In the Kaleidoscope gallery in Sevenoaks, the audio work which is part of ‘Beta 2.0’ was not functioning. On the wall a rectangular wooden panel about 4in x 5, from which exited a cable to a set of headphones. Problem soon solved by a librarian, and I set to, to listen to the work, ‘Lighthouse Relay’. As sometimes happens, via the corner of my eye, a distraction intervened. A small picture hook and below it to its right, a small piece of blu-tack. They had been the support for a wooden panel which held the audio player. Unintended art, unintentionally exposed by the librarian. Like plants and small creatures that find their places in cracks and crevices, or force their way to the light seemingly against the odds, the hook and blu-tack objects made something of themselves. On the one hand the hardness of the hook, pinned uncompromisingly to the wall and on the other, the blu-tack clinging apprehensively below. And the distance between. There was sadness in that distance, and their waiting, their smallness on the wall. The hook in its maleness seemed to be keeping up a pretence, the blu-tack in its apparent softness and vulnerability female but without overt femininity. This art was embarrassed to find itself in such exalted company. It seemed like Masaccio’s Adam and Eve to want to cover itself as it was exposed to the view of artworks many thousands of times its size. And yet it seemed to have much in common with the intended art, in that it seemed to have intention within it. And in its vulnerability it craved the relief of recognition. Having listened to the audiowork I replaced the wooden panel and the tension lifted.
