Schwebel’s name would come up a number of times after that.
In a car ride to Toronto: where I heard about the time he pretended to be Micah Lexier.
In passing at work when discussing the problems of counting user statistics: Schwebel has a piece where he paid people to visit selected artist-run centres numerous times, thereby skewing their visitor statistics.
After an opening over wine and snacks: where I heard about his MFA thesis piece. A year-long performance that ended with nothing in the gallery and an artist-talk performed by someone else.
Every time I heard more about his work. I was more and more intrigued, but still there was something inside of me that was frustrated. I just didn’t quite grasp it.
Maybe it’s my love of material practice.
Maybe it’s my lack of contemporary art knowledge.
Maybe I’m too self involved.
Maybe it’s because I was too shy to ask.
Maybe it’s a combination of things.
Whatever it is I got there, whatever that even means. A year has gone by and the work has started to seep into my brain and the more it does the more I love it. Part of the reason Schwebel’s work has now sunk in to my head is this article by Jon Davies in Border Crossings.
I’ve reached a point now where I no longer feel threatened by the work but challenged by it, and that’s an exciting place to be.