This work came from an idea I began developing at the end of first year, when I dissected the bristles of a dustpan brush belonging to my student house. The brush was really old and looked like it had been used many years before we started living there, so to me it was a tangible connection to the history of the space. I had wanted to make a proper work out of this idea, and thought it might work well at the Poly as it is an historic building with an interesting and mysterious past. Using a dustpan brush to convey this seemed like a thought provoking and unconventional way to comment on the space and make people think about dust and cleaning in a different way. Lining the bristles up on perspex sheets to be displayed in the windows was a quick and intuitive decision, that I thought would be subtle and minimal as well as practical.
Although I have reflected on the positive aspects of making a work quickly without much experimentation (in my Time/Piece and Dust from a Doctor's Waiting Room posts) there were a few errors and glitches that were a result of not giving myself enough time to produce the piece and not gaining a familiarity with the materials. For example, I had never worked with perspex before and made the mistake of using fixative to secure the bristles, which distorted the clarity of the plastic and made it murky. When I installed the two Perspex sheets in front of the windows I also discovered that they were slightly different colours (oh, Trago...) - I might have swapped them had I had more time to prepare.
Taking the brush apart and lying out the bristles was like an archaeological or forensic process, where they could be studied and their differences noted. It also took about three days solidly working to complete, allowing me the repetitive, meditative task that I had been missing all term. Physically making and putting effort into the work was more satisfying than presenting the found objects in my other exhibition piece, although I was happy with both.
As with 'Time/Piece' it was vital that the title and materials be displayed alongside the work where the viewer would definitely read it. Whilst I were setting up a lot of people mistook the bristles for scratches on the surface of the Perspex, which of course is not the artwork at all. The title and list of materials would remedy this and invite people to look closer and see for themselves. I suppose another way of doing this would have been to exhibit the bald brush along with the bristles and allow people to make the connection for themselves - a substitute for a title.
One last reflection is on the way I chose to display the bristles with such subtlety that the entire piece could have been completely overlooked. Indeed, I had several comments from people that they "almost didn't see" the work and that it was only the title that made them look up and notice it. Far from offended by this, I think it is very fitting with my intended themes and ideas that some people should walk past and others, who are perhaps more observant and open to their environment, should be rewarded. This reminds me to some extent of the attitude of Susan Collis' artworks, which could be very easily missed. Although on the other hand, Collis' everyday objects impregnated with precious materials, are displayed in galleries, where the mundane is approached with suspicion and interrogation. In a building like the Poly, I think very subtle artworks involving everyday objects could be easily ignored altogether.
No comments:
Post a Comment