Installations, performance, video & sound art, literary writing. Larisa Crunțeanu she explores several artistic forms depending on the theme that obsesses her. Larisa will tell how she chooses the right medium and what happens behind the scenes of the artistic process during the discussion at the Glitch Library, which takes place pit’s September 19, at 6:00 p.m. Her presentation is called “Page intentionally left blank” and places are limited, so we encourage you to sign up using the form here.
“I think my working method is closer to the scientific method, where you start with a question, then there is a phase of research or accumulation of many materials, then a hypothesis that could answer the initial question. But unlike a laboratory scientifically, the experiment phase, data analysis and conclusions are carried out in public and for very long periods, beyond the actual exposure period”, says Larisa.
In anticipation of her presentation, which inaugurates the Artist Talk series at the Glitch Library, we talk with Larisa about reality and fiction, truth and sincerity, the ivory tower and the social context of the artistic process.
How to choose the most suitable artistic medium
I work, indeed, with many mediums, and this is a consequence of both temperamental characteristics and a rather convoluted educational and professional training, which made me float between several worlds. At first, I was under the impression that these were rational choices – as you say, what medium does the message serve? But lately, I have had the intuition that each medium itself carries a message or brings a specific knowledge or experience that modifies or adds new layers of understanding to a possible pre-existing message at the beginning of a project. Although that’s not very precise either, because I rarely start a work or project with a clearly formulated message.
I think my working method is closer to the scientific method, where you start with a question, then there is a phase of research or accumulation of a lot of material, then a hypothesis that might answer the initial question. But unlike a scientific laboratory, the experiment phase, data analysis and conclusions are carried out in public and for very long periods, beyond the actual exposure period. The works or exhibitions are not, therefore, the final communication of some conclusions, but rather the public exposure of some hypotheses with which I then continue to experiment, and which can become, by their public nature, hypotheses or new questions for others as well. But that’s not very precise either, because it often happened to me that ideas or experiments with certain materials abandoned during a project reappear later, in a different context, maybe also because I always have several works and projects on the table that waiting for the right time/form/context.
I work all the time, even when it doesn’t seem like I’m working, I’m mindful of it, and I value intuition, accidents, confusions, and just plain chances that reality and others throw my way. In addition, I am not the most organized person, which means that my work is also constantly infiltrated by new and new ideas and experiments, which also includes playing with different mediums.
Behind objects and myths
I believe that my works have a strong discursive component, which makes them act as dialogically engaged agents. Even when I don’t use words in works per se, which is rare, the impulse is to answer a question already asked by other situations, artists or authors, contemporary or not, or even previous works, as I explain above.
Beyond this aspect, which preoccupied me a lot when I was studying for my PhD, there remains the question of direct collaboration with other cultural workers, which was and remains a preferred way for me to make art and in general to think new thoughts. By explaining myself to someone else, I am explaining myself to the same extent. And by leaving some of what I do to someone else, I open up the possibility that that explanation, always half-understood, can create a space of productive confusion. But in addition to this naive enthusiasm, there are also practical considerations. I know a little of many environments and ways of doing things, or this vast superficiality sometimes needs to be anchored by the expertise of people with more specialized approaches.
The cultural and social context
I don’t think there is art outside of a social and cultural context. Even when we talk about artifacts recovered after hundreds or even thousands of years, they are the measure of an individual mastery put at the service of a collective imaginary that survives and can be, if not reconstructed, at least invoked through them. But this does not mean that the works are direct testimonies of specific events or people.
Returning to my practice, even when I work in a close to documentary mode, I try to distance myself from the role of chronicler of my times. I think it’s a bit dangerous to try to do investigative journalism through art, I’m afraid of equating art with truth. I am interested in authenticity and sincerity, but I do not want to say or exhibit works with absolute truth value or claims of objectivity.
„Protocols of Singularity”
“Protocols of the Singularity” is my doctoral thesis at UNArte, supervised by Prof. Dr. Anca Oroveanu, then edited and brought to a somewhat more digestible form for a non-academic audience, with the invaluable help of Petrică Mogoș (editor), Miruna Fulgeanu (translator), Natasha Klimenko (proofreading), Rose van Zijl (designer) and Laura Naum (who, together with Petrică Mogoș, runs Disposit Books).
As I mentioned earlier, a main stake in this research was to dismantle the myth of the artist as an individual genius, who creates in the ivory tower, away from society and peers. I don’t know to what extent I succeeded in that, but I’m grateful for the experience anyway. As a PhD in visual arts, my own practice had to be part of the research. So, in analyzing the individualization of different possible artistic positions on the contemporary art scene, I had the opportunity to dissect a good part of my own artistic practice, interests and collaborative processes that I have gone through over time. A concise answer would be, then, that this volume is both a pretext for literary and philosophical speculation and an autobiographical exercise in recovering and contextualizing an artistic practice of about a decade.
Editing process
I came to Rose van Zijl through a referral, neither I nor Dispisov knew her, and we were very impressed from the start by her portfolio and attitude towards the project. He had a lot of patience and curiosity with me in discussions where I tried to explain different aspects of my research or how I imagined the book should look in the end. But he also knew extremely well how to filter the essentials from the given information. I remember e-mails in which I wrote in bullet points (many!) all kinds of observations and questions, some of which she answered very precisely and generously and others she completely ignored.
I only realized later that her strategy made sense; language is limited when trying to explain something visually that will only come together when all the pieces are assembled. I’m grateful to her for ignoring some of my suggestions and making some creative decisions, resulting in a book that I think I can live with for a long time. As much as I’m fascinated by other people’s books and archives, I find it much harder to see my own dynamic work processes that I was talking about at the beginning congealing into fixed forms that I can no longer interfere with. At least it turned out a nice and friendly book as a sensory experience (and maybe as a read). It’s not a small thing.
Source: www.iqads.ro
