THE RECORD is a physical manifestation of the past. It is made, collected, archived, and stored as a small pocket of passed time. Records of traces, records of conversations, and even records of banal incidents afford permanence to an otherwise abstract moment. Once amassed, THE RECORD also becomes an archive, a library ripe for picking.
Some records are certainly more important than others; in some instances, the act of recording is more consequential than the record itself. When the moment of recording becomes the point of interest, record becomes the interface in which the past and present interact and in which abstract action becomes
concrete form. This oscillation between abstract and the resulting physical materialization, and between the reality of the recorded and its translation, lies at the core of my investigation.
THE RECORD has no definite construction: it is malleable to the object it is recording and can exist in infinite iterations. My degree project takes advantage of this flexibility to study four different avenues of the word—Record as the Poetic, Record as Animation, Record as Gesture, and Record as Record(ed)—uninhibited by any particular form. Below are pictures of the work as it was presented to a panel of critics and peers.
THE RECORD (studied as both a noun and verb) lives as a collection of collections, and thereby can be limitlessly expanded and reiterated. The extensive variety of form and medium in my degree project stem naturally from
a personal fascination with texture. Even more telling than the resulting physical memorabilia was the process of making; working on this degree project revealed an intense inclination towards generating and reassembly.
The resulting records fluctuate between being explicitly telling and wholly abstract.