At the start of this project, I had thought that the GPS would be an important aspect of my work process, but it simply became a navigational tool. Instead, I was drawn to social media, because the core of the project is the tongue rug itself, both communication artifact and archive. I’m curious about how people build narratives through crafted objects.
I was recently in Quebec City to give a workshop for the Tweet Pals – Twitosphère project with Metropolis Blue. I took a day to visit a few museums, notably the Musée national des beaux-arts du Québec and the Musée de l’Amérique française. Created in 1806 and situated at the historic site of the Séminaire de Québec, it is one of the first museums in Canada. The exhibit on the Augustines religious community (Moi, Augustine… Femme d’action et de prière) did not look intriguing at first glance, but it turned out to be a fascinating history lesson. The museum states that “the Augustines de la Miséricorde de Jésus religious community played a key role in developing Quebec’s healthcare system.” The objects on display from the Monastère des Augustines de l’Hôtel-Dieu de Québec’s collection are a testament to the order's religious devotion, their hospital work and their community service, dating as far back as 1639. The objects are also a window into the daily life of a cloistered community. It was these everyday artifacts that stimulated the artist in me, attracted to archives and ordering systems. I felt like I was on some sort of archaeology expedition, examining a self-contained micro-community — set off from the world and yet embedded within it through the notion of service. Surveying the glass cases filled with these “objects of routine”, I thought of Walser's Jakob von Guten (1909) and the film Institute Benjamenta by the Brothers Quay (1995).
Two displays captured my attention as I entered. One was a series of beads strung together in various forms, dating from the 19th and 20th c, and made of the commonest of materials like olive pits, wood and rolled up paper. They were called “Garland of Virtue” (Chapelet des vertus) and were thought to have been used by members of the order to count the many acts of virtue performed throughout the day. Another series of small wooden “Score Markers” (Plaquette de pointage) from the 19th and 20th c, about the size of a large deck of cards, were called “Game of Virtues”. Reminiscent of cribbage boards, these wooden surfaces were punctured with thirty numbered holes set out in three rows and attached to a string or wire with a wooden peg at the end of it. Each good deed was tallied throughout the day by pegging the respective number.
A handmade “Absenteeism Table” (Tableau indicateur d’absense, 1944) also piqued my curiosity. It was a simple wooden board with two rows of words carved into the surface with a small hole beside each word. A hook was affixed in the middle of the board and attached to it were two strings with a wooden peg tied to the end of each one. In this way, by pegging one of the holes beside a name, the location of a given person could be tracked.
What I found fascinating was the specificity of the list, how all the possible locations were already preconceived. This simple list of words spoke volumes of an ordered and regimented existence. If there were relatively little options of where one could possibly find oneself, ironically, members of the order probably enjoyed more freedom than most women living outside the community at that time. A world of learning was available within their microcosm: administrative duties, university studies, medical research, archives.
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There were two names on the board that were supple enough, vague, to give a little wiggling room from these prescribed places: À L’EXTÉRIEUR (the outside) and DE RETOUR-BIENTÔT (back soon).
I decided to create my own tracking-board though it would not localize where I was (absenteeism), nor track any good deeds, but simply, mark where I had been in terms of documenting my Lapalme-Legault-Angerbauer waypoints. Compared to the Augustines’ absenteeism chart, my self-imposed list of placenames has very little constraints; my movements are not hampered safe for logistical complications, such as the lack of a cycling trail, a flat tire, or the remoteness of a location. Yet, if I am free to go where I choose, I am not that naïve to think that we are no longer “tracked” in today’s society. There is a sort of societal surveillance through GPS-enabled smart phones and our own digital traces through social networks.
Object-ness
Through the use of microblogging and the paths traced by my travels, I have crafted a virtual sladdakavring. I thought it would be enough, but suddenly, there is a pressing need for object-ness after months of Web work. Lately, I feel the need to give form to the tongue rug, perhaps to bring the project to a close?
I decided I will explore the tongue rug further based on a series of blog sketches: (1) Blogger Tags Tongue Rug; (2) Twitter #Hashtag Tongue Rug; (3) Google Maps Tongue Rug; and, (4) Sladdakavring.
In January, I worked with Silver Tiger Printing in St-Henri on a set of silk-screened tongues. I wasn’t able to get the series underway in time for Reflets V. I will be participating in a group show at the Maison de la culture Marie-Uguay [April 7 - May 22, 2011]. I will simply show my online work in progress, talk of what I’ve been working on over the past years (cycling, blogging and twittering).
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