the space between 2016
Two Channel HD Video Installation (5:20 min.color, sound)
Anchorage, Alaska
In the dead of winter 2016, Amy Johnson set out on foot to make another film of a lone female persona — this time on a frozen lake in the Chugach National Forest. She wore a dress that she made of warm fabric and feathers in the spirit of the Willow Ptarmigan, the state bird of Alaska and a master of camouflage. On the way to the lake, a storm suddenly descended forcing her and her team to stop and begin filming where they were in a deep snowy valley. Winter, with its relentless storms, is naturally a time for pause, but at that moment, Johnson’s performance took on a new meaning that spoke directly to the human capacity to adapt, reflect, and pause. Back in her studio, Johnson decided on the double projection to simulate a giant kaleidoscope — reflecting, folding, unfolding — recreating the disorienting winter whiteout. And she remembered the Japanese word Ma, which means pause or the space between. For example, Ma refers to the space between two musical notes or between breaths. In this context, winter is Ma — the space between the abundance and decay of autumn and the melt and rebirth of spring.
“Once upon a time, there was an artist, and she loved the earth, and the earth loved her, and she wore feathers in her hair and around her neck, a Willow Ptarmigin, skilled at camouflage, well suited to brutal cold, and with her hands she dug through snow, burrowed, until she was two, not alone, connected, grey light, golden grasses, faces hidden then revealed then hidden again, feathers caught on sticks in snow, in wind. What is being uncovered? What is being buried? What might she build?”