NEW YORK, NY.- "We can not measure things that don't exist, and things past and future don't exist." But how do we measure present time since it has no extension? It is measured while it passes, but when it has passed it is not measured; for then there is nothing that could be measured. But whence, and how, and whither does it pass while it is being measured? Whence, but from the future? Which way, save through the present? Whither, but into the past? Therefore, from what is not yet, through what has no length, it passes into what is now no longer. But what do we measure, unless it is a time of some length? For we cannot speak of single, and double, and triple, and equal, and all the other ways in which we speak of time, except in terms of the length of the periods of time. But in what "length," then, do we measure passing time? Is it in the future, from which it passes over? But what does not yet exist cannot be measured. Or, is it in the present, through which it passes? But what has no length we cannot measure. Or is it in the past into which it passes? But what is no longer we cannot measure.” (Saint Augustine, Confessions, Book XI, Chapter XXI).
With paint, ink or graphite on paper or linen, the artists in On Time echo Augustine’s questions by making time visible. Through repetitive gestures, overlaid signs and diminutive marks, they force the viewer to slow down to a full stop. Time—on paper or canvas—is rendered visible and measurable. A language emerges made of insignificant signs, a parenthesis of silence to observe and absorb.
Fragmentation, obliteration, and reconstruction of information characterize Stefana McClure’s work. Primarily working with the manipulation of text, she translates, transposes and decodes the synesthetic structure connecting text and image, unveiling a new reality. In Films on Paper, her most known body of work, she copies the text from a frame of a subtitled film onto an individual sheet of tracing paper. Frame by frame, sheet by sheet, she traces the translation of the entire film. Then, she retraces the language from each individual sheet of tracing paper onto a single piece of transfer paper. The tracing paper sheets align over the transfer paper so that the subtitles fall where they would on the screen. Each successive subtitle overlays those that came before. Each sheet of tracing paper removes a bit of the transfer material in the shape of language — adding information by subtracting matter. Two blurred lines float at the bottom of a monochromatic screen. The entire dialogues are there, impossible to access, a still and silent celebration of the moving image.
Stephen Talasnik explores the near-seamless connection between drawing, sculpture, ephemeral site-specific work, stage sets, architecture, and engineering. Intrigued by the infrastructure of the metropolis, an ongoing obsession triggered by his admiration for the architectural works of Piranesi, Hugh Ferriss, and Antonio Sant’Elia, as well as the botanical photographs of Karl Blossfeldt, Henry Fox Talbot, and Anna Atkins, Talasnik creates otherworldly images that suggest a moment in time without providing absolute coordinates. He uses abandoned notations to build an image for the present—each drawing encapsulating time travel without representation. Embedded “ghost” images of the past serve as a palimpsest from which more immediate visual forms emerge.
Fernanda Fragateiro’s works are characterized by a keen interest in re-thinking and probing modernist practices. She frequently employs the method of repurposing already-existing and symbolically layered material, such as vintage books and magazines, in order to fashion complex yet delicate work that is criss-crossed by an intricate web of inner references to art theory and architectural history. Through her research-based method and revision of 20th century avant-garde practices in art, design, and architecture, Fragateiro attempts to understand spatiality from a new perspective. “Ideas are materials. Ideas are like bricks. That’s what I think when I’m using other people’s ideas. I build a new thing with them.“
Antonietta Grassi is interested in the intersections of textile, technology, and modernist abstraction through layered geometries and meticulously rendered, threadlike lines. Her intricate works evoke woven surfaces that reference early computing, analog machines, and the often-overlooked contributions of women to technological innovation, while engaging the formal history of modernist abstraction. “My paintings attempt to reconnect fragments of encoded memories of objects, like blueprints for histories that have been filed away, yet delicately retrieved through the physical language of paint. (…) The lines in my work can reference the warp and weft of fabrics or the data embedded in a barcode; the shapes are based on memories of prosaic objects: filing cabinets, sewing patterns, old computers, and typewriters. (…) My mother, who was a garment worker, sewed most of our clothes, a process that started with selecting fabrics and laying out patterns. My home was also filled with the plans and blueprints that belonged to my father, who was a carpenter and house builder, as were many of his fellow Italian immigrants. This diagrammatic way of looking at an object is ingrained in my memory.”
Anne Lindberg’s drawings and thread installations explore the luminous possibilities of hue. Intermittent bold bands of contrasting color imply layered space while referencing changes in light that occur with time of day, viewpoint, and atmosphere. “While my work is abstract, embedded within its formal and material languages are concerns of time, sequence, and light, and a drive to speak about what is private, vulnerable, fragile, and perceptive of the human condition. I create work that challenges definitions of abstraction by working in delicate materials with luminous color, repetition, and an ethereal quality of light. I aim to create visual and spatial experiences that transcend language, slow time, and tap into something core within us, with the belief that a kind of alchemy can exist in everyday life. Color sits at the forefront of my work, where it has the power to elicit visceral responses to the profound and disquieting present in which we all live.”
Heryun Kim explores nature, humanity, and historical identity. Through her extensive studies of Korean prehistory and the visual simplicity of Korean script, Kim reimagines traditional Korean art and ancient culture through the invention of a new abstract language, that bridges ancient and modern. Her paintings are largely influenced by her sensorial experience and an attempt to give physical form to a spoken landscape. A writing purified of sense, an automatic sign that gives voice to silence — Kim’s abstract writing is not linked to knowledge but to being.
Nobuhira Narumi’s paintings force the viewer into a different temporality by adopting the perspective of a dog observing human life and environments. Working in oil on linen or canvas, he creates detailed works that focus on specific objects or scenes related to this unique viewpoint. Pixelated surfaces and geometric shapes, created by light refracted through the dog’s gaze, result in subtle, often abstract images with vibrant surfaces.
