Monthly Archives: October 2013

Perfectly Useless – The Uselesquare

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There is an age old debate raging over the usefulness of art in society.  It is one of those timeless and endless questions.

Some people propose that art is absolutely integral to a community and that a society without art quickly grows stagnant. There are a great many practitioners who have proved the importance of art in the fields of politics, religion and human expression. Others however, believe that art is completely useless offering nothing but frivolous time wasting. More people still believe that art’s use extends no further than giving a moments joy or interest, and that to interrogate it further is against the spirit of art.

I can’t even begin to answer this question and I wouldn’t ever want to try. I do however have something which may (or may not) add to the argument.

What I have done, is created a perfectly useless piece of art, which I am rather proud of.

I present to you; the ‘Uselesquare’.

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One side of the Uselesquare

Now, I don’t know where inspiration for this came from. Perhaps from my sleep addled mind, perhaps though boredom or perhaps it was divine inspiration. But whatever the reason I have been tasked with presenting this piece of crap to the world.

The Uselesquare is made out of approximately 1.5 inches of gaffa tape ripped into 4 shreds and stuck into the exact configuration which ensures it is without any possible use.

Firstly, the Uselesquare is not ingenious, beautiful or even skilfully crafted. In fact, it is so unremarkable that anyone who is not the artist will forget about it almost instantly. The artist however, becomes completely obsessed with trying to find some sort of use or justification for its existence.

Two sides of the square are sticky on one side, the other two are sticky on the reverse. This means that the Uselesquare cannot be displayed easily, if at all. It can’t be stuck to a wall as only one half of it is sticky. It cannot be hung up in a space as the sticky sides will only collect dust. In fact, the idea of displaying the Uselesquare is simply inconvenient. The only way I can see to display it would be to frame it on both sides with glass, or inside a glass box and suspended it from the ceiling, but this is so much work and is so time consuming that it is not at all worth doing for this piece of shit.

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The reverse side of the Uselesquare

Even transporting the Uselesquare from Poland (where I made it) back to England was far more hassle than it was worth. I had to use probably 4 times as much gaffa tape than it took to make it in the first place, so that I could protect the sticky sides of the square from getting stuck to anything else. 
 

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A piece of folded gaffa has to cover each of the sticky sides

By creating the Uselesquare I think I have opened a great many questions for myself, but true to the Uselesquare, none of these can be answered.

Interestingly, I made this last week whilst I was in Poland taking part in a theatre festival in Gardzienice. For anyone who doesn’t know, Gardzienice is a small village in the south of Poland which hosts the largest centre for theatre arts in Europe. It’s basically a whole village of theatre and art. So, I wonder if the fact that such a useless, lazy, crappy creation which really shouldn’t be called art came out of such a creative environment carries any significance?

I’d like to say that with this piece I was making a comment on the uselessness of art, but firstly, I don’t believe that art is useless myself, and secondly, because the damn thing is impossible to display no one will ever see it meaning it even fails at this.

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Trying to display the Uselesquare

Simply there is just nothing good about this thing no matter how hard I try. Yet for some inexplicable reason I love it. I am simultaneously ashamed and proud of the Uselesquare and I just don’t know why…

In fact, now I don’t even know why I’m writing this post…what I’m trying to say with it…in fact I wish I had never begun.

And perhaps that in itself is the genius of the Uselesquare . The fact that…

you know what…

Forget it.

Leaving for Poland – Part 2 of 2

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It is roughly 8.50am and I am rising steeply and quickly into the sky.

The air outside my window is foggy and as we take off the land becomes almost completely invisible in a matter of seconds. Instead of the land then, I focus on the wings of our craft. Its simply incredible that these flimsy pieces of metal can lift and then hold us miles above the ground as they do. Watching them move and retract in that mechanical, robot-like way, I can’t help but visualise a Gundam model kit that I’ve been working on at home. It’s that sort of high-tech/lo-tech aesthetic. Something that came from the future but looks a hundred years old.

After a few minutes of grey wind and turbulence the sky suddenly brightens and the air clears. Blue sky reflects off of the wings and sun beams through the windows. I peer down out of the window and all I can see is an impenetrable ocean of cloud, a sheet so dense it looks as if you could walk on it. Above us, there are yet more aircrafts flying even higher than us, leaving a trail of visible air behind them.

I love flying. I don’t think I could ever grow tired of looking down at the clouds and feeling as though I’m a part of another world previously forbidden to humans. Or looking through the occasional breaks in the cloud cover at our land, which looks like a strange collage from way up here. A patchwork blanket of field, woodland, city and lake. I always sort of imagine myself, at this point, dissolving through my chair and the plane floor and tumbling back down to Earth. Through cold, wet, tangible cloud, cushioned by the speeding air and brought down, in free fall, to the soft ground. In my head this is a calming, meditative and almost enlightening experience, I suppose in actuality it would be kind of weird, then terrifying and ultimately very messy…

Just now I saw a wind farm in the distance. Obscured by cloud and mist I couldn’t see the land or sea that they emerged from, only what seemed like hundreds of tall, majestic structures, barely visible, spinning rhythmically miles and miles below.

I have been on the flight for about an hour now and have no idea where I am in the world. Ryanair doesn’t have one of those computer screens to show you what county you’re passing over and I couldn’t begin to guess.
So for now, I think I will sit back, close my eyes and just enjoy the strange sensation of levitating.

Leaving for Poland – Part 1 of 2

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It’s 4am and Stansted airport is heaving with activity.

The shops and currency exchange stations are open an doing good business, the overhead announcements are chiming in from all over the place and there are endless queues of people lining up to drop in their bags. Around me several other bleary eyed passengers are waking up and frantically checking their phones or watches to make they haven’t, by some cruel trick of fate, slept through the morning and missed their flight. Upon realising the time they look up, just as I do, and look slightly perplexed.

When had it gotten this busy?

I was awake, deciding to catch a moments rest only half an hour ago and the atmosphere had been almost the exact opposite of how it is now. Of course it had still been light, stuck in that perpetual artificially induced daylight that makes airports seem like another world altogether, but there had been no rush, no bustling travelers and excited holidaymakers.

In fact there had been almost no activity at all when I arrived at about 1.20am through until 3.30.
It had been quiet, the only sounds being the buzz of electrics and hushed voices emanating from a Pret at the back of the airport. Bodies had lined all the walls as people slept or waited or hid themselves away. It seemed to me as if there was some unwritten rule that no one would (or should) invade the centre of the vast space. Instead everyone huddled, either alone, in couples or even in the occasional group, close to the walls. Or they  lay underneath signage, behind bins, computer terminals or in any other nooks and alcoves they could find.
I remember feeling exposed walking through the centre of these low down, silent crowds as I searched frantically for a plug socket. Most of these had already been claimed by other creatures like myself who marked their territory by setting up whatever piece of technology they had, making that area a temporary home. Like them, I too retreated to the corners and edges of the room, found somewhere suitably safe, and buried myself between bags and under clothes.

But now, as I awake to find the place alive and bustling, again I feel exposed, this time for the exact opposite reason. Because I am not a part of the noisy eclectic crowd rushing around. I feel exposed as those tall, noisy crowds loom over me, throwing dark glances my way.

Shocked by this sudden change of atmosphere, as if I had just tumbled through a looking glass or stepped into a magic wardrobe, I stand, collect my belongings and slyly join the crowd, getting caught up in the tide of people searching for cheap coffee and tax free chocolate…