Everything is wrong. The squares will match the colors of representative samples of natural objects. Annoying ones. She is using the expression in the wrong sense. She directs it towards herself. She is a mediocre painter of sterile, domestic still lives. Everything could be painted. Reflect light. Anything could be put in a frame. Human skin. Pretending to be surprised. Born with the sun in Cancer, she is used to the lunar deities who keep her up at night, stipulating answers. Everyone is busy, she is busy too. He told her his life story of literally walking to Europe through deserts and her eyes lost their focus and rolled away, inwards. Turning, it’s easier. It’s harder. It could be worse. Enthusiastic smiles, a zigzag of furrows. It could be an interesting object for a psychiatric study.
Everyone is scared of the boss and what he will say on Friday. On Fridays he comes to look at the magazine they have tried to issue for months now. They have waited for the authors to send their texts; correcting texts; sending texts back and forth; waiting for approval to making changes. A chain of fools. There are always other things coming in between, people ask for the way, someone looks for a book. Or they went to check on her, contrast her with a visible spectrum of emotional variations. Call her green, but actually they disrupt her work flow. Anyways, she is ridden by a constant bad conscience, longing for getting older because she heard it might go away with age.
A young Joni Mitchell in a cute pink dress, interviewed in some late-night show in the 60’s. Joni was shy and almost intimidated by the attention from the host and the audience in the studio, nevertheless she made a brilliant performance. There must have been a cut somewhere because her appearance is so different now, she is sick of attention, and she only answers questions she finds accurate or interesting enough, articulating her boredom. Smoking so much! She unconsciously adopts to attitudes. Attidudes? A mode of repetition. There is no necessary connection between good art and change. And who needs action when you got words.
Why is he so comfortable? Sad and sorry, but not ashamed. Uncomfortably comfortable, deriving from a patriarchal monogamy invented to facilitate patrilineal descent and inheritance. Her body is bogus. His just is. They live together in a comforting nutshell. Giving up everything, doing nothing.
Künstlerische Bachelor-Arbeit, 2016
Astrid Nylander (Schweden)
Bachelor of Fine Arts
an der HFBK
Prof. Andreas Slominski, Prof. Dr. Hanne Loreck