After what feels
like a long, hard slog, and a couple of teasers on here along the way – I’ve
finally completed the first of my sculptures under the ‘This S(c)eptic Isle’ banner.
It was always my intention that the project should be a multi-media
enterprise, but I couldn’t have predicted at the outset – just how
sculpture-heavy it would all become.
In the past, I
always regarded myself as a painter (or variety of), although I have also come
to recognise how important photography (and latterly - screen printing) have
also become within my overall practice.
Until now though, the third dimension appeared to have largely eluded
me. Actually, though, that’s all a
slight delusion. I’ve learned to accept
that, regardless of which medium I might employ, my root instinct is probably that
of the collagist. I have an urge to
construct, and my habitual process is an additive one, in which separate
elements are fitted together, layered, or even just piled up. Looking back, I realise how, periodically in
the past - wall-based pieces have made the transition from something
illusionistic – to something with materiality and physical heft. At various points, I’ve had a tendency
towards the collaging of physical or found materials – or to produce the kind
of relief-based pieces that I’ve often thought of 2 ½ -dimensional.
However, this is
the first time I’ve really tangled with fully three dimensional, free standing
pieces, and with all the 360 degree thinking, constructional issues and
submission to the laws of physics that implies.
True to form, none of my current efforts employ anything like the
classic sculptural techniques of carving, moulding, etc, (or even much in the
way of complex fabrication – truth to tell).
We’re definitely in the realm of salvaging, repurposing and juxtaposing
the detritus of the street here, with Robert Rauschenberg, et al being an
obvious referent (no surprise to any regular readers). I suppose there is also a pull-able thread
through Rauschenberg (and indeed, his compadre, Johns), back to the Duchampian Readymade, although my own impulse is to spruce-up and renovate my found items far
more than Duchamp ever did. My urge to
intervene, to shape, and to refine, remains pretty strong - it seems. Would it be too grand to even suggest a
yearning for some degree of alchemy here?
What does seem evident is that my found elements act as carriers of more
specific (and probably far shallower) potential meanings or interpretation than
the more abstruse philosophy seemingly attached to Duchamp’s.
Anyway, ‘Childish Things 1 (Misled)’ is the
first of my current abandoned toy pieces, all of which will combine discarded
or abandoned sit-on toys with cardboard boxes (there are other wholly box-based
pieces also currently in production). As
I’ve mentioned on more than one occasion, these are both key motifs within the
overall ‘TSI’ project, as well as
being plentiful and familiar components of the street trash strewn around my
own neighbourhood (and possibly yours too?).
And the possible
meanings of all this? Despite my
comments above, I do prefer to allow the viewer to find their own
interpretations. The work is also fresh
enough, and the current events to which it might relate – fluid enough for my
own thoughts about it to still be in some state of flux. Here, however, are a few leading
questions which may be of some use…
- Is it really possible to look at toys, without reading them as symbols of childhood? If that’s the case – what might their abandoned and damaged state suggest as we pick our way amongst so many wandering pavement orphans? What does it imply about our regard for our dependents, or indeed – for the future they must inherit? Has Youth really been abandoned or betrayed?
- Might the toys also signify arrested development, an infantilised populace, or a society whose assumptions and aspirations rarely elevate themselves beyond the juvenile?
- What do the rapidly fading colours, low-grade and U.V.- assaulted plastics, and shoddy manufacturing of such products, say about our consumerist priorities? Were they ever really fit for purpose if they break so easily? Could it be that built-in obsolescence is really a most appropriate condition - given the fleeting nature and novelty-fixation of youth?
- If ‘This ‘S(c)eptic Isle’, as an overall project, constitutes some form of highly subjective ‘State of the Nation’ survey - what insights into our current socio-political situation might be divined here? How important is it that both of these vehicles lack sufficient wheels to carry them forward? What impasse or hazard caused the blue scooter’s steering apparatus to bend so acutely? Is it significant that two vehicles so resolutely pointing in opposite directions have become so entangled in derelict immobility? Where, if anywhere, could they even go, if forward motion was possible? How deliberate is the choice of their colours? Do they simply reflect the components of our national rag – or are they emblematic of something more tribal?
- Is there any currency in the old hackneyed cliché of ‘Broken Britain’? Who, if anyone, thinks it is broken – and what do they gain from the proposal? If it is broken – who broke it? Was it a cynical act, or merely childish neglect?
- Are the legends ‘Bankers’ and ‘E-lite Style’, printed on these boxes, deliberately selected, or a mere chance conjunction? Do such things feed your appetite for political analysis or conspiracy theory – or do they strike you as merely trite? How vital is serendipity to the creative process anyway?
- If that all suggests more than a little disillusionment – maybe we could all do with a laugh. But where might that be found at a time when news events and perceived reality deliver more terrifying absurdity than any satirist or professional humourist could ever muster? Perhaps we can purchase or purloin our hollow giggles in capsule form. The silver bullets littering our gutters suggest that many now do
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