The Map, a site-adjusted installation, is an experimental terrain. It situates material from another post-industrial site to this one. It locates and relocates the viewer. It unfolds a history and the dimension of being within and outside of equally. It is mistaken, misunderstood and misaligned. It makes architecture by conflating realities, geographies and topographies. It folds contingent constructs and agencies. It maps its guest to specific geographic, historical and personal conditions. It has to do with surveying realms that are yet to be understood. And this is what the assembly does: it, like a map, “constructs” –
The map does not reproduce the real but constructs one, it connects, it is open, multiple and reworkable. The map, that is, is never a finished product but remains a multiple open work, which inevitably refers to something that is both internal and external to it – a referent that is not represented but produced.[i]
Within is a new type of envelope that consists of sheet lead harvested from a 1924 printing warehouse in Des Moines, Iowa. Originally a shower liner, the heavy metal has been suspended within the entrance hall sharing proximity with the slab on grade. The varied deformation of its topographic surface is incident with the southern light, which creeps in over the course of the day. The work consists of two halves, bisected for the sake of removal from its original host space, that have been rejoined and overlapped. It no longer is a single continuum but rather a multi-layered terrain of otherness similar to the landscape ‘out there.’
[i] Teresa Stoppani, Mapping: the locus of the project, (Angelaki Journal of Theoretical Humanities, Vol. 9, No. 2, 2004), p. 186.