BA Project in Fine Art

Statement and Thesis

Joe Keys

BA Project in Fine Art – Statement and Thesis Supervisor: Jóhannes Dagsson Iceland Academy of the Arts Department of Fine Art Spring 2021 Notice

Joe Keys

BA Project in Fine Art – Statement Supervisors of BA Project: Hekla Dögg Jónsdóttir, Ólöf Nordal and Páll Haukur Björnsson Supervisor of Statement: Jóhannes Dagsson Iceland Academy of the Arts Department of Fine Art Spring 2021 This statement is about a 16 ECTS final project for a BA-degree in Fine Art at the Iceland Academy of the Arts. It is not allowed to copy this statement in any way without author’s consent.

The installation ‘Notice’ revolves around a playful compromise of ´usefulness´ in found objects. This is something I rely on in my practice; by starting out with used material I establish a beginning place where to play with composition, aesthetics and function. I am looking to accentuate useful aspects of objects, so much so that they gain a new and awkward logic. The wheeled corner table is adjusted to clumsily fit around a column, the notice board is built with a corner, perhaps made for particular size notes or a specific amount of notes. The magazine holders become an object that has to be held by wooden rods coming from the column. These three sculptures were made in reference to each other and speak directly to a place of work, not a specific work environment, just somewhere mundane and empty. The enlarged printed sudoku is unsolved and framed and speaks to this emptiness. The emptiness in this sense is abstract, as it has to be figured out to be filled, unlike the notice board or magazine holders, their space can be filled intuitively, whereas the sudoku needs prior knowledge of the mathematical rules. Looking closely at the print you can see that the puzzle has come from a newspaper as the reverse image appears faintly. In this case it is an advertisement for an easel, the sculptural elements of the easel reflects the sculptures in the installation. As well as this, the negative space in the installation is important to me and highlights an uncertainty of purpose in the objects. The corners of each work are important to this installation, which came out of my intrigue into what a corner symbolises. I see it as a meeting point, a balance and a compromise, how objects exist in space. This is also a space to consider how people exist and coexist. The process of changing the found objects is self-evident, the viewer can see that the objects have their own history of purpose and function, from the worn, lacquered orange wood of the table, or the pin holes of the notice board. I emphasised the works as objects in their own right, not just as material. This has been a consistent aspect of my practice, though the works made for this exhibition have grown in scale compared to the works in my previous solo exhibition (see page 17/18 in the BA thesis). There is a shift from the intimate quality of my smaller works, to an absurdity in these larger works. This suggests a consideration of space, more so than a small, delicate sculpture. With the smaller works there is a suggestion of precision and detail, and there is a combination of disparate material. With the larger works in this exhibition all of the material relates to each other, so the absurdity comes from the fact that the logic of the objects is played with subtly. With ‘Notice’ the architecture of the museum was important, and gave me a chance to play with the notion of compromise. By working with the columns in the exhibition hall, I could install the works in a composition that both takes up space, and hides away. For

instance with the magazine holders, they are low to the ground and tucked around the corner from the other works, yet they stick out of the column with rods that should not need to hold them. The sculpture contradicts itself, it is a container made to hold certain items, yet a wooden rod fits perfectly through its holes that intervene with its purpose. I like the poetry of an object that holds, is now held. As the installation of the sculptures was so important, I then added the sudoku print to reflect another kind of space, a conceptual idea of space, yet still an object that fits into a formal system. Just like the sculptures are made to fit in the exhibition space, the sudoku needs to be solved and given its order. It is an understandable urge to look for patterns and systems in the objects around us, the sudoku represents this urge of organising space. With the sculptures there is a sense that they could be placed in various ways to fit in the exhibition space, the right placement is, of course, subjective. With the sudoku there is generally one correct solution and many incorrect possibilities.

Image 1:: Notice. Installation view. Mixed media installation. (2021). Photo Joe Keys. Joe Keys, Notice, mixed media installation, On Purpose, Iceland Univeristy of the Arts Degree Exhibition in Fine Art, Hafnarhús, Reykjavík Art Museum, May 15 – 24, 2021.

Installation view of ‘Notice’ (2021). Photo credit LHÍ/ Claudia Hausfeld.

This paper is a 4 ECTS final thesis for a BA-degree in Fine Art at the Iceland Academy of the Arts. It is not allowed to copy this thesis in any way without author’s consent.

