Monday, 30 April 2012
Sunday, 29 April 2012
Submissions for a new show
Saturday, 28 April 2012
Friday, 27 April 2012
Always winter but never christmas
.....through the fur coats ,past the lampost, snow underfoot in the deep winter that has engulfed the Museum for Objects of Vertu. There will be tea and toast , presents and maybe some turkish delight.
Welcome all you sons of Adam and daughters of Eve.....
the view from Narnia |
step out from the wardrobe |
museum for objects of vertu Narnia 2008 |
mr.tumnus |
never christmas |
sons of Adam daughters of Eve |
a gift from the snow queen |
Thursday, 26 April 2012
Dust Jacket
The second exhibition at the museum was inspired by an old copy of 'The Voyage of the Beagle'
museum for objects of vertu 'dust jacket' 2008 |
.....it had no cover. The following artists provided one.....
audrey reynolds |
mathew robins |
piers jamson |
rachael matthews |
richard gray |
rosie cooper |
tim spooner |
Wednesday, 25 April 2012
Memento Hominem
The first exhibition at the museum was called 'Memento Hominem'. I have always been fascinated by the private collectors cabinets of the 17th century and in particular those that had personal objects, ones that only had meaning to the owner. The museum has been heavily influenced by these so I asked five artists to respond with their own 'living' artefacts........
mathew robbins 'barbra' 2008 |
raechel matthews 'a trip to the virgin islands' 2008 |
richard gray 'rosa' 1994 |
rosie cooper 'the forsaken woodland show' 2008 |
piers jamson 'untitled' 2008 |
fleur oakes 'stuff ' 208 |
Tuesday, 24 April 2012
Monday, 23 April 2012
The quiet living room
wallpaper, toffee tin, straw, fob watch case, china cupid, parrot feathers
The sound of a house occupied by an elderly woman is profound. It sits with you , gets up and follows you. You walk through it. Even the sound of a tv has little effect , its' reach extending only so far as the door , like the light from a fire. A radio has even less effect ;you can listen to a radio so quietly that you are only really hearing it in the back of your head.
You sit and remember the past , turning the pages of your memory and reading them. You become reluctant to move because the sound of the house is all. Sometimes you make a cup of tea or boil an egg. You have to close the kitchen door lest the sounds of boiling water or gentle chink of china disturb the house. You and your house are in a deep meditative state.
At dusk , the best time in the house , you can walk around. You can stretch and look at the things on the dressing table ;the glass trinket trays and faded powder boxes. Your bedroom is almost foreign territory now because you mostly live in the living room.
The sound of a house occupied by an elderly woman is profound. It sits with you , gets up and follows you. You walk through it. Even the sound of a tv has little effect , its' reach extending only so far as the door , like the light from a fire. A radio has even less effect ;you can listen to a radio so quietly that you are only really hearing it in the back of your head.
You sit and remember the past , turning the pages of your memory and reading them. You become reluctant to move because the sound of the house is all. Sometimes you make a cup of tea or boil an egg. You have to close the kitchen door lest the sounds of boiling water or gentle chink of china disturb the house. You and your house are in a deep meditative state.
At dusk , the best time in the house , you can walk around. You can stretch and look at the things on the dressing table ;the glass trinket trays and faded powder boxes. Your bedroom is almost foreign territory now because you mostly live in the living room.
Sunday, 22 April 2012
Saturday, 21 April 2012
The loss of everything
Friday, 20 April 2012
Tea for Two
Thursday, 19 April 2012
Wednesday, 18 April 2012
Tuesday, 17 April 2012
Monday, 16 April 2012
krokeboke
Sunday, 15 April 2012
Saturday, 14 April 2012
little
Friday, 13 April 2012
Museum interior
Thursday, 12 April 2012
In Waiting
1930's leather travel case , knife ,fork, gas bill.
20x30cm.
2006
Can we ever be alone?
Not now it seems, not if you want to live like everyone else does.We all seem to want the same things , a herding instinct maybe.
Even if you eschew a life lived through tv and branded goods you still need the basics.Even if you cook from scratch and don't get caught in a consumer loop.
You still have to leave the house,pay utilities,sign your name.There are photos of you, videos even, people know you, talk about you, remember you.
It could be said that until no-one remembers you any more you have a certain immortality.And if you write your name on your pictures who knows how far into the future you could be known.
But what of your ancestors.A lot of people have photos of great grandparents , the legacy of Victorian technology, but not many.
We know nothing of our forebears.There is a genetic history and we are the living record of the past.It has been proven that certain bloodlines are carried with unusual surnames. People in one country somehow related to the most unlikely people in another.We generally know nothing of the lives of those who gave us life though we all share 20% of the same genes.
If you are the last in your family, what then ?
What if you were the only child of only children; no cousins , nieces ,nephews. What if you had lived alone in the house you born in and as you grew older your family died, friends married, moved away, died. No-one knows you, the only photos of you are in your own albums;smiling from the past, a ghost in your own life.
How many lives have passed like this ? Is it so terrible ? You are rare, in fact you have something many desire...privacy.
Can we ever be alone?
Not now it seems, not if you want to live like everyone else does.We all seem to want the same things , a herding instinct maybe.
Even if you eschew a life lived through tv and branded goods you still need the basics.Even if you cook from scratch and don't get caught in a consumer loop.
You still have to leave the house,pay utilities,sign your name.There are photos of you, videos even, people know you, talk about you, remember you.
It could be said that until no-one remembers you any more you have a certain immortality.And if you write your name on your pictures who knows how far into the future you could be known.
But what of your ancestors.A lot of people have photos of great grandparents , the legacy of Victorian technology, but not many.
We know nothing of our forebears.There is a genetic history and we are the living record of the past.It has been proven that certain bloodlines are carried with unusual surnames. People in one country somehow related to the most unlikely people in another.We generally know nothing of the lives of those who gave us life though we all share 20% of the same genes.
If you are the last in your family, what then ?
What if you were the only child of only children; no cousins , nieces ,nephews. What if you had lived alone in the house you born in and as you grew older your family died, friends married, moved away, died. No-one knows you, the only photos of you are in your own albums;smiling from the past, a ghost in your own life.
How many lives have passed like this ? Is it so terrible ? You are rare, in fact you have something many desire...privacy.
Wednesday, 11 April 2012
Forget About Me
broken glass jar, rose stems, 1920's wedding photo , 1930's photo album, photograph of old lady, fragment of cine film of unknown woman, dead dragonfly,
20x35cm.
2007
An old lady lives in a decaying house. She has lived there since she was little. It is an entire universe of one person's existence. When her parents died the house passed to her ; the solicitor , now dead ,gave her all the appropriate documents and she went back home. There was no wake, no-one to ask after her. She just went home. Her house now.
There is gas and water but no electricity. She never had it installed ,or rather her parents didn't. Except they weren't her parents. They took her in. A young girl with no past and they had no children and they left her the house. No-one knows that now.
An old lady lives in a decaying house. She has lived there since she was little. It is an entire universe of one person's existence. When her parents died the house passed to her ; the solicitor , now dead ,gave her all the appropriate documents and she went back home. There was no wake, no-one to ask after her. She just went home. Her house now.
There is gas and water but no electricity. She never had it installed ,or rather her parents didn't. Except they weren't her parents. They took her in. A young girl with no past and they had no children and they left her the house. No-one knows that now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)