“Perhaps in the end it was more valiant, and greater in God’s sight, to breast the currents of reality, sin, and accept sin’s bitter consequences, instead of standing apart, with well-washed hands, living in sober, quiet security, planting a pretty garden of well-trained thoughts, and walking then, in stainless ignorance among them–the sheltered beds of a little paradise.” – Hermann Hesse (1971). Narziss and Goldmund. p. 287.
Assembled in the gallery are a range of objects, sharing a common origin; the refuse of consumer culture.
Television tubes loom perilously. Below, domestic microwave ovens, carrying with them a vague radioactive mythology, speak of their previous owner’s relationship with food and time; compartmentalised, architectural forms, they receive the constant attention of video surveillance.
A collection of submersible pumps work endlessly toward a self-organised equilibrium, in the manner of a musical canon.
A suspended battery of computer fans chatter and sway, achieving a limited degree of autonomy, while nearby, mounted on a plywood box, lamps glow when a remote switch activates a hedge trimmer motor encased in a section of plastic road cone.
The artist who uses scientific instruments to measure the effect of a ritualistic ceremony, designed to bring rain; the collector who’s obsession with photography exposed a rich vein of human experience; the outcasts who are trapped by their internal worlds, obsessively utilising all available materials in manic episodes of creative production.
These are my people.
Camera: Alvin Xiong