It is often misunderstood how difficult it is to evaluate one’s own work in numerical terms. The problem lies not in the choosing of one evaluative system but in the erratic and disorienting oscillation between antinomies that is part and parcel of running a studio.
Recently one of my sculptures was damaged. This is a fact that was factually relayed to me and which I then dealt with as if there were straightforward options at my disposal: What can I recuperate? What effects are there going forward? The question most difficult to ask is how can a work survive?
There is a moment when a work of art reaches completion. This is an inextricable narrative in how we talk about art. And yet the irretrievable loss that coincides with such a vision of art’s existence in the world is parentless. Who takes responsibility for it?
When making a sculpture I require a space of freedom. When selling that sculpture I enter a space of numbers. When that sculpture is damaged I am now asked to recreate that output which comes from the space of freedom but to do it from a pragmatic space. To fix my broken sculpture is to actively engage in my own disenchantment.