‘As a way of overcoming their creative disputes, Leo and Diane Dillon, painters and book illustrators have invented the ‘third artist’—a
personification of their relationship and professional identity as a team.’ (Diane) ‘…It was something that was a combination of the two of us, more like a separate entity…”
(Leo) ‘…It’s kind of weird to talk about it, but the third artist is a very real entity for us. It sounds bizarre, but we never knew what the hell it was going to do next.’
(Diane) ‘ We’re really one artist’
(Sarnoff & Sarnoff cite Dillon & Dillon: 117-118)
Diane and Leo Dillon are one of several sets of collaborating artists who have described the emergence of a ‘separate entity’ or unidentified ‘third artist’ in relation to their collective practices. Charles Green (2001b: 181) similarly cites, for example, Marina Abromovic and Ulay who ‘insisted that their [collaborative] actions created a third hermaphroditic energy… a phantom body… a third entity.’ Based on an accumulation of these types of references, the Sarnoffs (2002) deduct that through these deeper collaborations, collaborators ‘virtually create a new being’ (44) -- ‘a psychological entity that did not exist when they first met’ (26). Simultaneously, however, they acknowledge the intangible essence of this energy. Thus despite the fact that artists continually personify this phenomenon and attribute a physical dimension to it, it remains intransient. What, then, is this third artist or element? Where does it come from?
According to Charles Green:
… [one possibility] is that the double identity created in artistic collaboration could be described as a phantom extension of the artists’
joint will, rather like a phantom limb… the artists’ phantom appendage or third hand (Green 2001b: 186).
A third hand in this case does not imply a third artist; nor does it imply merely a collectivity or joining in aesthetic or purpose; rather, it develops from where the artists overlap and therefore belongs equally to both or all of them. They each, in this metaphor, still possess their own bodies-- their own two hands. The third hand is not a replacement, but an addendum. Nevertheless, to inhabit this hand the artists must in some way join with one another, for only in this joining does the hand exist. Thus, Green rightly describes the third hand as a phantom limb— it feels, but cannot touch; it can move, but cannot be seen. In part, its absence makes it what it is— it is perceived by the mind, but remains unembodied.
The Sarnoff’s on the other hand, raise another possibility-- that this ‘phantom’ element is the collaborative relationship itself:
It is common place to hear people refer to their intimate connection as ‘it’—as if their relationship were some alien object imposed on them by an unfathomable and capricious source beyond their control, a ‘thing’ they had no part in creating and have no further personal responsibility for directing… “It is working,” or “It isn’t working”
(Sarnoff & Sarnoff 2002: 25). The use of the impersonal pronoun implies that this entity is ‘other’ than the artists—that it possesses its own identity or its own will. If, however, it also derives from a ‘connection,’ it must to some degree rely on the artists’ individual identities and practices, taking shape not only from those aspects that overlap, but also from where they diverge. By suggesting that the artists lack control over this entity, the Sarnoffs imply that the collaborative context supersedes the individual. In other words, the collaborative context ‘defines and elaborates the individual rather than vice versa’ (Kasulis 1981:8).
Compared with Japanese linguistic and communicative etiquette, this concept mirrors the relationship of a conversation to its speakers. In Zen Action, Zen Person, T.P. Kasulis (1981:8) explains how ‘In Japan the context is given primacy over the individual.’ Thus, where English emphasises language as a means to an end, in which the goal is to relay a message as accurately as possible to the intended ‘receiver,’ in Japanese the context or conversation defines its speakers and listeners. Understood as a metaphor for collaboration, this suggests that the identity of the collaboration or communicative exchange subsumes the artists’ individual identities. Rather than individual consciousnesses, each speaker represents a ‘‘direction’ (kono kata)’ or ‘orientation’ within the communicative exchange (ibid.). This is not merely an act of the other, but also an act of the self. Each speaker acknowledges both herself and the other speakers (collaborators) not as individuals, but as a part of the communicative relationship—as part of the collaborative ‘it.’ Thus, as with the ‘third voice’ described in relation to Miller and Broumas’ (1985) collaborative writings cited in the introduction, the voice of the collective conversation supersedes the artists’ individual voices.
As mentioned in the previous section, however, not all collaborative conversations share equal depth. It therefore follows that not all collaborations can develop a phantom element. As Green (2001b: xiii) observes:
Many short-term collaborations preserve each individual’s authorial signature-style, even though the participating artists might all contribute to each area of work…But such short-term collaborations that preserve authorial style rarely occupy much more than an incidental position within an artist’s oeuvre.
Thus, for a group of artists to produce a phantom element, the collaborative exchange must act on the artists’ individual voices. In other words, it cannot
merely develop from an interweaving of the collaborators’ exchanges into a composite sending; it must also simultaneously influence each individual artists’ communication, helping to define the artists’ identities within the collaboration until a new voice is created--- a voice that is born out of this interweaving and influencing. It must possess a new authorial signature.
In a sense, this new authorial signature is this phantom element; it is born out of an intermingling of ideas, voices and identities while, as described above, it also depends on specific individual factors. It remains distinct from each collaborator’s individual artistic signature or voice, but also consists of these voices. Many collaborating groups additionally claim that at times, this ‘signature’ acts on its own. To paraphrase the Dillons, they do not know what it will do next. In other words, the phantom possesses not only an authorial signature, but also a will of its own. Although this signature belongs to a third hand, this third hand belongs to a third (or additional) artist. This artist, however, is not merely another collaborator; the collaborators, after all, produced this artist. As the Poiriers explain, rather, the third artist is ‘a new invented author’—the author of the collaborative work (Sarnoff & Sarnoff cite Poirier &Poirier 2002: 90).
Ultimately, this phantom entity exists in all of these guises: it is the collective voice, and the collective author; it is the third hand, and the shared authorial signature. Most notably, it inhabits the qualities of the collective work that do not exist in the artists’ individual practices. It exists as well, in the evolution of the individuals toward a collective identity. In the same way that the rhythm of a
poem can eventually lead its writer to certain words in certain orders, this phantom can lead its artists toward certain decisions and ideas.
In the case of Nomadics this rhythm guided us, just as we guided it. For us, the phantom existed in shared feelings of authorship; it was the merging and re- vocalisation of ideas; the sudden inspirations which certain ideas or images sparked; the connection between different ideas; the feeling of collectively losing ourselves in the project; the feeling of collectively owning the project; the red walls of The Shavings Room and the randomness of finding a plush red couch and armchair on the side of the road; the red velvet fabric in a skip that caught our attention and became the exit of The Corridor. More than anything else, it was the balance between all of these things; between leading and being led; between giving and taking; between letting the rhythm carry us, and creating it ourselves.
The remainder of this thesis will focus on how these deeper, more communicative and more interactive collaborations develop this phantom dimension. It will examine how a collective identity, collective voice and collective consciousness develop through prolonged and intense communication. It will also explore the evolution of the collaborative relationships—how a group of individuals such as the participants involved in Nomadics, evolve a collective identity and ultimately produce a phantom author.
CHAPTER 4: