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December 16, 2006
Who We Are and What We Do
Know this: Robbi and I balk at the idea of being "artists." We don't like the word, how it sounds, the associated adjectives, what it seems to mean in certain quarters.
And yet, we are to be included in a show in an "art" gallery. And by association we are forced to adopt the loathesome moniker. To compound the insult, we have been asked to draft an "artists' statement" to explain just what we're up to (from the artistic standpoint) in putting together these odd little books. Apparently, "because we want to" isn't enough in this context.
Robbi and I are on the road, in South Carolina, en route to visit my grandparents in Atlanta for a pre-holiday celebration. We sat in our motel room in Spartanburg this morning drafting the following. Please tell us if we're on the mark, full of hooey, etc. If, now that you know that we are moonlighting as "artists," you want to cancel your subscription, we completely understand.
Without further ado, our statement. (Hold your nose.)
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Idiots'Books artists' statement
Writer Matthew Swanson and illustrator Robbi Behr collaborate on books that attempt to expand upon (and invert) traditional notions of the illustrated word. The scope of their work can be pointed or sweeping, but the world beneath their gaze is compressed to the point of distortion. Theirs is a quiet critique in the guise of titillating oddness. Matthew's words combine in disorienting syntax; Robbi's drawings exaggerate and bully their subjects. Rather than serve as a literal representation of the words' intentions, the illustrations present a parallel visual narrative that works independently to explicate, enlarge, and often ironize the written one. The work balances cynicism and earnest critique, retaining a breath of optimism while acknowledging the absurdity of the world it beholds.
Both artists are prone to leaving holes in their work, stranding their vividly rendered subjects in the midst of a white space that both insulates and magnifies the underlying concepts. The written and visual threads, both incomplete in isolation, collide in unlikely sympathy; the meaning and humor of the work rise from this surprising juxtaposition. The reader is compelled to participate in closing the resulting gap, following threads left purposefully ambiguous.
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Apologies.
Posted by bogenamp at December 16, 2006 01:52 PM