April 4, 7:45 a.m., fog enfolds my building, the voice of Martin Luther King, Jr. the night before his assassination fifty years ago is on the radio in the room.

space pen copy

NIGHTWRITERS by Constance DeJong, a Triple Canopy digital project published March 10, 2018.
With thanks to Emmy Catedral for sharing her research
and investigations over a long period of consultations.


An insomniac traces the night through her skylight. Falling leaves turn to snow, a pen becomes the agent for astronomers Annie Jump Cannon and Caroline Herschel to visit across time and inscribe their accomplishments on the present moment.

“Through sleepless weeks with my sky companions, every night we passed the time. Midnight one o’clock two in the morning in bed a far distance from the delta waves of sleep of dreams, whatever the acclaimed balm of those frequencies, insomnia maps inward for the sleepless passenger-navigator-skipper, one person wandering the course of night.”

 May 16 Nightwriters live event at Triple Canopy, 246 Canal Street, 3W, NYC

“Nightwriters” is part of Active Recollections, a series in which artists, writers, and researchers trace histories that are obscured, partially erased, or seemingly unassimilable.


The digital project of Nightwriters germinated from my long held interest in composing screen space and meaningfully incorporating navigation…so different from composing for the printed page and page turning.

Some issues, at once broad and specific, which mattered to me became shared interests with which a team working on the project engaged, including: to produce text as an integration of language and images; to explore relationships of images and language sharing the same space, less rigidly demarcated  relationships than words in one zone/pictures in a separate zone of the page or screen; to investigate text composition without the grip of other conventions that identify and then isolate certain categories of material from a notion of the main text body,  as in the Note and the footnote. And, again, to approach text as a polyphony, as distinct from how text (in print or digital form) is inclined to privilege language, employing persistent standards that assign pictures and words and related materials to separate hierarchical realms.

How to utilize the swipe navigation of Triple Canopy’s digital platform…

I was keen to use the swipe for merging on screen the variety of materials that inform Nightwriters – historical documents, fiction text, graphs, asterisms, scientific images and images from other areas of research, including my drawings. I favored and Triple Canopy fabricated a layering that builds with each swipe and conjures multiple interactions and collaborations of picture-word-document. A narrative of image and language, of fiction and nonfiction conjoined.

And rhythm. The sequence of screens is composed in a varying rhythm as one swipes/moves through a meshing of disparate yet related materials. Very special thanks go to programmer, Triple Canopy Production Associate, Camila Mercado. Mercado became a ghost nightwriter of Nightwriters digital iteration, an accomplished and true participant in the project.

Thank you, Triple Canopy Director, Peter Russo for supporting the digital project of Nightwriters and for initiating our work in our first meeting in the kitchen on Henry Street. And for masterfully shepherding the project beginning to end, thank you Triple Canopy editors and project team members Lucy Ives and Molly Kleiman and Emily Wang.

Working with Triple Canopy was an occasion and an opportunity to investigate composing a form-specific text, an area of interest I’ve revisited over decades in print forms—books and article-essays—and twice now in digital forms; the 2018 Triple Canopy Nightwriters digital project and Fantastic Prayers, a Dia Center for the Arts project for web, 1995, and CD Rom 2000, made in collaboration with Stephen Vitiello and Tony Oursler. http://awp.diaart.org/fpcd/index.html

From here follows some thoughts to do with print forms. Notes written on the occasion of participating in a 2017 College Art Association panel on the subject: Why Print.

I am considering our subject, Why Print, from the start point of what print.

We say, I am writing a book. Yet our writing process is nearly always partitioned from our work’s eventual life in print. Said another way: our writing is a process disassociated from considerations of writing being a print form. A book.

It’s a curious contemporary habit that as writers—of scholarly or nonfiction or fiction books—we compose text as if language and thought, from the outset of their production, are subject to and adhere to rules of print and of style, accepted formats and print conventions. As if producing language and thought in writing is a process unto itself. The form is not considered.

Leaving un-investigated the form which we are producing means accepting without question institutionalized ideas and conventions that long ago determined  what is print, what is book, what is the material production of thought and ideas.  

