MARK MANDERS

Works A
Works B
Drawings
Exhibitions
Various
Books
Texts
Biography
Public Collections
Contact
Inhabited for a Survey (First Floor Plan from Self-Portrait as a Building) (1986)
Drawing with Shoe Movement / Two Consecutive Floor Plans from Self-Portrait as a Building (May 21, 2002) (2002)
Documented Assignment (1998)
Rags / Rope / 429 (1996)
Short Sad Thoughts (1990)
Table / Corner / Typewriter (1998)
Staged Android (2000)
Coloured Room with Black and White Scene (1998–99)
Parallel Occurrence (2001)
Figure with Iron Ruler (2004)
Silent Factory (2000)
Unfired Clay Figure (2005–06)
Nocturnal Garden Scene (2005)
Figure with Fake Dictionaries (2006)
Still Life with Interconnected Holes (2006)
Small Isolated Room (2004)
Isolated Bathroom (2003)
Room with Landscape and Fake Ballpoint (1999)
Notional Cupboard (1989–2003)
A Place Where My Thoughts Are Frozen Together (2001)
— (— / — / — / — / — / — / — / — / — / —) (1994)
Rope Study (1993–94)
Finished Sentence (1998–2006)
Ramble Room Chair (2010)

Inhabited for a Survey (First Floor Plan from Self-Portrait as a Building)

 (1986)
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Writing materials, erasers, painting tools, scissors / 8 x 267 x 90 cm / The Art Institute of Chicago (gift promised by Donna and Howard Stone)

MM: I made this floor plan in 1986 from all the writing tools I had at the time. These served as the basis for a written self-portrait, which was to be formed collectively by seven imaginary persons in a building. It was to be a book without a beginning or an end, one that I would always have to keep working on. I thought it was interesting that it was a dry, formal floor plan, in which no movement whatsoever could be observed. I wanted to project a mental self-portrait into this floor plan, one in which everything would take place only in language. Making a self-portrait seemed to me the most fundamental thing to do. However, while writing it I found I did not like the idea of using written sentences to dictate to the audience exactly what they should think. I did not want the self-portrait to become really personal—it had to remain abstract. I became more and more fascinated by the physical manifestation of the floor plan: how I stood there before it as a human being; how tall I was in relation to the things on the ground; how the changing light transformed a ballpoint pen so dramatically; how I could bring my eye closer to an eraser and what then happened inside my head. This zooming-in created a breathtaking cinematic experience: I could move over these objects, and they dictated my thoughts with their color, language, form, and their indescribable physical coherence. I concluded that making a self-portrait in language was not the right thing to do. The world itself is more complex than the world of language which has been embedded in it. I decided to write the book not with words but with objects, and to embed the self-portrait in reality as an imaginary building.... If you write a self-portrait using objects, it will be read in a totally different way. Viewers—or readers—of the objects construct their own new thoughts, and the result is a self-portrait that is suspended between the maker and the viewers.
This floor plan was never really meant to be an artwork, it was more like a strange kind of writing machine. Now it is a work of art. It is used as an artwork.