Abstract

Potential Solutions examines my art practice in the context of contemporary art in Iceland, looking firstly at my perspective on gathering material to make art with, then broadening this inquiry to include artists that I relate to. I focused on material that I find in everyday circumstances, often single-use plastics and stationary and consider how and why I work with these things. After this, I discuss repetition and its relationship to artists as a method of honing a craft or as a concept in itself, predominantly through the practice of installing exhibitions with multiple frames filling gallery walls. Later in the text, I looked at containers and how they complicate my interpretation of objects and function, as they exist as accessories to hold objects. The chapter looks at my developing intrigue from what the container holds, to then my sole interest in the container itself. I have researched many artists that have influenced me, through critical texts in exhibition catalogues, monographs, and online journals. A significant amount of the thesis is informed by the philosophy of Jean Baudrillard’s The System of Objects, which gave me a context to discuss the logic and utility, or lack of, in the objects I have worked with. As well as this I discuss Duchamp’s Readymades and the Fluxus movement, two historical moments that revere the everyday. The works of mine I discuss put forward an idealistic way of organising, a suggestion of how objects should exist, with an awareness that these suggestions are not pressing or necessary. It is hard to imagine, as I contemplate a career of art-making, that I could be tackling the same drawing or sculpture for 30 years, yet I empathise with that drive of many artists to understand one certain subject.

Table of contents

1. Introduction……………………………………………………………….1

2. Gathering………………………………………………………………….2

3. Repetition………………………………………………………………….7

4. The Containers……………………………………………………………12

5. Conclusion………………………………………………………………...14

6. Bibliography………………………………………………………………15

7. List of Images……………………………………………………………..17

1. Introduction

I am concerned with and interested in the reasons an artist makes art, as well as the choices they make. These are both spontaneous and long term choices, as in how an artist responds to material in a moment or how they stick to a certain practice over decades. This thesis, amongst other things, deals with material in three main chapters, Gathering, Repetition and The Containers. It is an attempt to present my art practice directly and to consider the influences that have shaped said practice. The Icelandic art scene and its history have influenced my perspective on art and my art-making. Ingólfur Arnarsson, Hildur Bjarnadóttir and Bjarni H. Þórarinsson, I refer to in the text, as well as younger Icelandic artists Bjarki Bragason and Leifur Ýmir Eyjólfsson. Another aspect of influence is Conceptualism and the Fluxus movement that I look to in terms of repetition and the intimacy and poetic nature of art-making. A certain philosophical thread runs through this thesis concerning the nature of objects, in which the writings of Jean Baudrillard have informed. A large part of the text delves into specific artworks of mine with a focus on how the works are organised. The objects I write about emerge from the dominant culture that relies on single-use materials and are maintained by consumerism and globalism. This notion is something that informs my work, but my focus does not often stay there. A mass- produced piece of plastic can represent all that is wrong with the world, but it can also represent something mundane.

2. Gathering

The walk to the bus stop is not always lucrative in terms of objects or things, but occasionally there will be something worth stopping for. In the everyday, object and thing can be interchangeable, but it might be important to make the distinction. There are everyday objects that are recognisable for their function, elastic bands, paperclips, drawing pins, an item that does not need to be explained to understand its utility. Then there are objects with an unclear function, a piece of a larger machine or system that is needed to define its context. I believe a thing is a term used at the moment when an object cannot be defined. Baudrillard wrote ‘Every object claims to be functional, just as every regime claims to be democratic’1 and I can understand this in that if an object is made there is surely some purpose or intention implied from its creator. However, my interpretation implies a change from thing to object, which could suggest a before, after and between stage. Potential in the material that can go back and forth, depending on its context. So to say that in the moment of finding an item, I am projecting its qualities and function, just as another person could see it and disregard it as rubbish. The interpretation also puts the responsibility of determination on a person, which would make every object a thing, until it is understood. On the curb where the bus stops there was a piece of black rubber, it had the shape of a clamp. When I picked up the black rubber, I guessed it came from a bus window, possibly the outer seal to keep the window in place. The rubber thing became a rubber object, so, I put it in my pocket. This piece of rubber has potential but it is not clear, as of yet, what this will take the form of, and when. That is the nature of my collecting, if it stops me in my tracks, captures my attention and holds it long enough for me to pick it up, then it is probably something I will keep. Sometimes in some places, there is plenty, so there is plenty to disregard, which is the key to finding things. I have to be slightly aware of all the things, but I cannot take everything, it defeats the point in looking. If I was to want everything I could just drag a rake behind me and gather everything I walk past, which sounds clumsy and wrong. There were five small orange rectangles made from plastic sponge, I picked those up.

