It’s good to know which way the wind is blowing. A shift in direction is a sign: a prompt to tie down, to bring things in, to leave. It’s an indicator of what’s on the way.
This dysfunctional weathervane is deprived of purpose. No matter what blows around it, its core is paralysed. Here is a device so weighed down by future possibilities and fears – if, when, what – that it forecasts nothing, and leaves us exposed to the come what may. A pile of inherited, deteriorating metal fasteners – screws, nails, bolts – exerts on it a physical and psychological magnetism that fixes its position and threatens the integrity of the structure.
The resulting stasis points to an unforeseen by-product of our attempts to preserve and secure what we can through ‘contingencies’; sometimes, we hold onto accumulated objects and positions so long that their material and psychological magnetism becomes toxic. The tension inherent in latent possibilities and potential re-uses (which might never be required) tugs at and begins to unravel threads.This is also, though, a tribute to resourcefulness, and the circular satisfaction of finding fresh utility for the obsolete and the salvaged. The satisfaction of just the right thing to fix some gap or lack, or make something new with. To hold on. To let go. You never know.
salvaged hardware fastenings, bamboo sticks, string, thread, drawer; paint, wire
(Many Studios, Glasgow, 2024)
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