
Thirty spokes meet in the hub,
but the empty space between them
is the essence of the wheel.
Pots are formed from clay,
but the empty space between it
is the essence of the pot.
Walls with windows and doors form the house,
but the empty space within it
is the essence of the house
This empty space within is where my curatorial practice begins.
For me, the space between you and the person sitting next to you is the architecture.
It is both a space of finite and infinite character that hinges on pure potentiality.
Through curation, I activate this space and make it into material.
I am a “platformist”
I make platforms for people to engage in the profound act of listening.
I propose to curate the space of listening. That is the space that exists in the in-between—The space between things. I aim to curate this space which is suspended in pure potentiality; knowing only itself as a means unto other means rooted within a complex system of rhizomatic relationships. In order to attempt such a seemingly abstract practice, first let us start with unpacking the notion of listening.
Foremost, it is important to understand the two forms of dialogue that need distinction in order to understand what it means to listen. The first form of dialogue is dialogue disguised as monologue.[1] Man, gifted with the ability to think, abuses dialogue as if it were a sport, speaking at each other without ceasing until one has overcome the other. This does not necessarily qualify itself as an active argument, but simply out-thinking, and out-speaking the other, as if to prove ones capacity for knowledge. The transaction lacks a receiver and fades away as it fails to reach the ears of the other. This dialogue, tainted by ego is hardly any dialogue at all. Rather, such a transaction might better be understood as mere monologue, disguised as such.
The second form of dialogue is a bit more complicated to unpack, however Martin Buber seemed to have put it best when he described it as process of “becoming aware.[2]” This genuine form of dialogue is much more than simply exchanging ideas and forms. Rather it is the understanding and acknowledgement of the relationship in itself as a whole. It is a specific care towards the other, which is neither withdrawing from ones’ own self nor is it an objectification of the other. It is an act of taking into account the nature between you and the other. In a person-to-person exchange, dialogue—in its most essential form, is an organic reciprocal participation in the between nature of things.[3] Dialogue can also be understood here as a reciprocal act of listening.
Inspired by the Guatarri’s notion of the partial object, I wish to transform the galleries into a partial space.[4] The partial object is a term that Guatarri refers to in Chaosmosis signifying an art form that refuses such categories as painting, sculpture and installation. The term is understood rather, as surfaces, volumes and devices, which “dovetail within strategies of existence.” The partial object is a segment that lies upon a plane of infinite potentiality. Through transforming the ‘architecture’ of the gallery into a partial space, the mode of viewing transforms into a mode of participating within a space that fosters dialogue through—group discussions, panel events, interviews, readings, workshops, installations, film screenings and performances. These events, however are not the ends of the dialogue space, rather they are the very platforms upon which greater social collaborations might evolve.
The dialogue space has three essential distinguishing characteristics that allow it to take shape. First of all, to begin with the obvious, there needs to be a dialogue. That is, a necessary ongoing exchange of ideas and a drawing awareness of relational values.
The second important characteristic of the dialogue space is modularity. The space needs to move. It has to be willing to be transformed without giving up its transformative qualities
The third aspect of the dialogue space that is intertwined with the previous two has both to do with critical and practical output. The previous two would only prove ambivalent without this third trait. To utilize dialogue and its modular capacity to provoke and expound upon the between nature of things is in its simplest form, what the dialogue space is about.
In dealing with architecture of potential and spaces that are structured as non-structures, I have begun to think about dialogue in motion. Why designate a single space to all sorts of dialogue…wouldn’t that simply place your “non-structure” into a structural paradigm? What if you would continue to shed the skin of the gallery by curating spaces under bridges, at stop-lights, in restaurants, windows and inside other structures (such as museums)? What about curating in schools, theatres, churches and businesses? I want to pursue a curatorial practice that continually pushes against the objectified intentions of particular spaces to reveal the unrealized potentiality with them. If the dialogue space were to become a modular space that could be transported and transformed by different areas, different cities, different countries, it would require much more than a mere location scouting. Each location must allow its surrounding environment; its people, its culture and traditions to influence how that space goes about forming a dialogue with the community. What works in one city might not work in the other, just as what works with one person probably will not work with the other. It is a colliding of ideas, backgrounds and human beings that necessitates healthy reciprocal communication. Each side has to offer itself to the other by grace as well as understanding in values, which requires from both parties dare I say, the act of listening.