1 Jean Baudrillard, The System of Objects (London, UK: Verso, 2005), 67.

Further, there is another way of finding objects, and that is by the method of asking. I ask people if they have something, and sometimes they do. It is good to ask people who have a workspace or studio because they are likely to have a drawer with things inside. The Potential Objects, the things people keep just in case, that perhaps will come to use. Regular people have these, I think, people with homes and people who have been alive for a while. Things that could resemble inner parts of a complex system or something mundane and understandable like a zip or a door wedge. Overall the material I am interested in implies a universality or recognisability, without alluding to something certain like an advertisement. For example, an elastic band to use in my work, it could allude generally to stationary or an object used to contain, or specifically, depending on colour and size, it could imply food consumption or the postal service. When contemplating my art practice and working towards my first solo exhibition I was listening to Bill Callahan’s song ‘From the Rivers to the Ocean’ and the opening verse, sung so clearly, said:

When, when you were blind You touched things for their shape Have faith in wordless knowledge Have faith in wordless knowledge2

The words were simple but they highlighted a feeling I could not easily describe in my recent works, an intuitive logic in found objects I had meddled with. A way of making or abstracting by accentuating the found object’s features, that plays with the notion of labour in terms of readymade art objects. The gestures with the objects intend to question the certainty or assumption of function, by using this “wordless knowledge” I play with the organisation and recognisability that an audience can relate to and possibly doubt. My recent solo exhibition was called Sketches for Potential Solutions (figure 1) which included many small sculptures and one larger sculpture made with this logic. The material of the sculptures varied from wood, plastic and metal, but was primarily disregarded things that became objects as I

2 Bill Callahan, Bill Callahan: I Drive a Valence - the Collected Lyrics of Bill Callahan (Chicago, Illinois: Drag City, 2014).

worked with them. single-use plastics, bread clips, elastic bands, containers, wires and more. The title refers to the idea of preparation, development and the space between process and finished work. For instance, sketches are something you make to figure out aspects of final work. Potential speaks to the changing of the material that made the sculptures, and solutions are the final artworks but perhaps refer to the language of business and produce more so. The statement ‘a solution looking for a problem’ came up many times in my research. In a way I see this as how most art is made, a concept is formed and the decisions thereafter provide a solution to the problem the artist created. Alvaro Barrington speaks to these decisions as a painter ‘I think in every painting you need to feel, intuitively why the decisions have been made about what is there.’3 It implies the work as a struggle that is overcome. For me, finding the objects becomes the problem and when I have figured out how to deal with it then comes the solution. There is a universality I look for in objects, that when worked with their function can change or be exaggerated. I am looking for objects that are not overly complicated, but have a basis that I can then complicate. The “wordless knowledge’ in my mind, is about the assumption we have of an objects limitations, I wanted to call this into question through the works. I highlighted, subverted, and celebrated their function. In one of my works, Bread Clip Solution II (figure 2), I organised part of my bread clip collection by holding them together with a purple elastic band that came with a bunch of asparagus. The piece was placed on a wooden door wedge repurposed as a shelf, and written on the elastic band was ‘produce of Peru’. Here we have two examples of items with a clear use, the bread clip, intended to give a use-by date and contain the bread in its bag, then the elastic band provided to keep the asparagus gathered and display its origin. Once the food items are done the items have served their purpose, however, their primary functions as containers or holders have not changed. Despite the work’s small size there is much time and place implied, from the many dates printed on the bread clips, and their journey from their initial manufacture. Then we can assume the journey of the elastic band with its clear origin of Peru stated in white ink. The collection of these time-stamped bread clips could be an On Kawara

3 Joe Lloyd, “Alvaro Barrington – Interview: 'When You Look at My Paintings, You're Encountering Parts of My Identity',” Studio International: Visual Arts, Design and Architecture, July 19, 2019, https://www.studiointernational.com/index.php/alvaro-barrington-interview-artists-i-steal-from.

