Many years ago, in a University bookshop, I picked up an intriguing book by a small, experimental publishing house. It had the outward appearance of a novel (pages, a cover, blurb on the back) but its content broke the rules. What appeared at first to be a normal, sentence-based narrative flow quickly fragmented. A word or two would be missing from a page. Then several words, then sentences, then paragraphs. Eventually only a scattering of letters appeared on a page, followed by several blank pages with perhaps the occasional inverted or incomplete word, concluding with a blank incoherence by the final binding.
The story, as much as could be determined before the incoherence set in, dealt with personal collapse. The author’s treatment of the novel form, their stepping outside of its established conventions, had a powerful alignment with the subject matter.
It took me perhaps three minutes to establish and admire the concept. I did not buy the book: there was no need. The point had been made, and it was an interesting point, but not one that merited expenditure.
I come back to this example regularly. When is it right to test the boundaries of a particular form of communication (to paint outside of the rectangle, to write doggerel, to invent exclusive new words, to manage a board differently, to run a business in a radical manner), and when is that the refuge of the under-talented? And to what extend would intended audiences enjoy (and reward) experiment outside of established boundaries?
For the moment, I have placed painting centre stage in my life. And I have decided to paint within the standard frame of the canvas. Both are artificial boundaries: why should I only paint within that square? Why should my “art” be limited to the application of paint to a flat surface? Is my work with organisations not a form of art, too? I have made these essentially arbitrary decisions, for the moment, because I am interested in strengthening my practice – and my praxis (theory-based practice) – within the accepted arbitrary rules. My feeling is that there is more learning and development to be had, at least for me, by taking this route. I watch others doing more radical practice and think simultaneously, how interesting, and I wonder how that pays.
Peter Gelf 