The light changes silently. The contrasts
become more pronounced.
Nothing seems to have moved, yet the
drawing is already different.
In the morning, I work as closely as possible to the drawing. My
gaze follows my hand. My hand moves forward, the
paper receives it, the pigments settle. As
I work, the distance between what I am doing and
what I am looking at shrinks.
The world is no longer before me.
I am close enough that I can no longer
see everything.
Then the light shifts, almost
imperceptibly.
A distance reappears between the drawing and me. That
which remained inaccessible whilst I was
entirely absorbed in the act becomes
perceptible.
Certain tensions become apparent. Gaps
that I hadn’t noticed appear.
The whole takes on new significance.
Yet the drawing may be physically
identical to the one I was looking at a few
moments earlier.
It is not necessarily the drawing that has
changed. It is what is accessible to me as I
look at it.
I observe this alternation.
When I am engaged in the act of drawing, certain
details hold my attention whilst
others fade into the background. When distance returns,
their balance shifts.
I can stand in front of the same drawing, in the same
spot, and no longer see the same things.
Distance is not measured solely between
my body and the paper. It can occur
within my attention.
I work. I pause. I look. I carry on.
With each pass, certain details
become accessible whilst others
are less so.
Proximity allows me to act within the drawing. Distance
allows me to see the whole picture again.
Neither of these positions gives me access to everything.
I can now use this alternation
as a working tool: interrupting the gesture,
allowing distance to return, observing what it
makes perceptible, then resuming.
The drawing is always there.
What changes is what my position allows me to see of it.
Find Juliette Savaëte on her official website: www.juliettesavaete.fr