project (albeit without the traditional paint on canvas), specifically referring to his Today series in which, ‘Each Date Painting bears the date on which it was executed, printed horizontally in white paint across the centre of a monochrome canvas.’4 Whilst the act of his painting is important, the attention turns toward the events of a certain date, and most often a tragic one. Bread Clip Solution II is made of manufactured parts. The clash of contexts, material and decided function are clear yet there is a harmony in the way the elements fit together. The elastic band does not have to stretch too far to accommodate the bread clips, that sit together tightly in accordance to the door wedge that is not too wide. When these objects are apart they have or have had their use, they exist as an accessory to the commodity they came with, or function they represent. When they are placed together they give each element a reason to go beyond their initial function. It not only becomes an art object because of its context in an exhibition but by the coincidence that the elements fit together, they justify the collecting and keeping that brought them together. If one was to see my recent works away from their context of the exhibition, I am not certain they would be seen as art objects. Perhaps, they could be seen as changed, eccentrically organised objects. If we look at this in terms of Marcel Duchamp’s readymades, and specifically Dieter Daniels’ interpretation of them:

If you have seen a readymade, it obviously must have been exhibited, that much appears self-evident. For a long time its presentation in an exhibition was thus considered not merely a possibility, but a precondition for a readymade.5

This idea of a precondition is interesting and places my perspective on the objects I have been making. With the works I exhibited, I accentuated and played with their use, but not in a way that hid their initial function, and in this way, I feel that they resonate with the idea of a readymade. Considering the work Receipt Roll Solution (figure 3), a small plastic tube that held a roll of receipt paper, rather than wrapped around the tube as it should be, I filled the tube with the remaining paper with its red ink, indicating that the roll is almost finished. It speaks to the readymade, as I added

4 Woo, Jung-Ah. “On Kawara's Date Paintings: Series of Horror and Boredom.” Art Journal 69, no. 3 (2010): 62–72. https://doi.org/10.1080/00043249.2010.10791384.

5 Daniels, Dieter. The Readymade Century. Leipzig: Spector Books, 2019.

nothing to the object, just pointed out a way of organising its material. This piece was made at my place of work, a coffee shop in downtown Reykjavík. I have replaced the receipt roll many times, and often kept the plastic tube, but on the conception of this piece, the idea of utilising the extra paper was clear. I made the work very quickly, between serving customers, I kept it in my pocket and took it to my studio.

3. Repetition

In my works that deal with found objects, there is an inherent repetition that comes with collecting the material, as well as the varying methods of engaging with it. There is also repetition in my daily routines and frequently that is something the work alludes to. It is a repetition of methods, as well as habits described in earlier chapters in the gathering process that comes through a routine of looking and finding for items. But the idea of repetition has informed my perspective on art-making and I have been intrigued by looking at its place in contemporary art. In the exhibition Sketches for Potential Solutions, the accompanying handout was a small sheet of paper with a printed manifesto (figure 4). It was a vague list of contradictory suggestions on how to deal with objects, suggesting my methods of making the exhibition. In the making and giving of this manifesto, it made the potential for repetition evident. If I am presenting these suggestions, it implies a process that can be used again and again, there is an open-endedness. This was important to the work because it is a matter of dealing with objects every day, open-endedness implies that the work can carry on, and vary depending on what is found and made with the findings. A manifesto does not necessarily have a conclusion, just an ongoing way of living or acting. I was struck by the self-assuredness of manifestos, especially from the Futurist movement, but also a much later manifesto of the Stuckists, with lines such as ‘Art that has to be in a gallery to be art isn’t art.’ And ‘If it is the conceptualist’s wish to always be clever, then it is the Stuckist’s duty to always be wrong.’6 Their manifesto is passionate and critical, but there is an aversion to any other medium than painting. Through my presentation of the manifesto, I played with this confidence and passion, by making vague, contradicting statements. This was to highlight my open work process, but also to critique the arrogance that comes with making a manifesto. Through this writing, I understood the patterns in my art-making, by listing exactly how I do and do not make work. Repetition was a key part of that and in my art education, to learn new techniques and to gain an understanding of certain works. It is not so much about making a consistent body of work, but experimentation, when I stack plastic bread clips or paper stickers, there is a repetition of the solution but the outcomes differ.

