimensionality, the reversal of entropy and the existence of an eternal plane where past present and future coincide at once, can actually exist...or at least it can in numbers, and it does in many theological studies. I can't help but think that there is something more to this. Mathematicians and physicists have been grappling with the notion of time and the infinite for centuries through use of equations and symbols to create a hypothesis that can suggest the seemingly "impossible"...the possibility of endlessness, putting in place the framework that time itself is an entity stemming from a singular point that it will return to. With this in mind I begin building. Each piece created also serves as a hypothesis stemming from personal inquiry about time, God, the universe, testing the limits of what may be viewed as "common sense" in hopes that the effects of wonder will spill over and serve as a catalyst propelling forward topics of faith and research in the arts, in our personal living,  bringing together communities of varying thought and practice.

TIME

     The concept of time becomes more and more relevant as I deepen my spiritual practice.  I strive to only live in the present moment, without lingering over the past or being anxious for the future.  Meditation as well as yoga has helped me delve deeper into the now.  This desire for being in the present moment heavily influences my artistic practice.  My work has become a meditation practice in itself.  I stay with each mark, I become the brush, the ink, the paper.  The movement of my hand never becomes monotonous, each gesture is witnessed.  When I work, I am entirely void of thought.  I let go of the ego.  At times I become formless, I no longer belong to myself.   

Practice in relation to time

Working within the parameters of photography, time is inescapable as it exists intrinsically within the medium.  Even as I venture outside the realms of photographic capture in the traditional sense, there is still an element of capture in some moment, as I fail to achieve any materiality beyond the realms of such a method of capture as a sole means of creation.  

There is a general perception that a photograph freezes time, but I have come to an understanding of it collecting a series of moments in time, allowing us to perceive several moments of what was currently the present which then becomes the past as it enters the future.  It is only in our perception of smaller fractals of times that these moments feel like a singular experience.  The more I work with multiple images to enhance and enlarge as a singular image (through methods of collage or stitching or what have you) this becomes more evident.  In the piecing of hundreds and sometimes thousands of images to produce a digital panorama, I experience a larger realm of time.  In the culmination and understanding of this collage into a singularity, multiple instances of time and space are present (and past) but not evident.  In this passive engagement of hours (maybe days or weeks?) in a single frame of existence, time reaches or nears an almost sublime state of incommensurability (hopefully).

In this relation of sublime and incommensurability I reflect these periods of time to more accessible and readily apparent themes of the two in landscapes and bodily structures; two subjects which have a long standing history in art practice but are now finding context within a neoformalist paradigm.

My work + time

My work's relationship to time is maintained indirectly, through my engagement with technology. Because I take current technologies as both medium and subject, my work is in constant negotiation with the present moment, the past events that led to it, and the potentialities of forces pushing forward into the future.
When I speak of technology, I speak in part of a nexus of threads converging in the present moment to produce the current condition of human being. Those threads stretch forward and backward and sideways and loop around in the interpenetrating subjectivities that together make up our social and cultural reality. Technology is, in a sense, the trace of those threads. What we use today is the result of past desires, and a preamble to those of the future.
It is in this sense that I see the relationship of my work to time - as a necessary condition of my engagement with technology.

Time relationship

I think time is connected to my art practice because I've been referencing past traditions in Mexican heritage. I've researched how they have evolved and managed to be passed down through history. The hybrids they've created are an obvious reflection of the past they come from. I believe that every art practice hints at a sliver of time that the artist is representing or being influenced by. Time is relevant to what we make.

Time, mistress of all

I think that all art deals with time in one way or another, as artists try to capture a moment or impart a feeling felt during a certain time.  Our biological life cycles make us all subject to time.

My own art deals with time in a specific way as I have been filming older women and men (60+ years old) talking about time, aging, and beauty, as part of my art practice. I have also been researching the phenomenon of looping (real and perceived). By looping I mean the fact that our brains create neural pathways reinforcing negative thoughts, which causes us to repeat negative behaviors and triggers us to have the same arguments. These loops can doom us to remain prisoners of negativity unless we make conscious efforts to stop the cycle. 

Control nature

Artificially controlled nature

Landscapes

Hindsight is 20/20

http://gardenista.com/posts/saving-the-worlds-oldest-trees

Found this, even though it's really awesome and great to be rebuilding, my question is; should we really have to? It could all be prevented if we had not cut down the trees in the first place. Hindsight is 20/20. Now these will exist where WE, HUMANS, want them. Not where they were naturally supposed to be.

David Shrigley

david shrigley - uk sketch + performance artist has a really interesting piece found here:

River For Sale

Seismographic Sketches

Seismographic Sketches of Grove Park Roads from a Dynamic Epicenter

For the Grove Park classification project, I chose to classify roads in Grove Park through an experiment in mapping. I made paintings that were etched into while still wet. The etched lines are made by scratching into the surface of the painted matte board while riding as passenger in a truck with my eyes closed in the dark. I let my hand, holding a tool with a pointed end act like a seismometer to record the variations in the surface of the road by feel, rather than vision. Each time the vehicle turned I began a new painting, so that each painting records a road. Several paintings also record the process of turning around at impasses, or backing up along roads already traveled. Each painting was started at a point in the center of the matte board.



The project allowed me to re-classify my knowledge of roads, and specifically the roads inthe park. Common ways of knowing roads are through maps and signs of various kinds, or through descriptions and directions (language, symbols, representational, scaled, drawings) but over the course of several trips to Grove Park, an alternative method of knowing the paths traversing the park became the most exciting. Finding myself in the area with a useless map and no signs became the most exciting part of my experiences there. I began to feel a certain freedom and sense of adventure in traveling blindly along, navigating the tree trunks, holes, small ponds, sand pits, and other obstacles. Driving there created my awareness of the place. Directions, navigation, and location became irrelevant--my experience of the place became about how it feels to travel over those particular unkempt surfaces in an 87 Toyota pickup.

The project classifies my experience of Grove Park in terms of the way I got to know it, through magnitude and transmission of vibration into line rather than through spatial representations or delineation through words. While in words I would classify the experience as regressive, phenomenological, non-linguistic, raw, tactile, the paintings refute the neccessity for words and classify in an alternative way, according to the fluxuations of moving over surfaces.

Alison's Grove Park Project Documentation

Alison's Grove Park Project