If the printed page is only and always a post-writing enterprise given over to the publishing industry, then both author and publisher collaborate to treat the newly written text with its contemporary ideas and perspective as an artifact of an aging set of standards.

As writers, we accept entrenched conventions of print publishing without the interrogation, investigation and thoughtfulness we give to the writing of our book. In effect we accept, we embrace an archetype, a strict definition of being a writer, of what a writer does and does not do.

I realize the book as a print form, the investigation of its material, conceptual and structural aspects, has been assigned to artists, to a category of book, the artist’s book…wherein the chemistry of form and content, an enquiry of form and content is in play from start to finish of the book.

But the title and subject of our panel today—Why Print—initiates thoughts of why print is ignored by writers of books, why our work’s eventual form is exiled from the writing process, from how language and ideas are composed, organized, conveyed onto and as the page.

The division of writing and material form-making says, this is how things are done; things being established divisions of author and manufacturer, writing and print form, language and pages. I wonder about the effect of accepting that decision, its effect on how we may think, how we may read, may compose, may contribute to the world of ideas.  

In the interest of clarity: I’m not talking of writers taking on design trends of the publishing industry … bells and whistles and design for the sake of appearance only.

Our familiarity with and engagement in associative thinking and intersectionality, for example, might induce us to investigate our habits of written language and language in print — an investigation that might rescue thought from being reformatted automatically into the hierarchies and formats, layouts and taxonomies of industry and style guide standards.

April 2, 2018…and it’s snowing hard at 8:55 a.m. And it’s 8 days since presenting Relatives at The Kitchen.


Make a live work that depends on technology and the dreaded tech failure may happen…as did happen on Saturday, March 24, the second night of presenting Relatives at The Kitchen.

One Saturday viewer responded: “…I wanted to express to you that what may have seemed like a huge technical hiccup, (the TV shorting out), for me made the performance richer and more in dialogue with an added layer of meaning.” And, the gist from numerous viewers in the audience was the performance and/or language did battle with technology.

In 1988, Tony Oursler and I did not approach Relatives as a battle: narrative vs technology/technology vs narrative.

We imagined a duet of the electronic and oral…a collaboration of the two that might conjure a third presence, a space of narrative interaction between the time-based elements video and spoken language, pictures and words. On stage. In real time. A live performance work.

Any battle, so to speak, was between me and my non-sentient co-actor. My own crusade in every performance of Relatives is to be in synch with my counterpart at every moment…to be thirty minutes into the piece precisely on cue, words and video interacting. I rather liked the call to exact the interactions with the flow and seemingly easy rhythms of performing.

Stress. I had some in the approach to our Friday and Saturday presentations at the Kitchen. While I could relearn the piece, I could not fathom an objective perspective on the relevance or worthiness of Relatives, unvisited in thirty years. Maybe it was a dated work, maybe in front of an audience Relatives would fall flat…the juvenilia of two artists collaborating for the first time. Definitely stressful, I think I lost some of my hair.

Technical glitches. That possibility is ever looming large, so large one acknowledges the possibility in a suppressed kind of way as rehearsals continue, as one walks on stage. 21:55 minutes in, the looming becomes real for the first time ever. It’s the second night of Relatives and my co-actor’s body, the monitor begins to die.

At first horrifying, the technical disaster becomes about facing it down in real time — a terrifyingly thrilling performance challenge. Don’t’ need to repeat that event. Though, here we go again…our Relatives’ revisit is drawing Tony and me into the pictures-words, technology-oral language, screen-person collaborative duet anew. Ah, folly, the foolhardy cannot resist.




IMPONDERABLE, a film by Tony Oursler @MoMA

www.moma.org/calendar/exhibitions: Imponderable is an immersive feature-length film inspired by Oursler’s own archive of ephemera relating to stage magic, spirit photography, pseudoscience, telekinesis, and other manifestations of the paranormal. Drawing on these objects, Imponderable weaves together a social, spiritual, and empirical history of the virtual image that overlaps with the artist’s own family history.

…and those histories together with related belief systems are episodically navigated in the film’s environment of five dimensions, among them, 3D space.

