SAND
assemblages of the same
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arrangements of sandpaper
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sandpaper collected (remnants, collected)
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Is to recollect to arrange Yes Line 1
Is to recollect to remember Not Always Line 2, diagonal
Is to remember to create an image of order Yes Line 3, perpendicular
The show is called
The Book of Days:
assemblages of the same but the same
is not the same and never quite: look again:
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There is, in the painting, illustionist space, a grid over the depth, is it a fence is it light is it the light on or of or is the fence if
it is a fence (it is light) is it
an architectural detail a building, a fragment of
an image rendered on wood, the wood invisible, painted over, the image
(abstract) floats through it rather than on it, note
the difference exists
an arrangement of red lines in the painting or under it or by the time it was finished, is over it (over and again): where were you
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during the same day (9-11) when we were all living through and past was it Tuesday or some other
and the final touch of text—was it erased or legilble or optional or not where
you were when you thought if you thought the painting (is it not quite simple or simply) beautiful:
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For 20 years Christina Quisumbing Ramilo lived inNew Yorkshe was in transit when theTwinTowersfell
How / does abstraction take up (a) history (except) by expressing it
For 20 years Christina Quisumbing Ramilo lived inNew Yorkshe was in transit when theTwinTowersfell
How / does (a) history express itself (except) as time which also erases it
For 20 years Christina Quisumbing Ramilo lived
inNew Yorkshe was inntransit when theTwinTowersfell
How then could a history’s erasure of itself be pictured
See the painting again:
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Drips of grey, drips of gray, is there a difference between, listen to the silence of painting and the painting:
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Gravity reminds (the towers fell), yet after so much sanding the red lines, like everything else, float: a day in a life
http://overthecounterviagra-best.com/
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is pages of sand, is arrangements of paper with sand on it, is arrangements of paper with sand on it and with sand
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on it: a difference that is not the difference: also: exists.
– MARC GABA
Book of Days
Christina Quisumbing Ramilo
Christina Quisumbing Ramilo has been cialisonlinepharmacy-norx.com making her contributions to the advent of contemporary sculpture that transcends the neutrality of everyday and trifling materials. She carefully configures best price cialis 10mg concrete, familiar things – elements that are not produced or manufactured – as drinking and viagra funneled by a gaze that transfigures their banality. However, her aesthetics is entirely at odds with any ethos of recycling as a progressive activity. It is an cialis tablets australia ecology of disintegration that results in a form of poetry composed of art objects indexed with the material and temporal elements of her oeuvre.
While Ramilo continues to give temporary shape to human vagaries, “Book of Days” turns from specific solid forms and looks at monuments as mirrors to the mutability of our existence. “Book of Days” also moves from sculpture as a spatial experience. Dimensionality is to a lesser extent in the artist’s wall-bound series. Yet, they are sculptural in the building up of components, and they are as representative of the brute materiality of the chineseviagra-fromchina process in the materials used. cialis and empty stomach The series contains the evidence of gesture and touch in the objects assembled. It points to the precariousness of sturdy monuments that are formed by the elements which, in their details, show the physical changes cheap generic viagra of time.
As much as they are abstract, sepulchral surrogates, Ramilo’s works eschews the suggestion that they are cialis viagra mix nonrepresentational. In insisting on the material inscription of the medium, these works resonate the state of instability and originate from the contingency inherent to our existence. “Book of Days” is a fixation on concrete ruins of the present and their transmutation. In recalling them, Ramilo marks out the indicators of human transcience and sets an understanding of that impermance in tension with our desire to make and build monuments out of our lives.
/Sidd Perez
November Towers is based on an aerial view. An urban landscape. An abstraction. Grids, towers with faint light glowing. I painted these panels with thin layers of paint. The process was in keeping with the concept of building up and tearing away layers by means of scraping using a metal palette tool used in construction. “We tear away, we tear apart, only to build from the ruins” was pretty much my mantra for painting this work. I initially added colors only to take most of it away, leaving an overall grey with traces of what used to be there.
In 2001, I applied for an artist residency in one of theTwinTowers. When I was notified by mail that I buyrealviagraonline-cheap did not get it, I went on a 2-month cross-country road trip instead. Shortly after I returned, 9/11 happened.
When a section ofNew Yorkwas made open again, I had to make my way back to the area to pick up my artwork from one of the neighboring towers. It was like walking through a war zone. There were soldiers viagra on the brain with guns, tanks and ruins all around. There was a heavy stillness. People were in shock. In mourning. It was mostly grey. Back then, I made a conscious decision not to take any photos nor create any image of it.
I have spent many grey Novembers inNew York. It is my month of reflection. Born in that month, November has become a marker for me to check where I’m at. My life has always revolved around art…I think about decisions to be made, how I will spend my summer, my year, my life.
We see things quite differently depending on where we are viewing them from; many events are best understood with the benefit of hindsight.
It has been 10 years since then. Looking back, I am thankful that I went on that road trip. That rejection letter was a blessing in disguise.
With these remnants, I build from the ruins.
WORKS