6 Alex Danchev, 100 Artists' Manifestos: from the Futurists to the Stuckists (London, UK: Penguin Books, 2011).

One specific example of this is in a work of mine in which I continue to collect the sudoku puzzles from the daily newspaper, cutting and stacking the square puzzles (figure 5). It has become a somewhat ritualistic practice and an alternative way of marking passing time, three puzzles every day except Sundays since Friday 13th March 2020. The work is influenced by Dieter Roth’s Daily News books of the 1960s, and the stacks of Félix González-Torres but my drive to collect this material was decided, primarily, by circumstance. The Icelandic newspaper Fréttablaðið is delivered almost daily and most of the information is lost on me, it becomes a matter of looking at images and symbols, bright colours of advertisements, photographs of recently deceased people in the obituaries, and sudoku puzzles. Sudoku is a democratic game, a puzzle for an individual, only requiring numbers. It is almost universal, and its function is a pastime, by collecting them without solving them, I am playing with its purpose. This task I have given myself repeatedly cutting and stacking three square pieces of paper every day becomes less about the content and more about the accumulation.

An object no longer specified by its function is defined by the subject, but in the passionate abstractedness of possession, all objects are equivalent. And just one object no longer suffices: the fulfilment of the project of possession always means a succession or even a complete series of objects… A whole series lies behind any single object and makes it into a source of anxiety7

Here, Baudrillard speaks of what happens through accumulation and collection and alludes to the worry that comes with those acts. I relate it to my practice as I collect and gather material, repeating gestures and methods of dealing with the objects that become artworks. If I was to only make one artwork in this manner, then only work with paint on canvas thereafter, the abstracted object I made would be without a context and purpose for existing. The repetition and accumulation of abstracted objects justify the individual work, and the work justifies using the method. I want to widen this inquiry into other forms of repetition and focus on artists that have impacted Iceland, as it reflects my influences and situation. There are intriguing examples of repetition in Icelandic art, contemporary and earlier, in which

7 Jean Baudrillard, The System of Objects (London, UK: Verso, 2005), 92.

the idea is explored through practices spanning decades and specific exhibitions. Considering Ingólfur Arnarsson’s work and specifically the drawings he has made for over 30 years. There is something profound in his trusting in the method of drawing, it is a dedication to the act. ‘…the drawings reveal themselves to be made of cross- hatched lines that accumulate until the drawing takes on the impression of pure tone.’8 The depth of pure grey tone holds time, rhythm and patience and despite the lack of contrast or conflicting textures, it feels emotional and poignant. Another artist that uses repeated forms through drawing is Bjarni H. Þórarinsson with his Visi-Roses series, ‘beautiful, symmetrical drawings where Bjarni's taxonomy of sounds, words and concepts is expressed in visual form.’9 Like Arnarsson, he commits to the medium that works for the concept. A similar feeling of commitment comes from Hildur Bjarnadóttir’s canvas works which ‘involve unravelling ready-made canvases and weaving new patterned canvases from the threads.’10 All three of these examples speak to craft, tackling the same idea, again and again, perhaps to gain an understanding of the subject, or to find something new in the repeated act. It speaks to a personal practice, like reoccurring motifs or gestures from the artists’ craft. There is an aspect of these practices that allows honing of skills by staying with the same forms and subject matter over many years. When Cézanne painted Mont Sainte- Victoire numerous times there is an understanding that the paintings developed from canvas to canvas, ‘This balance and harmony about which artists worry so much are not the same as the balance of machines. It suddenly ‘happens’, and no one quite knows how or why.’11 In this sense, we understand why repetition is a tool for the artist, but if we consider minimal or conceptual art, it seems repetition is ingrained in the work, for example, the symmetry of Donald Judd’s specific objects implies a form repeating, especially when they have a reflective surface, it is almost inherent to the medium to repeat the act of producing the work.

8 “Ingólfur Arnarsson,” The Chinati Foundation, accessed December 7, 2020, https://chinati.org/collection/ingolfur-arnarsson/.

9 Jón Proppé, “Visio-Congress: Overview and Exposition at The Living Art Museum, Reykjavik,” artnow.org, October 31, 2010, http://www.e-artnow.org/announcement- archive/archive/2010/10/article/ACTION/4545/.