A popular stage illusion of the late 1800s, Pepper’s Ghost, is re-visioned as a film effect: 3D space visible to the unaided eye, materialized with present day technology and imagination.

Stylized performances eclipse a familiar approach to acting invoked and favored in many many films wherein actors impersonate human behavior, frequently called “realism.”

CDJ as Madam X

CDJ as Madam X

Imponderable abounds with artifice: A 2015-16 chapter in the artful stratagems that have inhabited such works as – L7L5 a 1984 immersive installation; The Influence Machine a 2011 an outdoor installation sited in public parks—two works from Oursler’s investigations at the borderland of fiction-nonfiction, science-bunk, latest technology-cardboard & paint, and, perhaps more important, from his enduring many decade investigation of the moving image at the illusion/actual/virtual border.

The interplay between fraudulent psychics, debunking magicians, and surrealistic seances forms the core of Oursler’s phantasmagorical cinematic experience, which delves into an unlikely interplay between empiricism and the mystical. (From liner notes to the film’s soundtrack CD)

Imponderable’s abundant and considered artifice is the viewer’s expanded realms of involvement/the film’s reach into five dimensions manifest in settings, imagery, in Jim Fletcher at film’s end performing a modern Prometheus via Mary Shelley’s book, via earlier films, via an improbable emotive Oursler song…ah yes, Dr. Frankenstein’s creation, but this serenading evocative version of the creature delivers a deep-register conclusion to the episodic excursion that is Imponderable.


Jim Fletcher as Frankenstein’s creation


2015 in advance of the film’s production and book’s release*, Tony Oursler and CDJ in conversation on related subjects and content:

TO: Let’s start right off with Kate Fox.

CDJ: It’s 1848. One night, a twelve-year-old girl and a fourteen-year-old girl, Kate Fox and her sister Margaret, hear strange rappings in their bedroom. There’s immediately a rapid escalation in their notoriety, first within their little upstate New York village, then in Albany, and then throughout the United States. How does that happen?  I can’t crack the mystery surrounding those two girls having that first rapping moment.

TO: Why?

CDJ: They were isolated people in a small village. How did it occur to two children to say they heard rappings? And to identify the sounds, almost immediately, as coming from the dead? And the next night, or very shortly thereafter, they invited neighbors to witness the spirit rappings. We can understand their eventual notoriety because of the older sister, Leah; she became their producer-manager and toured them.

TO: To me that moment exists in the larger context of the implementation of the telegraph between New York and Boston, which happened the same year. The Fox sisters’ rappings from the dead were a naive folk interpretation of a technological advancement. My feeling is that there was a sort of rupture of perception. Up to that point there had always been something about the experience of time, and that changed when information could be transmitted over a great distance instantaneously. That changed our perception of everything: perspective, time, distance, travel. It was the beginning of modernity; all events are collapsed into one space.

CDJ: Yes…the parallel grown of telegraphy and the growth of the spiritual telegraph. But I don’t know if the Fox sisters would actually have known about the telegraph, that Morse had sent the first message.

TO: What do you think about the two girls as performers, as agents of creativity? They were flattening notions of patriarchy; that was an important thing.

CDJ: Yes, the prevailing notion was of women as passive vessels; they receive, they don’t produce. Spiritualism was part of what changed that notion of women, at the same time as the suffragettes were meeting in Seneca Falls and at the time of organized abolitionism. There were well-known women abolitionists. There was an accumulating voice of women, and then here are the Fox sisters, who may have been a kind of fraud, but who were in the progressive midst of suffragettes and abolitionists in upstate NY.

I think for some of the suffragettes it was complex. While in principal they may have supported that the Fox sisters were traveling of their own initiative and that they were public figures commanding audiences. But, ideologically, contact with the dead didn’t factor into the suffragettes’ agenda; I think they rejected the premise, they knew it was a piece of entertainment.

TO: Well, some did and some didn’t.

CDJ: Then you fold in the Civil War memory, the impact of so many deaths. There’s a congruence of otherwise separate agendas, from abolitionists to the suffragettes to the spiritualists.

