I THREW A BALL FOR BAXTER BUT IT WAS ACTUALLY A GRENADE BUT HE CAUGHT IT SO GENTLY NO ONE HEARD

(2010)

In 2008 I made a rather dismal attempt at constructing a dissolving three-dimensional figure out of scraps of cut up board and paper.

The parts were sketched out roughly in charcoal, then cut at conflicting, awkward angles and drawn hastily together by a piece of thread. The thing clung to itself tenuously with the aid of a bit of tape, paper and glue, slapped on only as an afterthought. Finally the entire half-work was doused in coloured inks and left to disintegrate quietly in the corner of my studio.

For months she dangled awkwardly above my make-shift studio space. Barely-assembled, cross-legged with a single arm, handless and headless, she was to me a perfect expression of the intolerable and inevitably humorous process of trying. Not just trying to create, but trying to be. She held together on the brink of collapse, perched, paused between the second and third dimension, embracing the push towards an incomprehensible structure she was not yet ready to occupy. The increasing abstraction of form on account of her imminent collapse only endeared her to me all the more. 

Eventually and reluctantly her transitory frame disappeared. But her relentless presence has sought residence in every thing I touch to twist or slice.

This work is her wake, and an anti-monumental ode to her making.

Show More