I started making lists of ideas about what objects I could wrap sellotape around that would have some link to the way in which I was using them. I thought about things associated with collecting the dust and dirt of an environment such as vacuum cleaners, brooms, mops, dustpans, brushes, feather dusters etc. I thought abut wrapping sellotape around the handle of a broom or metal nozzle of a hoover, and letting that dictate the size of the cells; I like the idea of the work having many levels and layers of meanings, each part of the process contributing its own connotations. I was thinking a lot about the Cornelia Parker while I was listing these ideas, how the objects she uses always have a great significance that relate back to the work, such as her 'Wedding Ring Drawing' which was drawn into the length of the average living room (there is also the play on the word 'draw' in the action and the outcome).
I also thought about how I could make some drawings out of the subtle things in the environment which I am aiming to collect on the sellotape. Combining my two lists, I decided I was going to make drawings from the bristles of a dustpan brush belonging to my house. I found this a really interesting idea because of how the brush has collected fragments of its environment on its surface over several years, even before we lived there. The brush is a product of the people who have lived in the house: changed by their use of it, covered with the remnants of their life, their actions/activities as well as their bodies, skin cells and hair. I like how each bristle is different, split, discoloured and weighted with dust to different extents. I began separating the brush into individual bristles and laying them out in rows to exaggerate this difference. Once again I was thinking about how this manner of working has scientific connotations in its process, the dissection and examination; the way in which attention is given to a mundane object also reminds me of Martin Creed's use of blu-tac, cardboard etc.
I decided to display the bristles in a line running the length of my studio space. For a future work it might be interesting to have them running the circumference of a room, in which the dust has been collected, a product of the environment that it marks.
This work led me to consider using household dust to make prints with sellotape; I like the idea of collecting prints from lichen, which show growth, and then the dust and flaking paint prints to show decay. It would be interesting to note whether there is much of a difference in the aesthetic of these two opposing states.
I have made some further drawings using household dust collected from our vacuum cleaner. I thought about the snail trails on the roof of the bike shed, which gave me my initial ideas about observing the subtleties of the environment. I copied these patterns, spreading glue in trails on paper and covering them in dust. I find the drawings interesting because of their significance, how dust is the remnants of an environment and of its inhabitants. I thought about Colin Renfrew's book 'Figuring It Out', where he described Richard Long's marks in the land as a legacy of his existence in that space, a sign saying 'I was here'; to me the snail trails communicate a similar thing, although an unintended intervention, they disclose a past presence, the relic of a life, just like the dust.
There is something a little repulsive about these, how when you look closely you can see hairs and bits of fluff and dirt which are normally discarded. The same applies for snail trails too, as they can be very beautiful but nevertheless are often viewed with disgust.
