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Lizzie Boon | Jennifer Justice

Lizzie Boon on reading


Draft publication layout: Sofia Lo Bianco and Fayen d’Evie, Care is a Cognate to Grief, 2020/2, published by 3-ply.
Printed with Trent Walter

This vitrine is not a container or a boundary,
instead, pages positioned for tactile observation.
Engraved, carved, impressed, inscribed,
each an invitation for skin to feel material sensation.

Of paper, wood, brass, and perspex.

There is no single system to how the body should read,
it may configure itself at whichever point it is drawn.
Perhaps first landing at an edge, a face, a corner,
then shifting across or around its surface.

‘Audiences and spectators are readers,
and in parallel,
authors and co-authors
of interpretive ideas and tangential remarks,
introducing fragments of thought from beyond the animated museum.’

The curious body of the reader
may re-orientate
to pick up, circle, crouch, step away.
Each time re-engaging
to read a letter, a texture, a phrase,
adjusting attention to the subtleties of materiality.

Surfaces may raise or depress,
be smooth or rough.
The material may drag,
run fluid,
or be jagged under touch.

‘As Erica Fretwell cautions,
in the world of touch,
to read is to erase,
erasure as an act of inscription,
that wears away at fragile dots,
while depositing oils and skin cells.
To read by touch is a form of
autobiographical annotation.
Sensing peripheries,
self-sensing peripheries. [1]

[1]   Footnote here Erica Fretwell, ‘Stillness is a move: Helen Keller and the kinaesthetics of autobiography’ (Fretwell, 2013).’

In the body’s interpretation
it may notice sensations transfer,
quiet or loud.
Traces of words arriving in the reader.
Traces of the contributing reader, now co-author,
leaving particles, unsettling dust, wearing away surfaces,

Jennifer Justice on describing an artwork




Start from the knowledge that nobody owns your way of experiencing a work of art but you. Just like nobody owns the idea of anything – this includes museums, exhibitions, or land or stars and sea. Nobody does your way of being in the world better than you do. Also, there are no official rules here, only gentle guidance as desired. What is the martial art where practitioners are taught to use their opponent’s force to propel their own counter maneuvers? I imagine there is also a way that dancers serendipitously use each others’ motions to drive a performance. Think of ekphrasis as a collaborative, generative practice in conversation with others, a personal monologue in concert. There is absolutely no need to center visual information if describing how something looks is not your cup of tea.

For those who prefer more structured or practical encouragement, you might set your own constraints: write only two word responses to the art, or write a drum solo. Talk about what the work of art reminds you of or how it makes you feel. Describe its textures or temperature. What is its relationship to space and place? Does it give off a vibe? Can you walk around it in your mind, or does it resist interpretation?

Read poetry or listen to music every day. Buy some art from your favorite local artist. Notice the ways in which art history lionizes some artists and excludes others and actively resist bias.

You don’t even have to like something to respond to it – at times I have even found it preferable to really hate a work of art because it reveals so much about your relationship to the object or performance in the moment. Our passions add resonance to who we are in the world. Now all this is starting to sound a bit woo woo- my apologies. Succinctly put, describe art anyway you want, using any form you want: compose an opera for Coco Fusco, bake a cake as homage to Ellen Gallagher, freestyle to Ruth Asawa, write Moyra Davey’s grocery list, compose a rhyming couplet for Emily Jacir, choreograph a dressage routine to Meshes of the Afternoon, draft a love letter to Kaylene Whiskey.

Okay, I lied – there is one rule. You must devote some time and thought to the art, whatever it may be. When I have worked in museums or galleries, certain pieces came to feel like old friends with all the idiosyncrasies and vulnerability that comes with familiarity. I’m not asking you to buy Derek Jarman’s Blue an engagement ring (although we have all known of more ill-fated unions, haven’t we?) Just give your imaginative attention to the art, then, to riff on a Jasper Johns quote: take an object, respond to it, do something else in response to it.