The last couple of weeks in particular at work, that is my paid work / employment, have led me think a lot about the artwork that I make and just how difficult it would be for anyone – individual, company, authority, or institution – to own a piece. Currently my artworks demand the kind of commitment that is very off putting. They are things that are carefully balanced … I mean literally rather than metaphorically, things that are prone to collect dust and or fade, things require my (or a technician’s) presence for installation / hanging. Not things that are easy to move from place to place, nor things that perhaps will endure exhibition for more than a few months, nor handling by a public or employees, nor a simple wiping down with a lint-free cloth to keep them looking fresh.
This raises some really interesting questions for me … many are not new but they have acquired a certain poignancy and urgency as I note the discussions regarding the maintenance (or lack of it) of artworks’ material qualities. I have mentioned before my long-standing ambition of being an artist with works stored in proper crates … what I thought was a bit of daydream might be something deeper. How do I care for my work? If something is going to be packed away for a year or more between exhibitions what needs to done to make sure that it is doesn’t get at best damaged and at worst destroyed while it is back at the studio?
The very least that I want to investigate are some ’entry level’ archival cartons for the textile works. Not just investigate but actually invest in them too! I have a feeling that this will then require deeper shelves to accommodate the broader flatter boxes. Rearranging the various archives at work is inspiring me to rearrange things at the studio … to take stock of what I have – both finished pieces and raw materials, as well as tools and equipment, and to see if I can make things better here too.
The question of what I actually make and how it is presented needs also to be addressed if I want to be more widely exhibited and or bought – both of which I have absolutely no objection to.
Returning from my mini residency / open studio / days at the artists’ club, and in preparation for the mini residency at Köttinspektionen I have tidied away the ties that were hanging on the studio wall as well as two artworks that were hanging above them. It makes such a difference having clear walls … it feels as though there is space to breath and to make. I must remember to give time to putting things away and to restoring order after exhibitions, events, and projects. This is certainly where more order in the storage portion of the studio would be an advantage – and one that I can make happen. I also need to remember to label the boxes so that I can easily identify where things are when I need them again … and / or periodically check that it’s still relevant to have a box full of whatever it is that I haven’t touched in six months or a year.
I used the mini residency at the artist club to begin unfolding the contemporary context of Verdandi’s 1907 Spring Exhibition – who were the committee members at that time, what was happening in society, what was happening in Uppsala, and what were the connections between these things. There were / are connections … some strong … some tangential … some of my own creating(?), some maybe not recognised at the time. Now I want to concentrate on materiality for the Köttinspektionen residency. So was a go around the studio I start to identify things to take with me. These include as yet unused materials – I can’t say new materials because the pile of pillowcases that I have in mind are not new in themselves though they are relatively new to me, and have not yet been a part of an installation or project, I think that I want ot take some ’used’ materials too – things that have been used in other installations and projects, for example Mr Dandy Blue’s suit, hat and shoes, the blue camouflage net from M: meeting place, and the plastic green-house from Hot Housing.
There is both a comfort and a concern in taking used materials. The comfort is that they are already a part of my vocabulary. The concern is that belong to already executed projects. There feels to be an equal measure of comfort and concern in the material’s familiarity. That familiarity might be a meaningful starting point … a point of departure for a new journey …I don’t have to start from noll … if I know where I am leaving from then it be easier to know when I moving on – even if I don’t know when of where I will arrive … departures and arrivals!
I do enjoy being at the studio over the summer. There are very few of us here and it makes it feel somehow even more special. Those of us who are here get on well and enjoy each other’s company over lunch or chatting in each others’ doorways. There is definitely something intimate about being just three or four in this sprawling building. There is also an uncommon calmness to it all.