10 Christian Schoen and Shauna Laurel. Jones, Icelandic Art Today (Ostfildern: Hatje Cantz, 2011), p. 144.

11 E. H. Gombrich, The Story of Art (London: Phaidon Press, Incorporated, 1995).

However, there are other examples of exhibitions that have shown a repeating mass of frames or shelves in their installations. The installations continue a lineage of references to the frame from the Paris salons to museum archives and later conceptual artists, such as Susan Hillers work from 1972-76 ‘Dedicated to the Unknown Artists consists of 14 panels, featuring over 300 original postcards depicting waves crashing onto shores around Britain.’12 Or John Hilliards Camera Recording its Own Condition (7 Apertures, 10 Speeds, 2 Mirrors) from 1971. Both of these works utilise multiple frames and reflect the medium of Book Art that was prevalent at the time. Conceptualism and Book Art seems to go hand in hand, and the two movements often featured artists that worked in this sequential format, whether it be pages of a book or a mass of framed images on a gallery wall. More recently and in Iceland specifically there has been a handful of artists using this method of installation. Bjarki Bragason’s exhibition at The Living Art Museum, Three Thousand and Nine Years in 2019 that showed framed samples of the artist’s grandparents garden that was intended to be demolished. The repetition in this case spoke to the sheer volume of flora and fauna from one garden, as well as the imagery of scientific and archaeological research. ‘In many of his works, Bjarki addresses the human need to sort, catalogue and understand one’s surroundings.’13 In this case, the need to understand felt calculated and scientific yet sincere and emotional. The frames are a place for memory, like how someone would press a flower in a notebook, but every page is filled. Another exhibition from 2018, Manuscript by Leifur Ýmir Eyjólfsson showed a series of clay tablets with ‘vernacular of the in-between, contemplation or mere filling of gaps’14 filling every wall of D-gallery in Reykjavík Art Museum. Many of these works and experiences have influenced my practice and the frame is something I have come to use frequently in my practice. Before I developed the sculptural works and solutions, I was using other methods to speak about my collecting and organising of the material. In my work The Map of the Old Horizon (figure 6) I aligned 34 found photographs of Icelandic ships, originally given with

12 Tate, “'Dedicated to the Unknown Artists', Susan Hiller, 1972–6,” Tate, accessed December 11, 2020, https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/hiller-dedicated-to-the-unknown-artists-t13531.

13 Dagný Heiðdal et al., eds., Gjöfin Frá Amy Engilberts (Reykjavík, Iceland: Listasafn Íslands, 2019).

14 Áslaug Guðrúnardóttir, “D35 Leifur Ýmir Eyjólfsson: Manuscript,” listasafnreykjavikur.is, April 23, 2019, https://artmuseum.is/exhibitions/d35-leifur-ymir-eyjolfsson-manuscript.

packets of cigarettes, to level their horizon line. I bought the incomplete collection of photographs in a charity shop in Reykjavík. This material was chosen by circumstance, whilst I paid for these photographs, I was not looking for them but photographs and paintings of ships were something I would frequently see in second- hand shops in Iceland and became a subject I wanted to work with. The piece was an experiment in which the concept was completely decided before beginning the work, and the repetition of the ships in three long frames and one short one made for a depiction of morse code or a punctuated sentence. Whilst my organisation of the horizon speaks to subjects like fishing industry, souvenirs, and Icelandic history, I treated the material like I would any other, that the composition is decided by certain features and characteristics within the images, just as the sculptures I make are dictated by their perceived function and design. Another work that was in and about the frame was a site-specific sculpture titled Regular (figure 7), a work I made in Narva, Estonia, that borders on Russia and was once a thriving textile industry town. As part of a residency program linked to the Kreenholm Textile Factory, I was able to visit the factory and get a brief glimpse into its history and the current situation of the town. This was perhaps the first time I saw organisation so literally in my work when I took flaked paint that was peeling from the walls and placed four different colours in four window panes. The window frames had fallen from their hinges and it was a visual analogy of borders, dividing four aged pastel colours that were prevalent in the town. Something was exciting in using this found material in such a huge place, any artistic intervention in a factory this size feels minuscule when considering the hundreds of rooms and factory floors. This is another example of the material being decided by external means, whilst I could have chosen to use any other material in the factory, I chose not to bring anything into the place nor take anything away, using only the paint that had fallen, and windows that were broken. Once again the question of context comes to the artwork, the object I made from the material in the factory remains in the factory, I just combined elements abstractly. If this work was taken from the space it would shed its context of the factory and the dilapidation, on the other hand, if it is seen in the future inside the factory without the context of its creation presented it may just appear as an eccentric organisation of material.