TO: The idea that a woman could receive transmissions from the other side and take that position of authority away from the cleric is what always interested me. There was a confluence of all those factors you’ve mentioned that made it just the perfect time for that to happen.

CDJ: Yes, that was one of the disruptions: here comes the voice of women speaking about something theological, the afterlife. And from a scientific perspective, scientists, mostly male, went insane. They were not having it. They were going to die proving that what the Fox sisters were doing was not scientifically possible.

TO: Now looking back, a lot of people talk about Spiritualism as though it was Christianity or it was Mormonism or Quakerism. But it’s a little sad that “spiritualism” became a catch-all name for a whole variety of mystical activities that fell outside main religious traditions, including magnetism, astrology, or any sort of cult, activities that involved anything that was basically out of the main religious traditions.

CDJ: I always think about the manifestation of invisible things. We can’t see magnetic fields, for example, but—through some agent—magnetism is made material, as are other invisible phenomena that come through human agency and become part of our realm.

TO: That goes back to Imponderable, which is the title of this exhibition and book. The material dates from Isaac Newton to today, and shows many ways that people have tried to define the outer edge of science. The invisible is revealed in science with the X-ray, infrared photography. And then there’s gravity…

CDJ: Force fields, magnetic fields, and electricity were used analogously all the time…

TO: …for life force. There still is no way to really define what a life force is, you know.

CDJ: Our present-day life force conversation involves fetal tissue and stem cells. I always imagined it was Leah Fox who devised and brought onto the stage the manifestations enacted by her sisters—spirit writing and mirror writing. Leah was never a believer. She was a producer of the act and manager of the touring show, the money, her sisters. Mirror writing on stage was a way of mystifying a written message received from the dead. Spirit writing couldn’t just be plain writing, easy to read.

TO: It had to be interpreted.

CDJ: And Kate was the one to do that. She had the gift. On stage she received written messages from Benjamin Franklin—very subject-appropriate if we’re talking about electric force fields and magnetism. The Fox sisters started with rappings—a very concrete, audible way to manifest the invisible dead on stage. Leah kept modifying the act.

TO: That’s interesting because one of the parts of this project is the interplay between stage magic and real magic, and how that keeps happening, the drift back and forth. The Fox sisters went from real magic or real mysticism to stage entertainment. In the end, I see all these mediums as performers.

CDJ: And Kate is somewhat iconic—a teenage celebrity who’s out traveling the country. Wild fans are waiting on the train platform in ecstasy because here comes Kate. It’s prescient of our contemporary youth celebrity craze. And for her entirety, she lived a very out of the mainstream life. Through the pressures put upon her, Kate Fox became something of a drunk. That’s always appropriate behavior for a celebrity…

TO: It’s an occupational hazard for artists.

CDJ: But where I’m going is that Kate Fox entered a second chapter of manipulation and celebrity when she went to a clinic, for detoxing. Through the strange, perhaps bogus, exercise of spiritualism, Kate ended up in the strange, perhaps bogus, environment of electric light and water therapies at a place called the Swedish Clinic in New York City. And the people who ran the clinic become so taken with her ability to contact the dead that they exploited their patient. They had Kate conduct a séance every night.

TO: She was a celebrity.

CDJ: Parlor séances had spread coast-to-coast, as a family activity. What does that say about belief systems? Was it an after-dinner game? Was it a real expression of people trying to reach “beyond” in a spiritual way?

TO: It’s people trying to reach beyond the banality of everyday life. They try to jump a level: “Okay, here we are. I’ve been out on the farm or down at the office or cooking, and now we’re going to jump to another zone. We’re going to have a mystical event, and we’re in control.” They could get mysticism at church, but only in a processed and very restricted way.

CDJ: Yes, the agency of it being right there in your parlor, and not passively received.

TO: The lineage between occult activity and the origins of talk therapy is pretty interesting. People were spirit writing and trance speaking not long before the notion of the unconscious was developed. In the case of Carl Jung, he was channeling different characters in the same way trance mediums did; he was directing the unconscious to unlock people’s suppressed inner personalities.

CDJ: I haven’t ever thought of that or come across it.

TO: I’ve thought a lot about it, especially the connection between William James and the automatic writing of the Surrealists.

CDJ: Yes, Surrealism isn’t far removed from that time period.

TO: It overlaps, and it’s well known that some Surrealists were looking at mediums. But how does that connect to the spirit writing?

CDJ: I think in some ways spirit writing is just very crude and obvious. The identity of a person is in their words and in their script, their handwriting; so spirit writing is a very concise consolidation of a being.

TO: I love that. But spirit writing is often so incredibly banal.

CDJ: It’s an interesting ploy. Instead of saying something spectacularly profound or suggesting that once you’re dead you know the secrets of the universe, spirit writing simply transmits that the dead are having a good time, they’re surrounded with flowers.

TO: It’s palliative. People think of death as so traumatic.

CDJ: I think the spirit writing messages are normalizing.

TO: That’s really funny.

CDJ: They’re just like us, and going there is just the same…

TO: …and it’s just as boring as it is here. Although…

CDJ: “…our clothes are woven from light and we live in beautiful houses that we just have to think of and we can make them appear.” That’s a published spiritwriting message. Seems the point is…you don’t have to work.

TO: Earthlings re-writing Heaven. So you’ve got …

CDJ: Nice houses, really cool clothes that kind of glow.

TO: Any kind of food you might need at any second.

CDJ: Doesn’t seem to be a lot of petty conflict, that’s all over.


Nearly November…

OCTOBER 31: 10:45 PM, 44 degrees F, clear, Mars and Neptune visible.     nw-desktop-1


Images and text excerpts from NightWriters, a project in progress:


My sleep, always so lively with visits from former boyfriends and formerly living people, my sleep became hour on hour restless and fretful September 21st and the 22nd, the 23rd.

September 24 Whoever you are, DIY carpenter from the past, I call you genius for installing a skylight in the bedroom. That aperture right over my bed, it’s an antidote to insomnia’s dread and anxiety, delivering Saturn and a bit of moon and a star assembly I never took in until now.

(September 26-October 3 dates missing in this excerpt)

October 4 Tonight is all about moving a pen across sheets of translucent paper, making my way around the sky, connecting stars that have become my familiars. People have always done this, drawn random distributions of stars into recognizable figures and shapes – swans and bears and utensils and mythical men. Asterisms they’re called.


October like one long night, two satisfying weeks piloting between the brightest members of my outer space with my pen aimed skyward. My pen is a product of space travel, resisting gravity, the ink flows upward onto paper over my head. A needle inside me plus the axis of the earth plus the pen point make a hybrid instrument, part protractor part compass – a conspiracy of inner and outer magnetics plotting triangles and circles and polygons. Not one animal or mythical person makes an appearance. Order, my sky hosts a notion of order projected onto a flat black plane, also an illusion…


October 26 A 3 a.m. moaning wind blows the skylight clear of leaves and I wonder if twenty-two nights of insomnia-induced concentration, if my singular focus is a dense locatable spot in the extended territory of matter. I wonder because around 4:30 while drawing tonight’s asterism, my pen moving across paper writes of its own accord: Oh Be A Fine Girl Kiss Me.


A tight beginning loop that is small: that is watchfulness speaking. And a lightening fast mind is indicated in needle pointed strokes. Under analysis, subjected to the principles of graphology, the handwriting reveals its author has a keen memory and tremendous patience, a driven and self-reliant person. Indeed, that is how she is remembered, Annie Jump Cannon, astronomer at Harvard’s Observatory, sitting at her viewing station 1896 to 1939 classifying three hundred stars an hour, the numbers accumulating to more stellar bodies than any other person classified. All day at your viewing stations you are scrutinizing glass photographic plates, images of nightskies at the reach of 1920s telescopes and cameras. At some moment, you realize the entire star multitude is composed of seven factors, seven spectral classes of stars summoned in the mnemonic: Oh Be A Fine Girl Kiss Me.


O  B  A  F  G  K  M

…..insomnia continues through November, December….


Spiritwriting Drawings…2015/16