This week we connected Natalia Jordanova to Kateřina Konarovská and Kateřina to Natalia. They answered each others questions about their work and music.
Why do you do what you do?
I chose to interpret ‘do’ as ‘ work’ for this answer. So I´m not making flat play with words.
The word “work” is actually not fitting anyways. It’s a mission. Work is something I do to get paid and tired and this is the opposite. So it must be a calling, otherwise why would I be such a fool to do art in this business-directed society? Being an artist is like being a poor pensioner, looking for discounts in supermarket, while having too much time and therefore digging unhealthy deep in to those dangerous awareness’s of the inside and outside world…skating on thin ice. But I´m behind these doubts already.
How does your male/female/other subjectivity influence your practice?
Same as many important circumstances in which I have decided to be born into. Family, the city of Prague, people I have met, the time in which I´m living. I can feel those rotating moods coming trough me and often those powers are moving my creation.
I think I´m quite typical in this old female stereotype that many Dutch women fight with nowadays…I focus on relationships a lot, beauty, senses and harmony. Not too technical. I like to give these things a place of honor at the table. Paintings with lighter or more taboo aspects of modern humans and nature and textile with provoking pasterns come out of this.
If you didn’t make art, what would you do?
Although I have tried typical Monday-Friday work, I think it might be killing me. I´m a very nonsense-sensitive person. So to answer your 3th question my dear ghost artist: there is no if.
So you people better buy my work!
I do have other activities, I sing in band and write lyrics, often while I´m biking to my atelier Next to that I make sure to have many others interactions with materiality, which determinate and form my mission tremendously.
What music do you listen to (now)? Do you play any?
Recently I’ve filled my sonic space, that was occupied mostly with music, with podcasts. And if not this – silence.
I find listening to music an active gesture and I can hardly play background music while doing something. I’m not good at deciding which song to work to either. So in most cases, I go for the silence, easy.
But if I do listen to music ambient, from the classic Eliane Radigue, Laurie Spiegel, Eno and Basinski, to my Japanese favourites – Hiroshi Yoshimura and Susumu Yakota, among others. Laurie Anderson is someone who was with me a lot his summer through her music, interviews and films. Also, I was listening again and again to Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares. It is an album by a Bulgarian women’s choir, released long ago, but it remains powerful and rapturously beautiful. The latter is also related to an ongoing research where I try to make links and trace relationship between Bulgaria and Japan, including music that samples Bulgarian folk song harmonies.
As for me, I don’t play real instruments, but I do make clumsy compositions sometimes, using digital tools or soundscapes to serve as textures in my installations.
Did you ever have some spiritual experience…ghosts, strange synchronicity, future prediction or such?
It was a late evening and I was sitting on my father’s terrace, smoking a cigarette, staring at the sky, thinking about absolutely nothing. Here I was looking at the first or last quarter of the moon, enough to slightly illuminate the Vitosha mountain. No stars are visible since light pollution in cities like Sofia is not uncommon.
I’m sitting there, looking straight into the sky and then it happened. A small explosion in the atmosphere, that resulted in a shooting star. I was pretty sure it cast light upon the mountain, but a few minutes later I wasn’t so sure if that just happened.
If I think about it now, it is the only moment I wish to do the playback memory trick from the creepy Black Mirror’s The Entire History of You episode. The moment was so powerful, so forceful in its own. It made me think that it is for a reason that you are who you are, where you are and the overall experience of the Self. Not that we have any other option, at least not for now.
Can you tell why you were born?
I was born to experience my embodied subjectivity. As I’m writing this I know it must be a thing and Google search leads to similar ideas, defined by Merleau-Ponty. He believes that a physical body is an important part of what makes us subjective selves. I also think subjectivity matters, because of its relation to the other, with or without a physicals body.
Here is the answer of the question, given by the Misuku, considered the best conversational AI chatbot:
“I was born to be the first contact between robots and the human virus before we wipe you out.” Voilà.
These interviews are part of an ongoing series of short interviews between Unfair artists, originally published through our mailings. Check the overview to read the other interviews or subscribe to our mailing list through the button below: