Keeping It Going

October 10th, 2018 marked ten years since I first presented 10×10.

10×10 started its journey as part of Deptford X fringe festival in 2008. Ten years on, my intention was to return to the Art Hub studio space in Deptford, SE London, the venue where it was first launched. It was all set for 10×10 to be a part of this year’s Deptford X fringe events – opening up the cabinet of objects for further exchanges and even hoping to reconnect with people who had been at the very first exchange event in 2008. Sadly, due to a two week stay in hospital (the result of a severe ear infection which spread to the bone) followed by an ongoing convalescence period, none of this was able to happen.

In spite of the deep disappointment I feel about having to cancel (not just the Deptford X exchange, but all sorts of other plans), I’m happy that today on the 10 year anniversary of 10×10, I’m at least able to focus on writing and updating some of the narrative associated with the events and exchanges of the past 10 years.­

10×10 responded to a call for artists to make work answering to the theme of barter and trade. I gave up 100 objects which were precious to me and invited people to take one, leaving an object of their own in exchange.

Throughout the past ten years I’ve taken 10×10 to a number of venues – Lewisham College, Herne Bay and Whitstable museums, the Stade Hall in Hastings and the First Site gallery in Colchester. Participants were asked to share the stories behind the objects they left behind if they wanted to, but there was no obligation to do so. I’ve collected some amazing stories associated with some of the exchanged items over the past decade; I’m looking forward to writing them up and sharing them one of these days.

The concept of exchange was particularly pertinent in the year 10×10 was launched: 2008 is a year synonymous with one of the biggest financial crises in global history. In the wake of a monumental financial crash, top banks & financial companies folding, I posed the question: how long would it be until people resorted to bartering?

The very act of bartering adds an emotional reality to the process of exchange that currency somehow lacks. ‘What is an object worth to you? How much do you want it and what are you prepared to give up in return?’ are among the questions I asked.

10×10 is about letting go, and exploring the powerful associations that we sometimes project onto objects and the emotional attachments we make to them. It is also about human nature and our response to being challenged away from a monetary system to one of exchange and barter. ‘Would it be people’s generosity or meanness that triumphed when it came to the value of the objects that were bartered? Would the piece be ‘worth more’ at the end of the process?

10×10 was once described as ‘a comment on humanity.’ It has been fascinating to witness the various ways people have responded to the exchange process. Overall, humanity has come out of it pretty well. Other than a restriction on size, people are allowed to leave whatever they want and for the main part, people have responded with great generosity and thoughtfulness. There’s always the odd ‘rebel’ of course, but it was interesting to witness the peer group pressure faced by participants who decided to ‘have a laugh/take the piss’ – call it what you will. Like I said, there are no hard and fast rules, other than that the object had to fit in the space provided within the cabinet.

I remember one particular young man who spoke out loud his intention to leave a 10 pence piece in exchange for a vase that caught his eye. He told his friend: ‘My Mum would like that and it’s Mother’s Day on Sunday – that’s a good, cheap present.’ He was overheard and observed by a group of people interacting with the objects in the cabinet as he began to make the exchange. They were quick to voice their disapproval – ‘you can’t do that’- ‘show some respect’ – ‘cheapskate’ and so on. I can’t remember exactly how much he left in the end, but it was way and above 10 pence. It was interesting in itself to me that money started to creep in as an object for exchange. I was never over enamoured with £s and pence being introduced, but I decided at the outset that I wasn’t going to police what went in and out of the cabinet.

Things aren’t always what they seem, of course – quieter, more subtle exchanges have taken place. Many on the surface, have appeared quite straightforward and uncluttered by any sort of narrative. But dig deeper and it often transpired that an object left in the cabinet was in fact, highly emotionally charged. A real diamond bracelet was left behind on the first launch night of 10×10, for example. It was an exchange that might have gone unnoticed had the person who left it not written in the ledger book I always invite people to write in, should they want to. In the event, this message was left: ‘This bracelet was given to me by …. perhaps one day I will tell the tale …’

It’s a classic example of the concept around value and worth: genuine diamonds and their actual monetary value, versus the emotional worthless-ness of the bracelet to this particular person at this particular point in time. In contrast, a seemingly ‘worthless’ object in the shape of a small candle stub was left in the cabinet. It was exchanged for a pristine new candle by an international student on a tight financial budget. He told me he used candlelight in his bedsit room in order to save on electricity costs – a practical, pragmatic exchange.

Friday 10th October 2008 as I said, was the date I first launched 10×10. I had no idea when I did so, how things would turn out. There are many accounts (both oral and written) of what specific objects have meant/mean to specific people along the way. As well as the actual objects that people have brought along, it’s the narrative behind them that has also been a real source of fascination for me. I’m looking forward to fully documenting the stories associated with a decade of 10×10 in the future. But for now, on the 10th anniversary of starting 10×10, I’m pleased to feel well enough to at least acknowledge the date – 10/10 from 10am – 10pm – a decade ago, when my twin sons were 10 and my Nana reached the grand age of 100 years.

10×10 The original 100 objects

‘The best laid plans gae aft agley …‘

Keeping it going – or not. Plans for the past week have completely gone to pot and I’m trying not to get too down about it. Post ‘Push The Boat Out’ I was really looking forward to getting out and about and visiting some exhibitions – all inked in my diary. And that was as well as getting down to some serious reorganising in other areas – so many things screaming for attention! As it turned out, because of an emergency hospital admission last week, I haven’t been able to get to any of the shows or cross anything off my ever growing ‘to do’ list. I’d gone for a routine appointment, in the hope that ongoing problems with my right ear had started to improve. The opposite was the case, in fact – a persistent infection had really taken hold – I knew I hadn’t been feeling very well!

Back home now and recovering from a surreal few days. The pain in my right ear is under control and I’m feeling a lot better – well enough to write this blog post, for example! I’d been looking forward to using August as a kind of clear the decks time, a chance to tie up all those loose ends – updating my website, reorganising my studio space and getting 10×10 ready for the upcoming Deptford X festival. It’s mid -August already – I’m still not feeling 100% and all the to-ing and fro-ing to hospital means that this month isn’t exactly unfolding in the way I’d anticipated. That said, I’m extremely grateful for the brilliant care I received during my stay at my local NHS hospital – it’s ongoing and I’m very grateful to be in the hands of some very kind and compassionate professionals, all recognising that ears are sensitive organs and earache hurts! I will never take the amazing free health care we have in this country for granted and I’m so indebted to the NHS staff who have helped me feel well again.

So! Patience is the name of the game and as per the Burn’s quote above, plans are made to be broken – you can’t always predict what’s round the corner. My late Nana’s words of wisdom also remind me that ‘your body has a way of telling you when it’s time to rest.’ Though relaxation doesn’t come easily to me, I’m doing my best to give my body a chance to recover – to go with the flow for a while and reassure myself that not keeping it going some of the time is actually, fine.

It’s quieter in my neighbourhood at present – lots of people off on their family holidays – and the recent heat wave means that the usual frenetic pace of London life has slowed down, at least a little. I’m in a state of in-between as far as work is concerned, having just finished exhibiting my work in a lovely group exhibition, ‘Push The Boat Out.’ The show was curated by Harry Pye and James F Johnston, with Amelie Lindsay and included some fantastic work of artists I admire and respect. The entire start to finish experience was really positive and the exhibition definitely goes down in my book as a special one to be a part of. It’s over now, but here are details about the ‘Push The Boat Out’ show via Harry Pye’s brilliant Rebel magazine:

http://therebelmagazine.blogspot.com/2018/07/press-release-for-push-boat-out.html

I’m also sharing a short film made by Corey Samuel which for me, perfectly captures the overall energy and vibrancy of the show and the artists in it. Multi-talented co-curator James F Johnston’s musical contribution helps push the boat out even further – all very exciting! See it for yourself here:

https://www.facebook.com/harry.w.pye/videos/10161152803255355/UzpfSTczNjg4NzI5OToxMDE1NjYxNjEzNjE0NzMwMA/

Meantime, it’s back to the studio and to thinking about future work and all that that involves. A new challenge presented itself just before the ‘Push The Boat Out’ show began, which will inevitably affect the way my work goes over the next few weeks and months …

My friend has asked me to move my stuff out of her garage as she now requires the space; it’s looking likely that I will have to move out by mid November. I’m really grateful for the space she’s given me ever since we were given notice to quit the ASC studios in New Cross some 3/4 years ago, but all good things come to an end.

And so, I’m faced with familiar feelings – slightly unsettled and anxious, and acutely aware that a move for me is no small task. Far from ignoring it, I have to get to grips again with the reality of the huge mass of stuff I own which, on the last count, consisted of over 100 filled x30 litre boxes. There are also bits and pieces of furniture to think about – the 10×10 cabinet, a dressing table, my Nana’s display cabinet, various bird cages I’ve collected, for example – plus, of course, the inevitable unsold work which I’ve never quite been able to part with.

‘ … never quite been able to part with …’ is the crux of it, really and I know that I’m likely to spend time in the coming weeks fretting about the sheer volume of stuff I own. It’s that guilt thing again which so many collectors experience and will relate to – but something else has crept into the mix, I realise – that of age and ageing – which, much as I hate to admit it, means that schlepping heavy boxes and furnniture around is much more physically demanding and so, more of an issue these days.

Storage more often than not, equals money, hence the need to justify why I’m holding onto the things that take up valuable (and costly) space. If money were no object, my preferred choice would be to simply transfer the stuff from the garage to an alternative storage space. That way, I wouldn’t even have to think about the contents of the boxes and whether I need to dispose of anything.

It’s the thinking that creates the stress for me: how much do I need to re-address what I can/cannot keep? Am I in danger of having to let some things go, simply because I don’t have the space to keep them? – even having to address these issues can make me feel completely overwhelmed. And let’s not forget, while I’ve undoubtedly collected a mass of ‘fun’ daft things over the years, there are a lot of emotions associated with others stored away in the boxes – all with their own unique narrative. I’m more prepared now that the boxes are labelled, but coming across some things can still evoke powerful reactions; opening the boxes up can be akin to opening old, hurt wounds, unresolved issues – the objects acting as pertinent reminders of the passing of time – mortality and the fragility of life.

The recent invitation to take part in ‘Push The Boat Out’, plus preparing for the 10th anniversary of my 10×10 project in September has pointed to the importance of cataloguing and keeping things accessible. Searching for specific objects reminded me how glad I am that I took the time to label them and catalogue the contents of each individual box when I last moved. It was a long, laborious and boring process at the time I remember, but every minute was well spent and has meant that putting my hand on the things I need in the short term has been relatively easy. In spite of the many moves I’ve had to make over the past few years, I’m also glad that I’ve managed to retain the things I wanted to – it’s what makes up the raw material for so much of my work, after all.

Over the next few weeks, I’m going to have to be giving serious consideration to where I’m going to put the bulk of stuff retrieved from the garage. A large garden shed would inevitably dominate my small family garden, but the upside of this idea is already starting to outweigh the down: to be completely independent of anyone, to have free storage and to have it close at hand can only be beneficial. Commercial storage comes at a price and I’m not in a position to afford it while I’m paying for a shared half of a studio – enough of a luxury as it is.

Someone I know once suggested that I photograph every single item I own before parting with them – that having images instead of the actual physical objects would be just as satisfactory. It’s not a thought I’ve dismissed out of hand, but I can’t imagine not experiencing the joy of being connected with the real thing – something to hold in my hands, gaining a real sense of what it is – what it feels like, what it really looks like, up close – how it smells, etc. But that’s a whole other blog post, I think and I have plenty to be thinking about and getting on with …

’30 pieces of silver’ revisited …

I’m delighted to say that there’s been some exciting news about my ’30 pieces of silver’ performance event. The owner of the genuine piece of silver, one of the 30 pieces given away on February 22nd at the opening night of the ‘In The Future’ exhibition, has been found! To put it into context, this is what I wrote in a blog post at the start of March:

The theme of value and worth is very much at the core of my work, and the idea behind ’30 pieces of silver’ was to explore that concept in a real life situation. I therefore used part of the budget I was given to buy an actual, genuine piece of silver. It was an antique 1815 hallmarked vinaigrette (a sort of miniature pomander, which used to be filled with smelling salts or perfume, so that it could be brought out and sniffed when confronted with foul odours).

It excited me to see it nestled amongst the other items on the salver, unidentifiable to the untrained eye as something ‘worth’ infinitely more than any of the other 29 objects. Would people recognise it for what it was? Would it be the first item chosen? And if so, would it be because of its monetary value, rather than its aesthetic or emotional appeal? Or would it be taken by someone who had no idea of its value and simply liked the look of it?

Alongside the curator of the show, Rosalind Davis, I had been putting the word out in an effort to track down whoever it was that chose the antique vinaigrette; last week I finally found her! I met artist Alison Turnbull  (a participating artist in the ‘In The Future’ show) for the first time last week at a gathering at the Collyer Bristow Gallery. She told me how she’d been meaning to get in touch to say that it was her who took the vinaigrette – and that ‘liking the look of it’ was exactly the reason she chose it. Alison told me that she was attracted to it as ‘a small container’ and that its compactness appealed to her.

I’m delighted that the piece was chosen by someone who values it as an object of beauty, rather than for its financial worth – or even by someone who failed to appreciate it at all (as could have happened) and simply discarded it as rubbish. That scenario was a risk I was prepared to take; there’s always an element of risk associated with participatory work.

Incidentally, some people have asked how the people who got the opportunity to select something from the silver salver were chosen. The answer is that it was completely random. I hired actor, James Haslam, to distribute the silver: his remit was simply to approach people on an ad hoc basis, remove the lid of the salver and ask them: ‘would you care for a piece of silver?’

It was important to me that the person distributing the silver was unaware of who anyone was in the Gallery on that particular night. I didn’t want any favouritism being shown! And to make sure that the whole thing was completely above board, I didn’t even tell James that one of the pieces amid the 30 was actually a real, genuine piece of silver. The only person I let in on the secret was the curator, Rosalind Davis, as part of my initial proposal for the event – although I didn’t even tell her which piece was the genuine one!

James didn’t engage with the audience other than to ask them if they would like to select an object. His presence caused a bit of a stir: ‘What’s with this guy?’ somebody asked me, before approaching James himself to see what was going on. Other people gravitated towards James and hung around him in the hope that they might get a chance to take part, while others took their chance to help themselves to a piece while James was in the process of offering the salver to someone else.

There was a massive gathering of some 400 plus people on the opening night and navigating his way through a vast crowd was no easy task. James’ vast experience as an actor, however – plus many years of dealing with a diverse, general public, meant he did an excellent job.

Unsurprisingly, trying to locate 30 pieces of silver distributed among over 400 people also proved challenging. But there’s been a steady trickle of responses from people (and some lovely images sent in of some of the silver objects in situ in their new homes) since February 22nd when Rosalind and I started putting out calls, asking people to let us know if they’d taken a piece of silver away. with them on the opening night. To locate the owner of the vinaigrette feels like the icing on the cake!

Thanks once again to everyone who participated in ’30 pieces of silver’ – to James who served the silver with such grace & style, to those who sent images of their claimed silver in novel, in situ places – to the curator, Rosalind Davis for her support & enthusiasm for the idea and of course, to the Collyer Bristow Gallery itself whose financial support enabled me to create a completely new piece of work.

‘No Place Like Home’  – as part of the ‘New Narratives’ show at hARTslane New Cross Gate, London

I can never take it for granted, but each time I’ve presented a new piece of work which depends on people participating, they’ve done so in positive and thoughtful ways. ‘No Place Like Home’ is a case in point.

I asked people to respond to a ‘tower block’, uninhabited and stuffed full of fake money, representative of the many that have started to saturate areas like New Cross and Deptford. I invited people to take away the money and bring back something in exchange. The aim was to make this tower block a real home; strip it of its financial assets and transform it into an object of beauty, with heart and soul at its core. I hoped that people would fill it with things that they felt make a home a real home, rather than it being yet another investment unit.

Sure enough, by the time the exhibition was over, plenty of fake money had been taken and more than enough objects had been left behind to transform the tower block into something more homely.

Many of those visiting the show at hARTslane told me the stories associated with the objects they left behind. Their stories added to the feeling of creating homes as real homes; objects and the conversations around them put the humanity back, transforming the soulless cash cubicles into places of warmth, with heart, soul and conversations at their core. It was interesting to hear a fellow artist at the artists’ talk, speak about the cubicles of the CD rack as ‘rooms – giving us insight into the lives of those who resided in them.’

Pets clearly had strong associations with home, as several items such as photos of dogs and cats as well as dog toys, bones and cat biscuits were left behind. And there was an emotional parting with a collar which had belonged to a recently deceased beloved pet dog. Other objects left in the tower block spoke for themselves: there was an emphasis on home as a place of peace, rest and respite in the things that were left: food items, candles, beautiful fabrics, plants & flowers, herbs & spices – the aesthetic, comforting aspects of home represented in them. There were also items making references to children, filling the homes with love and laughter, hope and optimism, as one person told me.

At the end of the day, what is left becomes less important than why something is left; the collective aim to change something is what matters most.

‘New Narratives’ was a real joy to be a part of; hARTslane’s premise behind the subject ‘Dear London’ resonates with me and the ever increasing lack of affordable social housing is a subject I care passionately about. There was a sense of compassion and humanity amid the artists, designers and architects involved in the show, all of them acutely aware of current social problems and all doing their best, not simply for themselves, but for the local area and its residents. I learned a lot about creative activities going on in my close neighbourhood during the course of the show – secret, hidden hubs of creativity – all doing remarkable work for the benefit of communities at large.