Space might be constructed, refurbished, torn down and or abandoned. It can be created, imagined and forgotten. Unlike these spaces however, the dialogue space will be specifically turned inward on itself in order to investigate these dynamic relationships that ebb and flow through it. Rather than fully defining space, the dialogue space will be a process of becoming, open to change and possibility. It will escape definition in order to allow its history, its culture and its inhabitants to take part in its overall creation. More importantly, the space will maintain an inward self-criticality that molds and shapes it. This molding will take place through varying forms of creative processes that respond to the overall dialogue taking place within it.
Currently, I am a member of the artist collective Stone Soup. Stone Soup is a dinner-based art collective that considers the condition of listening and the process of intercultural dialogue as a vital conduit for valuable social collaboration. We host dinner parties every Friday night in conjunction with specific art related topics to be discussed. These discussions move us towards a variety of creative collaborations.
This semester we have taken on the topic of sacred and secular within contemporary art. Drawing much from James Elkin’s text On the Strange Place of Religion in Contemporary Art we have covered notions of unconscious religion, sacred decay and the contextualization of sacredness by a secular culture. By inviting specific guests into our dialogue we have been able to form a critical framework in which to talk about slippery subject matters such as these. Furthermore, we have been able to initiate ongoing discussions pertaining to food and ritual, art and ethics, pornography, collaboration, new collectivism, and relational aesthetics. Our newest topic for this summer will be a project initiative to learn and teach year round gardening techniques so that we can begin growing our own food to serve during our dinner events.
I believe the rest of the group would agree that we are still in our infant stages, learning and interacting on a level where mistakes happen more often than not and cracks continue to be sealed. We are a group that is malleable, permeable and open to the new.
As a group that is in itself both transformative and transforming, it is essential that each participant understands the invaluable act of care towards the other. Martin Buber refers to this as the “I-Thou” relationship in which one’s willingness to connect across his or her differences to the other is bound to one’s understanding of the self----intrinsically tied to all things the self includes one’s relationship to Man, Nature and God- who is the essential “Thou.”

In Dostoevsky’s novel The Brothers Karamazov, a wealthy woman asks an elderly monk how she can know if God exists. He tells her no explanation or argument can achieve this, only the practice of “active love.” She then confesses that sometimes she dreams about a life of loving service to others. At such times she thinks perhaps she will become a sister of Mercy, live in holy poverty, and serve the poor in the humblest way. But then it crosses her mind how ungrateful some of the people she would serve are likely to be. They would probably complain that the soup she served wasn’t hot enough or that the bread wasn’t fresh enough or the bed was too hard. She confesses that she couldn’t bear such ingratitude—and so her dreams about serving others vanish, and once again she finds herself wondering if there is a God.
To this the wise monk responds, “Love in practice is a harsh and dreadful thing compared to love in dreams.”
I did not intend here to end on the note of love, and learning how to love well, but here I am and here I admit to you that I myself in accord to all that I have been speaking of, know little about what it means to listen, and what it means to love. I can continue to prose to you about my great aspirations for creating a dialogue space, and a curatorial practice of between natures- but the truth is—I’m getting married soon and I have never been more confident that the remaining decades that this life offers me will only enhance my perspective on what all of these words that I haphazardly dispense to you truly mean.
[1] Buber, Martin. Between Man and Man
[2] Ibid.
[3] I am referring to things here not as an arbitrary relationship. Rather, I am referring to the three essential categories of our relationship to things: that is Man, Nature and God.
[4] Guitarri. Chaosmosis
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