Deborah Schamoni

The Screens / The Islands (2009)
Scene 1: Eat Me / Beat Me
Scene 2: Weep More Cheaply, Ruthless Sentimentality
Scene 3: I am a Receptacle for Your Extremities
Scene 4: A Happily Dissatisfied Insufficient Quantity
Scene 5: Stay Hungry, Filthy Beauty of Togetherness,Witness the Maddened Approach of Intent
Scene 6: Perpetual Profanity, Infernal Vigilance
Scene 7: Coming Soon


So many Ideas! Old and new: triumphant or blue. It’s clearwalking streets of any town or city that they prosper. It oftenseems though that some more public ideas are and have beenripped from academic deportment manuals or social sedativeprescriptions and turned into monuments and memorials.From philanthropic throb to empathic empty, a monument’scourse through the public mind oft only becomes anythingother than an instrumentalised tune when chatted around.scribbled upon, driven past at high speed or pasted up with theunerring tromp of weekly cultural schedules by typesminiaturised yet anyhow guerrilla inspired.

Wanting to regard my place in a lineage of strong writtenpositions and projections of power these rendezvous intosocial globules of brick, mortar, marble or stone emit, I wasthinking of the conflicts Ideas have posed in my very ownsocial, familial, educational, sexual or national older times. I was thinking of a more honest monument to the interior forexterior purposes

I’d of course use a material fit for rain, and sun. I’d think ofmyself, the thing I’ve become and then try to imagine itdressed in many of the habits I earlier described as other tothe planned reception of pomp and permanence. Chatter, chant, charge and fear, resolve, deception, speculation andhindsight will all be pushed onto thick paper and cast in stone.

I will take a heavy grade poster paper, at times screen printedwith words which try to describe the above mood and dunk it inconcrete push it into shapes reminiscent of various publicfixtures as well as free forms forced into being by their ownmaterial volition.

As far as how the sculpture will look, I imagine a blockymodular greyish mass straddling the entrance steps emergingfrom the lowerhall. This social sculpture-somehowcamouflaged bytheroom’s concretehaze_will beinterspersed with moments of bright screen print ink of postersized ‘concrete’ poetry in varying degrees of nakedness andremain.