I feel like I need to laugh, I am worrying too much. I have noticed in this period of evaluation that humour, in its many guises, seems to rise up consistently within my work. It is surprising in a way, as I do not consciously intend to create a joke for comic effect. Pink lawnmowers, re-circulatory vacuum cleaners, wax ironing boards … all these works have serious intentions as comments on commodity and their labelled functions’ (both in physical and cultural relationships) but are also clearly pieces of comedy.
I feel wary of the content and importance of humour in my work. The feeling of making a joke that nobody laughs at, of dying on stage, could keep me awake at night ! But at the opposite end of the spectrum it can be powerful.
“Humour and art share much in common in enabling access to a world of freedom and intuition.”
(Felicity Lunn & Heike Munder, When Humour Becomes Painful, exhibition catalogue for Migros Museum, Zurich)
So why not take the risk ? For the viewer, smiling at work can still feel sacrilegious. The context often prescribes this seriousness, namely the gallery, with is formality and tradition which seems to frown upon you. Yet what is there to do except smile when presented with a urinal as art ? It is a playful artist asking you to join in, to return to childhood where one can be more susceptible to the serious notions that often run parallel. Attitudes are changing within the gallery context and towards avant-garde art. This was perfectly summed up by the final part of Tino Sehgal's trilogy of shows at the ICA earlier in the year. Being put into a space with children playing and being encouraged to join in their games feels awkward at first but overcome this and the interaction was truly fulfilling and refreshing. What is so wrong with being a child once in a while ?
