alive

There are spaces that have the power to move us deeply. The human body can be thought of as a space as well. 

These spaces require no thought or knowledge to enjoy them. You simply have to be in them and you feel, you know they are special. 

The idea that one person could connect with an entire room is almost an unbelievable feat. Their light has the power to make everything else disappear (Jesus, it sounds cheesy as fuck when you write certain things down). They get to shine and you get to let go (Still going for it). And whether it’s a single moment or entire performance, you are present with that performer and the people around you (Committed). Everyone is on the same page (Truth).

It seems like these artists give away so much of themselves, but in reality, I think they’re just being. If we considered the sheer scale and pressure of performing night after night, it wouldn’t seem possible. How could a single person have that much energy, or handle that much responsibility? Yet, they are visible proof that when you are aligned in your life, you can do the seemingly impossible and make it look natural. 

The live show has only become more significant in the digital age. The clear beginning and end of a live performance forces you to focus on the moment. It parallels the idea that death is what gives your life immediacy. When there’s an end, you better pay attention to what you’re doing because you’re only getting one shot. And when you’re listening to music on Spotify, there’s not need to pay attention because you have the luxury of going back to it whenever you want. And the truth is that the best live recordings are of no comparison. After all, a beautiful picture of a sunset does not come close the experience of being there and seeing it for yourself. 

This project was a meditation. Each line was penned in a single breath. Each person in the audience is just like me. Artists have that ability to bring different kinds of people together in very important ways. Collectively we share an experience and when an artist is holding everyone in the room, there is a oneness to it all. I had to concentrate on making each line and the breath was the tool I used to stay focused. Each line mattered because if you make a mistake on a white piece of paper, there’s no eraser button. I’ve been 8 hours into a print and let my mind wonder. That’s when you draw the line passed the circle on the stage and have to start over. 

These screen prints were created from seating charts pulled from a venue’s official website. They were stripped of all numbers and type, and reorganized onto one page. For example, every seat in the original Carnegie Hall map had a number inside of it, which I manually deleted even though it would have been easy to blanket delete all of the text and numbers with a few clicks. I wanted to consider each seat, each person—just like I knew that I would be revisiting each person when adding the pen lines later in the process. In the case of Hallgrimskirkja, I recreated it to the best of my ability from images and memory.

A first world problem of mine has been deciding what seats could I afford. At most events, I ended up in the back, but I realize that my initial self consciousness about being in the supposed “nosebleeds” is so foolish. Who fucking cares? Just be happy you’re in the building. The fact that I’m even worried about where I’m sitting makes me question why I’m there in the first place. Are you there so you have something to talk (or brag?) about the next day? Or are you there to give yourself to the experience?

By removing all of the the seat numbers and the text, these concert halls start to lose their labels: “second tier”, “fourth ring”, “balcony”. I’m sure the experience of sitting close to the stage is different from being all the way in the back, but every seat is different. Why stress about your location, your place in the room? In Carnegie Hall, when you sit in the highest tier, you can hear the ambient sounds from NYC echo into the venue like a whisper from John Cage. And no matter where you’re sitting, some of my favorite performers have that rare quality to make you feel like the only person there—like you’re hearing something that no one else is. It’s that personal. 

A few of these prints are based on places and performances I dream about. They are imaginary, but almost real.