Corridor40

Just last Saturday, there was a wonderful, city-wide tour of artists’
studios open to the public. I was delighted to see so many interesting
versions of creativity, but stumbling upon Vadim Gershman’s masterpiece
concept was my greatest pleasure. When I entered Fort Gondo Gallery, I
was immediately attracted to a 20-foot scroll of yellowed paper, starkly
nailed at the top of the wall and unraveled across the entire
floor, revealing Vadim’s ode to his beloved studio, which was slated to
be torn down soon in the name of progress.

Happy to see an interested visitor, he approached me with an enthusiasm
few artists exhibit when the opportunity arises to discuss their work.
Vadim began to describe his unique artistic style, and the conversation
progressed politely–until he showed me /Glitch/, his new publication and
community web project; then I was enraptured! There it was; an
intriguing, yet simple, 8” x 10” box with a cloud-like abstract on its
cover, just begging to be opened. It had the mystique of a stranger you
want to get to know and for whatever reason, you just have to get into
their head!

Inside was a conglomeration of poetry, journal entries, letters and
musings from various writers-slash-artists–random, diverse and surreal,
neatly folded accordion-style and printed from a primitive Microline 320
Turbo printer which made the documentation look like it might have been
cryptic thoughts from a lost place and time. Back to the future, or
nostalgic days gone by?

To read this first issue of /Glitch/, one must painstakingly unravel the
pages, then blithely coast through poetic diaries protesting a
socially-controlled environment–humorous letters to conglomerates such
as Nabisco, with comments based on such topics as the back of cereal
boxes, and one lone visual.

But it is the life of /Glitch/ as a newborn concept that had my head
spinning with excitement because, as Vadim explained it, “The
publication deals with distortions and deviations from any number of
accepted notions, specifically as it relates to the individual
experience and expression.”

Within the /Glitch/ experience, we enter the deepest of spaces, where an
artist feels safe to broadcast both his insanity and his genius. It is a
place where the conversation itself becomes a means of bartering and,
where artistic collaborations are so rich with nourishment to the
spirit, the hunger for money is eliminated and the trampled ego of the
artist can find respite. Each artist has a new venue for enterprising
thought, surrounded by a chorus of encouragement. In Glitch, its artists
are molding a new world of communication.

Q: What was your inspiration for /Glitch/ and its themes, particularly
the idea of  collaborating with other artists?

A: It really all started with music. A lot of the creative impulses I
have come from music one way or another.

Q: So /Glitch/ music created an open space for creating art that wasn’t
really known?

A: Experimental and abstract music created a space for me to imagine. To
see the possibilities of a feeling and a set of some pre-existing
notions coming to life in the form of a printed object.

Q: So after you found the concept how did the product develop?

A: It had to have some kind of conceptual root, be it in music or some
other area, but the thing itself developed as a place to explore and
experiment with collaborative production and it also provided a place to
play with graphic form and print.

Q: What are some other reasons you chose to work with other artists?

A: For the exchange. But, there’s a different type of currency that gets
exchanged in collaboration; a conversation between two people is a kind
of currency within itself. It’s not money and services, or goods;
there’s a greater, almost spiritual experience that’s difficult to
categorize. It’s porous and abstract, but it’s there, it’s real. That
connection with other artists contributing to /Glitch/ is what I enjoy.
That’s the currency I’d like to receive for this work, of course after
recouping for all of the expenses. This is America.

Q: What really excited me was that you didn’t put /Glitch/ into any
category. It really was a space to find freedom in creation, to be
whatever it was meant to be.

A: Yeah, but it’s still about images and words; you can’t get away from
that. If you want to preserve an experience, you still have to use words
and images–but who is to say that it has to be categorized.

Q: I brought this zine from Dave Choe with me; this one is called
/Bruised Fruit/, from Slowjams. I feel that Glitch is a higher-end
version of a zine. How do you feel about that comparison?

A: I’ve always really liked and respected zines, but could never get
into them. When I see a zine, it automatically puts itself in its own
category and establishes a viewing plane for me so I can’t really look
at it with fresh eyes. I see a photocopied and dense publication and I
already have a whole set of expectations before picking it up. I didn’t
want that to be the case with /Glitch/ I want it to have its own raw,
confused quality.

Q: Do you feel like that comes across in the aesthetics of your work, as
an artist and as publisher of /Glitch/?

A: I hope so. I’m all glitched-up; I’m not sure what I’m doing. I’m
really unsure where the whole thing is going. But you have no choice
but to keep doing it. Uncertainty is not a good enough excuse to stop
doing things.

Theglitch.info