4. The Containers

Moving slightly away from repetition and the frame, my works have also been made around containers, something I have come to think of as a frame, and a way of abstracting objects. The container is an object in its own right, but is complicated, as its purpose is generally to contain other objects, it is an accessory for objects. The frame houses the artwork and its function is to preserve the artwork, except for when the artwork relies on the frame as a subject or context. I see the containers and contained objects as separate parts of an artwork, without each other they would serve another purpose and speak to different concepts. The idea of using containers came when I was considering making works around my collection of family photographs, and whilst I was interested in the photographs for their stories and images, I became more interested in them as a material. I was questioning the idea of preservation and responsibility of domestic family photography. I began placing individual photographs in repurposed containers, often plastic and cardboard packages from supermarket food. The photographs would sometimes be in containers that were too big or not big enough for their size, awkwardly curled up, or balancing in the container. This brought up the idea of wasted space and using the containers to their full potential. I moved away from the family photographs as a subject and focused entirely on the containers. In the piece Drawing Pins (figure 8) I took a container intended for drawing pins, emptied and replaced it with coloured paper, almost matching the colour of the pins. It was a visual subversion of functionality and purpose, arising from this concern of wasted space. Whilst it was a comment on functionality, it also spoke to order, organisation and perfection, by taking an exact amount of paper with precise measurements to fill the container I find a new potential in an item intended for one task. This was not a helpful suggestion of function and the gesture is absurd, by emptying the container of its pins, I had to find a new place or situation to organise the pins, yet there is a logic implied. Further, I am involved in a collaborative project with Lena Schwingshandl, an artist based in Vienna, Austria. I have never met her in person, and I have never been to Austria. The work begins when one sends an empty container and is activated when the other fills the container. There are no spoken limitations for the work, only that the containers should be sent through the post and filled with something that suits the object. The archive of containers does not have a permanent place, each object can be

sent back and forth, raising the question is the individual container the artwork or just one part of a living artwork. Again, this project speaks to the idea of an abstracted object that Baudrillard writes of, however it is not abstracted in its ownership or utility. It is subverted by its process of finding a new material to fill the container if it is an artistic choice to fill a container with one leaf, then that becomes the function of the abstracted object. Just as the function of the sudoku puzzles, mentioned earlier, become a representation of time passing when they are cut and stacked. The project that Lena and I are working on is titled Contented (figure 9) and I see it as a process of getting to know someone, but also research into value. It lets us consider the items artists keep, if a leaf seems pointless in keeping, by finding a container to keep it, it is justified. These works that make up the project have a feeling of the Fluxus Movement, with a visual reference to the Fluxkits and Fluxboxes that many of the artists of the movement made. Estera Milman in conversation with Alice Hutchins spoke about the intimate nature of making art like this, ‘When you started working on the multiples - filling and stacking those found objects - you started being concerned with other people, with interactivity.’15 And this was something that our collaboration had in common, as well as the Fluxus movements intrigue into the everyday. The containers dictate so much about the artwork, and whilst the decisions as to what they shall contain is down to the artist, it feels like a collaboration with the object. There are the artists, the object, and the container, all of them give each other a reason to work together.

15 Estera Milman, Fluxus: a Conceptual Country (New York, NY: Franklin Furnace, 1992).

5. Conclusion

Gathering, Repetition and The Containers broadly resemble my art practice and give a name to my biggest concerns of the material I work with. I have come to understand the choices I make in my practice quite thoroughly but some aspects still are to be developed and figured out. Somewhat subconsciously this thesis became about my justification and an explanation of how I make art, and how using certain materials justifies a certain outcome. In some ways, this is just something a student has to do, to explain their work to teachers and peers, yet I think the justification, in this case, is predominantly for myself. The reasons I have discussed these artists and concepts is to focus on what makes an artist practice, as opposed to what makes finished artworks. Possibly, it is not the finished artworks that drive an artist to continue working, but the pursuit of meaningful practice and an investigation into the materials that intrigue them. For this reason, I looked at artists whose practices shared dedication to one thing, one concept, be that general and open, or incredibly specific. This allowed me to find the same patterns in my works, the concepts I have clung to without fully realising. I wrote at the beginning of the thesis of “wordless knowledge”, meaning an intuition I look for with found objects. This realisation highlighted the fact I do not want to dictate the outcome of the object as an artwork, as much as the object can suggest an outcome itself. Of course, I influence that outcome, but I do so by responding to the assumed function of the object. The works of mine I discuss put forward an idealistic way of organising, a suggestion of how objects should exist, with an awareness that these suggestions are not pressing or necessary. Another significant realisation was when I looked into repetition and my relationship to it, I feel there is a lot more to consider with this subject. Many of the artists that have influenced me to have a certain connection to repetition as a subject but also as a method of making. I was not left with a clear reason why an artist would repeat, but I saw its lineage from the origins of modernism to conceptualism and book art. Art is a practice, and to maintain it is to repeat it. It is hard to imagine, as I contemplate a career of art- making, that I could be tackling the same drawing or sculpture for 30 years, yet I empathise with that drive of many artists to understand one certain subject. I am left with the question, what aspects of my work will change over time, and what will remain?

