The Mechanics of Elaboration

The Mechanics of Elaboration, 2022. On-site installation (fabric, anti-drain drip system, hydraulic pump, water-based ink, videomapping, and servomotors with Arduino). 3.30 m x 2.35 m.

A series of three simultaneous events make up this machine. The rhythmic and cyclical movement of the servomotors, the projection of fragments of intimate letters, and the random blot of ink. In this machine, I reflect on the act of writing as a means to overcome events and give meaning to past experiences. In the sequence of its movements, it exposes the irresolvable desire between exposing and erasing, forgetting and remembering, overcoming but not eliminating.

Curatorial Text

After a sequence of events that marked a turning point in my life, I decided to revisit a sort of personal archive that I had been creating since childhood.

Since I was a child, I found myself exposed to situations beyond my control, and my way of processing these experiences was to document them in a diary or in letters. Both the diary and the letters were always something intimate and personal. In them, I recount everyday more superficial situations, as well as painful events. The temporal coincidence between the conceptualization of this project and the unfolding of my private life made me analyze my behaviors more closely. Almost compulsively, I tend to return to this personal archive in times of distress, either to review it or to create a new entry. When assessing this tendency, I realized that the processes of recording and rereading happen almost unconsciously. I find that rereading is a confrontation with the past; it is also a painful encounter with latent personal conflicts. However, I understand that there is an antagonistic drive in this self-imposed need for reexposure. On one hand, I feel that examining this record of my personal history is reassuring; it confirms to me that I have already lived through painful experiences and provides me with perspective on them

On the other hand, it represents a mental recreation of a past with unsolvable conflicts. In summary, this writing and rereading function as an almost mechanical act of healing and self-flagellation. It's a desire to forget and a need to remember, a will to overcome the past but a constant yearning to relive it.

These conflicting impulses intersect with another point of tension: the conflict between the public and the private. Writing turns the idea into an object, and as such, it ceases to be a mental construct. What is written is something that exists in the tangible world, and therefore, one no longer has the same authority over who can access it. From a specific perspective, the willingness to exhibit these writings, which I consider highly personal, also conflicts me. However, I also feel that there is an unconscious impulse to display them publicly. Perhaps, this is another need to materialize and relinquish absolute control over the construction I made of my identity and personal history.

The artwork is a large machine that represents the act of writing. The movement of the motors alludes to the impulse and the act of recording events. It is a continuous and cyclical action. Writing was the only way I found to deal with and overcome the situations I experienced. It was and still is the means to do so. I selectively present some of the fragments that make up the archive and are relevant to me.

There's an irresolvable desire between trying to let go of these archives and returning to them. Unable to discard them but unable to read them. The ink is, in some way, the passing of time that changes things, that distances us from the events. I lose control of its movement, and over the course of the exhibition, it changes shape. It changes shape, just as the way we look at and make sense of things changes. From my current maturity, I review these archives and see the events with a different perspective, a more comprehensive and broader perspective.

It is a great machine that elaborates meanings, that elaborates my experiences, my past. It is a machine that tries to process what happens to me, tries to give it meaning and externalize it.

After two days of exhibition, the fabric is covered in black ink. Therefore, it is an ephemeral work that transforms and mutates over time. The fabric bears the record of its processes. Both concept and materiality reflect the ontological question of the passage of time. The ink changes the shape of the work, just as it changes the way we look at and make sense of our past experiences.

Pictures taken by Nicole Fiser. ©Luisa Leborgne