Time Practices:
Through a 12th-Floor Window- Fortum Quick, intvl.36'
2020 12 x 18 cm each
Inkjet printer pigment and acrylic medium
During some days in November 2019, I have no clocks in the surroundings.
Living by circadian rhythms and the changes of daylight, my daily life was not tabled according to numbers, but to every decision I made: waking up, brushing teeth, eating, reading, observing, and writing. A day consisted of several events and the intervals in between. The intervals seemed to determine the occurrence of the events and became the guideline of my disoriented sense of time.
I took a piece of A4 paper, fill it up with drawings, and mark down the time that I spent. After that, I set up a digital camera attached with a timer to take photographs at each interval. The camera was pointed out from the window, capturing the movements: the daylight, the direction of smoke that came out of a factory, the passersby and the driving vehicles. During those days, I still lived without clock time. The camera became the cuckoo clock as the shutter shut. With its inbuilt clock and timer, it was likely alive, living on its timeline.
The new time system is made through drawings, which is, for me, the most intuitive way to perform a single continual action. Through the redefined system, the day is not divided into the standard unit of time, but by a bodily act. And through that, the camera turns into the agent for time informing and the witness of multiple events. Each photograph contains several time marks: my reaction time to the paper, movements outside of windows, digital timestamps with the clock time that I didn’t follow. I read those time marks as different temporalities, and the photographs are the vessels of those overlapped temporalities. Time Practices: Through a 12th-Floor Window is a dialogue on the possibility of parallel temporality and simultaneity.
Through a 12th-Floor Window- Fortum Quick, intvl.36'
2020 12 x 18 cm each
Inkjet printer pigment and acrylic medium
During some days in November 2019, I have no clocks in the surroundings.
Living by circadian rhythms and the changes of daylight, my daily life was not tabled according to numbers, but to every decision I made: waking up, brushing teeth, eating, reading, observing, and writing. A day consisted of several events and the intervals in between. The intervals seemed to determine the occurrence of the events and became the guideline of my disoriented sense of time.
I took a piece of A4 paper, fill it up with drawings, and mark down the time that I spent. After that, I set up a digital camera attached with a timer to take photographs at each interval. The camera was pointed out from the window, capturing the movements: the daylight, the direction of smoke that came out of a factory, the passersby and the driving vehicles. During those days, I still lived without clock time. The camera became the cuckoo clock as the shutter shut. With its inbuilt clock and timer, it was likely alive, living on its timeline.
The new time system is made through drawings, which is, for me, the most intuitive way to perform a single continual action. Through the redefined system, the day is not divided into the standard unit of time, but by a bodily act. And through that, the camera turns into the agent for time informing and the witness of multiple events. Each photograph contains several time marks: my reaction time to the paper, movements outside of windows, digital timestamps with the clock time that I didn’t follow. I read those time marks as different temporalities, and the photographs are the vessels of those overlapped temporalities. Time Practices: Through a 12th-Floor Window is a dialogue on the possibility of parallel temporality and simultaneity.
