The concept driving this methodical drawing is quite s
imple. Imagine an arrow pointing left to right, tail to tip. Now imagine a sentence strung across a page (this particular sentence suspended on your computer screen will work just fine too). One easily could write the letters making up your sentence from right to left (In actuality, I typed these words from right to left). No matter how hard you try, you always will end up reading it from left to right. It's ingrained. For this performance drawing, I took the same idea and replaced words with an arrow--an arrowhead instead of a period. It's easy to lie with two-dimensional arrows, they are merely visual devices that imply motion. An arrow may guide your eye with clarity and authority, but it very well could be the residue of more sporadic activity. In How to Confuse an Arrow with Motion, Grant Davidson and I drew six arrows which became an accurate depiction of the physical drawing process in some respects while deceiving the viewer in other respects.
This is an image of a drawing I did leading up to the performance above; it's titled Arrows Drawn: Mapping a site-specific work. As you can see, similar ideas at play, but with slightly different quarks. This is a two-dimensional mapping of a three-dimensional drawing so the descriptions written across the bottom seem buffooned at first glance. They read, "an arrow drawn counterclockwise" and "two additional arrows drawn clockwise on a different day." This is also a nod toward my fascination with labeling and mislabeling--the latter becoming more often the norm in our constantly rebranded culture.
