30 - 31 May 2015
What happens when after months of making visual work you realise you can sing? What happens when your student debt walks in - a life-sized sculptural lump - demanding your space, or those polystyrene things you get in packaging appear in glass? What happens when you make your own batteries from coins or commandeer NASA equipment to send messages into space? When you flat pack your work: when you stack it, when you fold it, bend it and staple it to a wall? What happens when you realise that your medium is retrograde, repeating the same things over and over and over and over again? What happens when you need medication or at least time to curl into a small ball in the darkness? What happens when your life takes place in empty grey halls? And did you ever stop to think about international politics through the symbolic and actual trade of pandas? Do you see the world like a painting or does the painting see you? What happens when you paint on dust sheets instead of canvases? Make an allegory of death?
Why not start a band? Why not take a breath and compare the indentations in a wooden groove with the leaden line pressed into your skin? Get your plinths, your paper clips and your bolts laser cut? Take photographs of Dick Turpin? Take photographs without a camera? What happens when you make plants out of steel and show them videos of floating flora?
This is what happens in the intervening time.