I thought I wouldn’t need to post anything this week… but who knows what you might hear or see that you simply can’t resist writing about.
“No Knowing” is a topic that feels complicated and confusing to me unless I break it down for myself. There are things I have experienced and felt, but there are also moments that make me stop and think: hang on, I need to understand this more, at least for myself! Because it’s also difficult to know whether you are right or wrong.
Rebecca Fortnum spoke about the unknown and the idea of “not knowing” within artistic practice, about allowing “the other” to become part of the process that helps you understand what you don’t yet know in your work. She mentioned an artist who brought oak trees to Tate, explaining how they didn’t choose where to place them and wished they could move them around and experiment more, but practicality meant the trees had to remain where they were installed. I missed the artist’s name, so I need to watch the recording again and read On Not Knowing: How Artists Think by Elizabeth Fisher and Rebecca Fortnum.
But if she was referring to Ackroyd & Harvey’s installation of 100 oak trees outside Tate Modern, celebrating Joseph Beuys, then the context becomes important. Entitled Beuys’ Acorns, the project began in 2007 and marked 100 years since the birth of Joseph Beuys. The work was inspired by Beuys’ 7000 Oaks. Knowing this information changes things for me. It becomes clear that the artists and organisers did, in fact, know what they wanted. There was intention, research, and historical context behind the project.
Another interesting example mentioned in the session was Bruce Nauman’s Fat Chance John Cage. For me, this work represents a healthier interpretation of “not knowing” and of relying on chance. an acceptance of imperfect and limited knowledge without necessarily becoming vulnerable or directionless. Even the inclusion of “John Cage” in the title, much like Beuys’ Acorns, offers information and context. It shows where the artist is coming from. There is still knowledge present.
So what happens when I do not know? And when I interact with someone else who also does not know what I really want or need? Sometimes that uncertainty can create chances, accidents, and unexpected discoveries, some beautiful, some uncomfortable. But completely removing knowledge can place artists in vulnerable situations.
If I’m playing with chance through repetition, as seen in Rebecca Fortnum’s drawings of children with closed eyes or the unknown death mask, then I understand that as an openness to what technical or practical processes might allow to happen. But there is still an underlying knowledge of intention. For example, if I decide to draw faces, I already know what I want to engage with. Through chance, I might then discover something beautiful or unexpected that leads me towards new research and new knowledge. To me, this feels like another healthy form of “not knowing”.
So what worries me is when “not knowing” becomes a comfort zone, something that leaves me vulnerable to gaslighting, manipulation, or losing my sense of direction altogether. It was difficult to express this during the session because I worried it could be misunderstood. But one of the great things about this course is that we have a blog for documentation and reflection.












