2011-2013


The ghost floats, yet never runs


Three girls sit together tight, intertwined with each other. They look at us, each from her own gaze, and together, take a slight leap in their chairs.

Sadness is a vague matter, like the atmosphere that surrounds these girls. An atmosphere woven from a vaporous yet surprisingly solid material. As for the girls, we don't know what they are made of. Neither approaching to them or sticking our nose to the limit that separates us will reveal their riddle. But they are definitely there, that is a fact. They exist and they stare at us; perhaps even breathe; and —I know it is daring to say this, but why not— sometimes I believe I hear them speak.

The old persistence on capturing time seems resolved in a way as simple as the action of catching air in a jar. Whatever retains and keeps these girls together contains time and air as well; as much air and as much time as it can fit in such a small space: a breath of air, one- or two-minutes time and just three girls (not even one of them being complete).

Air, time and girls are rock-solid, but they move slightly. They are air, time and girls, but they are also something else, something that bears no name and has an arbitrary form —that of the box that used to contain them—. The box no longer exists. They —air, time and girls—are the ghost of the box; they are their own box.






Related texts:

- “Undercover IV” _( german)_(english)
- “And no more shall we part”,  by Selva Almada_(german)






Mark

2014-2015


Still


Whenever one takes a break from work, sculptures are usually covered in drop cloths to preserve the clay and maintain a constant humidity. Image and mask become thus one, simultaneously. Those worn, old rags conceal these unfinished sculptures in the same way a curtain hides the stage behind it. STILL —referring to a single photographic print, or to one frame of motion-picture film, but also in the sense of quietness, calm and silence, groups together a series of sculptures made out of unfinished sculptures freezed in the midst of their own creative process.


Related texts:
- “Masked Ball”, by Ariel Authier
- “ Homage to a negative form prior to its disappearance”, by Susanne Greinke_(german)_(english)



Still_book


A book was born out of these series of sculptures; a book containing texts, images and music; a multidisciplinary project that records the singular experience of 20 spectators before the same series of sculptures, transforming them into a collective narrative. 

A book by Ayelén Coccoz in collaboration with Selva Almada; Damián Anache; Ariel Authier; Pablo Chimenti; Susanne Greinke; Abel Guaglianone and Joaquín Rodríguez; Alejo Hoijman, Daniel Jablonski; Juan Matías Killian; Estefanía Landesmann; Javier Lesa; Federico Levín; Zui Long; Gerardo Naumann; Ma nán hé-Yi pèi zhēn; Mariano Pensotti; Mara Pescio; Bárbara Togander and Nicolás Varchausky.

The book has been edited with the support of Mecenazgo Cultural; published in a limited edition of 400 copies and printed in Buenos Aires in 2019.

A PDF version of the book ( bilingual edition spanish-english) and the music album are available for free download. 


ph. Jimena Passadore








Mark Still_album by INKILINO RECORDS

2017-2018

Piece of evidence


In January 2017 I started a new project based on my own personal diary; a sort of game made out of small—scale dolls and objects. I began with the production of my own self; my very character. For technical reasons, my small-scaled head and body remained detached during construction. In two months’ time I had already worked out the body, but my head had undergone continuous changes and was still unfinished. To make a record of such changes I made molds during each stage of the process.

In March 2018, I suddenly felt I had made a breakthrough: I was certain to have reached the final version of my own head, just some little details around the eyes were still missing. I wrote this down in my diary. As I was taking a look at it randomly, I came across an older note, from August 2017, that read: «Nothing seems to change, but today I worked hard and now I feel I have made quite a progress. My head is almost done, just some little details around the eyes are still missing».





Piece of evidence, 2017-18
120 failed attempts on making a self-portrait during 8 months’ work.

Masks: each 3.5 cm high x 2.5 cm wide.
Plasticine, wax, CX5, stone clay, polyurethane resin, epoxy resin, polymeric clay, natural hair, oil, pencil, magnets.
Octagonal wooden structure 180 cm high x 170 cm wide.





Mark



2018-ongoing

A vaguely familiar portrait


Every time I work on a portrait (a task that can take up to several months), the face of whoever I am working on goes through different stages during which it bears resemblance to different people —this happens without any conscious purpose—. For instance, if I am working on a self-portrait, no matter how many mirrors and photos I may use as reference; the faces of my mother, my sister and my daughter will eventually show up. If I am making a portrait of my sister, it will be my mother, my brother, my daughter and myself who will alternate. If I try to do a portrait of my daughter, I will also be portraying myself and my husband.  When lunging on the portrait of my husband, his father, my grandfather and a gnome will appear in due course. And while doing a portrait of my father-in-law, my daughter and my husband will arise again —but then it is the gnome who will prevail.



                                                                                                                             

Work on process , check for updates.






Mark

2018-ongoing





POOTORETO  -  ポートレート
Living portraits

Pootoreto —Japanese for ‘portrait’, is a company aimed at creating customized portrait-dolls, meant to be a joint collaboration together with the person being portrayed. The project is set to launch in 2020 with an exhibition of portrait-dolls and a series of related activities. If you are interested in being portrayed or want to know more about this project, please email us at pootoreto@gmail.com.

             





Mark
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