Room for A Painting

Light is both a particle and a wave - did you know that? Of course you did. You learned it in school. But back then your teacher did not have the means to explain any of this. This was how things were and that’s it. Nowadays we have quantum physics. Everybody talks about it, but no one understands it. What I like most about quantum physics you ask? Clearly it would have to be superposition. Superposition is essentially the ability to be in multiple states at the same time - that is, until being measured.

You see, when I arrived here I didn’t know if I was coming or going. Almost as if I was in an amorphous emotional shape. Some days I felt quite figurative, others more like an abstract composition and at times I actually felt more like a sound - and who was going to measure me? Certainly not the painter. He, upon finding the room in a different state than anticipated had become obsessed with it. ‘The electric cables were so great, useless like paintings…’ he said.

I did not take it personally.

And so the painter decided to resurrect what he considered long lost qualities. In a precarious yet bold refusal of common sense he furnished the room with his brush strokes. He hoped to capture layers of space and time with pink and beige, the only shades they usually came in. Upon completion, he closely inspected his work and was forced to realize that his strokes were legible from exactly three angles, and in vain from all others. If he was to be frank with himself his actions were anything but clear: was he covering or unveiling something? He had lost himself - and by extension me - between layers of now and then. Was he perhaps resorting to the old philosophical trick of playing being against seeming?

And what about my role you ask? Well honestly, I felt as if I was watching myself from behind, going further and further away. After all, had not the room become the painting already?

Laura Amann, 2020