#studiointerview

Ed Paschke — Studio Interview & Paris Exhibition Card

Chicago, 2001 Paris, 1974

In 2001, I recorded a long-form studio conversation with Ed Paschke. The interview took place in his Chicago studio and focused on his relationship with Paul Carroll.

During that early visit to the studio, Paschke handed me this exhibition card from a 1974 exhibition at Galerie Darthea Speyer in Paris. He said it had been sitting around.

Included here is a portion of the recording in which Paschke recounts meeting William Burroughs, and how the mention of Paul Carroll’s name caused Burroughs to light up in recognition.

A transcript of this interview appears in Between Here and the Sound of a Groaning Interstate & The Groaning Book: A Poetics.

The audio and the card are presented together.

The interview documents a moment in Chicago’s cross-disciplinary art history. The card is a fragment from an earlier chapter of Paschke’s career.

Both remain part of the record.

INSPIRATION FROM FIRST YEARS

I spotted this through the window of the third year studios into the first year studios. All I could see was someone writing an obscene amount of text onto brown paper. My first thought was “oh my gosh that’s what I used to do - well still kind of do but wow that’s amazing”. 

I watched them - in a very uncreepy way - for a while, watching as they shook their hand when it got tired and take regular breaks when they couldn’t write anymore. I couldn’t see what they were writing, but I was amazed at how neat it looked. 

Eventually, I worked up the courage to get closer to the work and enter the first year studio. They were having a class, but it was individual consults so I didn’t think I would be interrupting too much - and Charles didn’t seem to mind my presence in there, looking at the work. The person who was writing wasn’t near the work so I walked right up to it, ignoring the looks from the first years who were no doubt wondering who this strange, exhausted looking person was on a mission to see this work. I got there, expecting to receive some clarity on the writing that had intrigued me from far away and it was in another language.

A. Different. Language. 

I was shocked. I was so confused. And I was really, really annoyed. I wanted to know what it said and suddenly I was stopped in my tracks. There was no clarity that I could gain from this. It was just a bunch of symbols I couldn’t decipher. And I really wanted to know what it said. I stared at this work for about twenty minutes. Just standing in front of it and staring. The person who this work belonged to came up to me after a while, probably confused as to why I was still staring at it after such a long time, and talked to me about it. 

We had a long conversation about what it said. I found out that the long strip of paper was the translation of a story she had written, and that the wider page was a translation of a book she really loved. She, like me, drew inspiration from literature and words. I taught her how to bind her wrist and arm to stop the strain from causing permanent damage and discussed the type of work I was doing at the moment that involved similar processes. She graciously allowed me to photograph her work and I retreated back to the third year studios, but I still occasionally stared at the work through the window until I left to go home. 

Jessica Carmody / ephemera memorabilia (terrible confessional and pathetic conversation) / video / bound document, three photographs, ace of hearts, two shopping lists, a letter, a card, a hospital meal ticket, a McDonalds order, lyrics / 15:00 duration

This is a video I recorded of me flipping through terrible confessional and pathetic conversation and matching up photographs, shopping lists, and various other items I’ve collected from strangers with confessions that directly reference them or suit them. The confessions are unable to be read, placing emphasis on the arranging of the ephemeral items. 

The sound in the video is the ambient noise of the studio space. People are heard walking around and pulling out chairs but there is no talking or discussion. I thought it important to leave the sound untouched as you can hear the pages turning and me picking up the photographs and lists. They suddenly become objects with agency as they have a sound and a place within the confessions that healed me. 

After having my consultation with Rachael I began to feel better about writing terrible confessional and pathetic conversation (it was the first I had spoken to anyone about it since I wrote it). 

It felt like a set back to write it. I felt as if I was returning to the work I did before and was abandoning all of the progress I had made in this semester trying out new perspectives, mediums, and experiences. I felt as if my practice was evolving into something different and by returning to the obsessive diaristic and the “writing to heal” mentality that I was ruining everything I had done. It felt as if my practice was no longer cohesive and I felt as if it didn’t belong. TCAPC felt like an alien in my current practice, it felt like the ghost of who I was haunting me, refusing to let me evolve, to let me grow. I wanted nothing more to do with it. I was scared by what I had written.