Mei-Mei Berssenbrugge - Permanent Home
If you don’t know much about her work, here is a good place to start:
I’ve still to get I Love Artists, which came out in 2006, but in the meanwhile, here are the final sections of “Permanent Home” from NEST, to take us into the week.
The water tank sits on a frame of used wood, like a packing crate.
I look through it to an extinct volcano.
The panorama is true figuratively, as space, and literally in a glass wall where clouds appear like flowers, and the back-lit silhouette of a horse passes by.
A file of evergreens secures the cliff amid debris from a crew building, as at the edge of a sea.
Oranges, dumplings, boiled eggs take on the opaque energy of a stranger.
Knowledge as lintel, bond-beam (model signs) holds the world at a distance.
A master-image, like bone, condenses from an indistinct point-to-point feeling of self with which construction began.
My house returns from outside, as if my spirit had been blocking my path, when I wasn't going anywhere in particular.
Materials and freedom combine, so materials aren’t subjective.
The material of space is like having a skeleton to gain a vantage point on seamless distance, as in a composition.
It’s a style of accumulating materials that does not become a solid thing, anymore.
Accommodating a view by being able to be seen through is perceptual, not abstract, like space painted white.
Give a house the form of an event.
Relate it to something there, a form of compassion.
Your point of view is: it’s solid already, so there’s warmth.
In this primitive situation, pure form translates that former empire of space as wilderness.
Chinese space breaks free from the view in front of me, while my house continues rotating on earth.