Sur le fil
Rather than appropriation (this vocabulary around the proprietorial being an already rather dated concept), Ana Jotta’s art might be seen as a highly idiosyncratic, free-ranging approach to assembling and gathering about her (and us) images, objects and ideas. With them, she defines an order and a structure, opening up windows in the host exhibition space. Rather than asking herself “what?” she prefers to ask “how?” How to come to terms with a place, a moment, a situation, a time or a period? Here, embroidery is on a par with painting, commonplaces and platitudes with poetic text, a painted cup with a snippet of film dialogue that you’ve been carrying around with you for ages. We have the impression that the artist is letting us peer over her shoulder, that she’s emptying her pockets and drawers for us, with scant regard for whether we might care for the colour of her thoughts. But perhaps it’s about someone other than herself, the kind of person who thinks they ought to leave their mark or is convinced that by changing their name they can change identity. Ana Jotta claims that her art is seriously Franciscan, although she says so with an unwavering smile. Between the cynical laughter of philosophers and the smile of a cat, like a breath, a charm, glides this art of movement. Following on from Ti Re Li Re, her remarkable exhibition last summer at the Crédac centre for contemporary art, comes a desire for conversation. We will be joined by Claire Le Restif.
