Entanglement
By the mere naming of her performance “Entanglement,” artist
Kendall Nordin bridges the gap between science and mysticism, transforming
the notion of self into that of a medium, as a universal energetic conduit
of the universe, bridging connections between drawn events, making visible
the very thing that Einstein referred to as “spukhafte Fernwirkung"
or “spooky action at a distance.”
Quantum entanglement is a widely accepted theory within quantum mechanics
claiming that when particles, from the subatomic to the size of small diamonds,
interact physically and then become separated, they continue to behave as
though they are connected to one another, maintaining opposing charges or
directional spins (with one positive - spinning clockwise, and the other
negative - spinning counterclockwise), even when charges change after separation.
Kendall’s packaging of what Einstein initiated with Boris Podolsky and Nathan
Rosen, in a paper entitled the EPR Paradox in 1935, is a simple and quiet
representation of the magic of correlation between two repeated drawn actions
at a distance. One pencil in each of her two hands, with arms outstretched,
connected by the complex system of mind, body and otherness, leaves two
circular graphite energetically connected circular marks that Kendall connects
with another diagrammatic mark of a straight line. At the end of the performance,
visitors can witness multiple entangled actions at a distance as real actions
drawn together on a semi-translucent sheet of paper. Visitors are also invited
to take home a small circular physical paper ring with them, an act that
represents the possible infinite connection of entanglement the viewer now
has as an ecology of subatomic particles interacting and engaging with the
event, medium, and experience.
- Max B. Kazemzadeh
Asst. Professor of Art & Media Technology
Gallaudet University
Looking @ Kendall Nordin @ Container Space
Last month I drove out to the George Mason University campus
in Fairfax, Virginia, to see Kendall Nordin's work at Container Space. This
gallery is a converted shipping container outside the art building and is
maintained by the art department. Its programming focuses on installation
and site specific work.
When I arrived at Container Space in the middle of the afternoon, Nordin's
work was quiet. The air was still and warm and bright outside, and the little
shipping container turned gallery was like a dark cave; nothing was moving
inside. I knew, though, that the artist had imagined periods of stillness
and activity in her installation, so I decided to be patient. I walked all
the way into the container, taking my time, looking at the strings of tiny
acetate flags that were draped across the ceiling and down the walls. I
thought of Tibetan prayer flags or Mexican papel picado banners, as if each
little bit of acetate might have its own meaning or message that was hidden
to me. This hidden information was like a challenge to me the viewer. I
realized I would have to be quiet myself, and more open to my senses, before
I could really understand this work.
Eventually, I turned around to face the doorway and the bright light outside...and
then I began to see little flickers around the edges of my field of vision,
pulling my attention this way and that. As I moved, the flags responded,
waving, shaking, and catching the light. The work unfolded for me then,
as I slowly circled the space, watching for it.
I really appreciate seeing work that asks me to be patient and wait for
it. i feel like i don't get many opportunities here to see work like that.
- Mariah Johnson, artist & Porch Projects gallerist
http://arkangeles.blogspot.com
Metamorphosis of Space
Being tired after a long day and still in the middle of a
jet lag, it happened that I set foot in Kendall Nordin's studio in Tallinn.
I was completely out of shape at this moment, nervously trying to get myself
to do even more. The city rhythm of Vienna, the travel, and the sudden being
drooped out of a plane, with a straight landing in a completely different
world made me completely 'buzz'. I found my way through the big yellow studio,
stumbling some "Hello I'm Simon" and received a delightful smile along with
a friendly "Hi, how are you?" The woman had needles and threads in her hand
and was sitting on a big round table in front of some translucent papers.
Next to her was a cup of green tea. She sat there sewing in an inexplicable
meditative manner and with a few nice sentences she encouraged me to have
a look around.
I made a few insecure steps into the space and gazed upon a three meter
by one and a half meter broad sheet of yellowish paper, hanging form the
ceiling. At first look I hardly recognized this paper, svelte crinkling
itself down the wall, as a work of art. It rather looked like an unguardedly
mounted piece of paper hungrily waiting to be fixed straight, and to be
painted in a colorful and meaningful way. Although I couldn't understand
why, it was not possible to move on. There was something about this paper.
It did not let me go. It took me almost another half minute to find the
reason. The dainty and meticulously arranged crinkles reminded me of the
meander of a decent but small river, seen form an airplane, after it's water
gouged it's way through erratic grounds. On it's matted large surface, soft
indiscernible white lines and spaces gleamed like the reflected surface
of slightly agitated water, when the shine of the moon reflects in the lake.
Imagine a real Estonian summer and remember the steam that traversed the
little window of the Smoke-Sauna and the traces of steam on the glass, the
little drops of water that stick to it without forming small fluxing ditches.
In another corner of the room was a 10 x 10 cm piece of transparent plastic
material. Again I hardy recognized the soft forms on the surface and my
perception became hyper-sensitive. I felt my complete perceptional apparatus
drifting into a convenient, totally natural aberration. The slight but crystal-clear
divergence between this soft mode of perception and my normal state of mind
made me scrutinize the rest of the room for little abnormalities. Suddenly,
the tiny corner of the wall, the little black dots on the floor, even the
smallest irregularity became to be a potential work of art. The whole room
turned out to be one artwork. My world turned out to be in the middle of
an ongoing metamorphosis, not yet butterfly but not caterpillar either.
Not yet art and not yet real. Since my experience of Kendall Nordin’s work
my view of the world swaps between the dihedrals of art realities and physical
realities.
The energy within this room, her dulcet voice and the person I sensed she
was, as well as the inconspicuous and peculiar objects around her, were
drawing me out of my city-mode, into a uncertain state of exception which
I still enjoy today. Behind my desk I keep pondering, is this—the creation
of an opportunity to see the world differently—the real meaning and the
one challenge of art.
- With thankful greeting, Simon B. Haefele for Kendall Nordin.
Portraits of Fallen String
"Kendall Nordin's 'fallen string' drawings absolutely must
be seen in person to be understood. They have an illusionistic quality
that makes it appear that a fine human hair is attached to the page and
you're seeing its shadow. In fact it's all drawn. Through the delicacy
of the line, these works achieve a subtle trompe-l'œil effect that surprises
and delights."
- MuseumNerd www.twitter/museumnerd