6. Bibliography

Arnarsson, Ingólfur, and Hannelore Kersting. Ingólfur Arnarsson. Mönchengladbach: Städtisches Museum Abteiberg, 1995.

Baudrillard, Jean. The System of Objects. London, UK: Verso, 2005.

Callahan, Bill. Bill Callahan: i Drive a Valence - the Collected Lyrics of Bill Callahan. Chicago, Illinois: Drag City, 2014.

Danchev, Alex. 100 Artists' Manifestos: from the Futurists to the Stuckists. London, UK: Penguin Books, 2011.

Daniels, Dieter. The Readymade Century. Leipzig: Spector Books, 2019.

Gombrich, E. H. The Story of Art. London: Phaidon Press, Incorporated, 1995.

Guðrúnardóttir, Áslaug. “D35 Leifur Ýmir Eyjólfsson: Manuscript.” listasafnreykjavikur.is, April 23, 2019. https://artmuseum.is/exhibitions/d35- leifur-ymir-eyjolfsson-manuscript.

Heiðdal, Dagný, Harpa Þórsdóttir, Júlía Marinósdóttir, and Ragnheiður Vignisdóttir, eds. Gjöfin Frá Amy Engilberts. Reykjavík, Iceland: Listasafn Íslands, 2019.

“Ingólfur Arnarsson.” The Chinati Foundation. Accessed December 7, 2020. https://chinati.org/collection/ingolfur-arnarsson/.

Lloyd, Joe. “Alvaro Barrington – Interview: 'When You Look at My Paintings, You're Encountering Parts of My Identity'.” Studio International: Visual Arts, Design and Architecture, July 19, 2019. https://www.studiointernational.com/index.php/alvaro-barrington-interview- artists-i-steal-from.

Milman, Estera. Fluxus: a Conceptual Country . New York, NY: Franklin Furnace, 1992.

Proppé, Jón. “Visio-Congress: Overview and Exposition at The Living Art Museum, Reykjavik.” artnow.org, October 31, 2010. http://www.e- artnow.org/announcement-archive/archive/2010/10/article/ACTION/4545/.

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Tate. “'Dedicated to the Unknown Artists', Susan Hiller, 1972–6.” Tate. Accessed December 11, 2020. https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/hiller-dedicated-to- the-unknown-artists-t13531.

Woo, Jung-Ah. “On Kawara's Date Paintings: Series of Horror and Boredom.” Art Journal 69, no. 3 (2010): 62–72. https://doi.org/10.1080/00043249.2010.10791384.

7. List of images

Figure 1 Sketches for Potential Solutions (2020)

Figure 2 Bread Clip Solution II (2020)

Figure 3 Receipt Roll Solution (2020)

Sketches for Potential Solutions

Uncertainty is not a stable position, but it is a position nonetheless

Functionality is subjective

Paper ought to be cut and stacked

If it can close, it should be closed

If it needs to be open it should be open

Tape is a long rectangle, but it should be wrapped in a circle

Elastic should not be stretched too far

If it can be smaller, then it should be

If you measure something, you should know what colour it is

A drawing pin is a suitable shelf

Treat objects as they treat you

Empty if it is not full enough

Fill after emptying

If you must organise, it should be selfless

If you can, remember Thursday 22nd October 2020

Figure 4 Manifesto - Sketches for Potential Solutions Figure 5 Sudoku Collection (2020) (2020)

Figure 6 The Map of the Old Horizon (2020)

Figure 7 Regular in Narva, Estonia (2019) Figure 7 Regular in Narva, Estonia (2019)

Figure 8 Drawing Pins (2020)

Figure 9 Contented in Helsinki, Finland (2020)