Hans-Peter Feldman Exhibition

Yesterday I went to the Arnolfini Gallery in Bristol, I saw an exhibition of work by Hans-Peter Feldman.
On the wall in the gallery his work was described as a 'light-hearted celebration of the everyday. Much of his work concerns itself with collecting, a pastime that has been his passion since childhood in the 1940's; from tin toys to mechanical antiques, postcards to thimbles.' (Arnolfini Gallery 2007)

The first thing I encountered was a darkened room with a collection of everyday objects rotating on a series of carousels, there was a light shining on these objects, with ever-moving, flickering shadows projected from them onto the wall behind - like a phantasmagoria show (the top image is my photograph of this space in the exhibtion). In another space in the gallery (second image from top) there was a series of glass cabinets containing collections of objects, presented like museum specimens. The objects in the cabinet were all of a similar size, and all seemed to be functional objects, although some seemed old, perhaps out of date - not the kinds of things that would be in common use now. Being placed in a glass case removes them from their everyday context, they can no longer be used or touched, instead becoming curiosities, exotic objects. I felt curious about how these objects were linked, why they were grouped together, did they embody any personal significance, what was their history?

I have also uploaded two of my line drawings from the exhibition (see two bottom images).

A poem about Things

I found this Poem by Jorge Luis Borges in Things 15 Winter 2001 - 2002

Things
My care, my pocket change, this ring of keys,
the obedient lock, the belated notes,
the few days left to me will not find time
to read, the deck of cards, the table top,
a book encrushed in its pages the withered
violet, monument to an afternoon
undoubtedly forgotten, now
forgotten,
The mirror in the west where a red sunrise
blazes its illusion. How many things,
files, doorsills, atlases, nails,
serve us like slaves who never say a word,
blind and so mysterioouslt reserved.
They will endure beyond our vanishing;
and they will never know that we have gone.

'When you know where something came from you are more likely to treasure it'

I recently read this article: 'Sitting in judgment, why discerning consumers should pay more for less' in Selvedge Magazine issue 20, Nov/Dec 2007, by Beth Smith.
The article made me begin to question what it means to design and make more objects when we already have more than we need. 'Greed has replaced need; consumption of goods bears no resemblance to the quantity we actually use.' (Smith 2007: 59). ‘One jumper will make you much happier if you’re cold, three jumpers (even in different colours) will not make you three times happier.’ (Smith 2007: 59). It made me begin to question a designers responsibility to design things that won't go out of fashion, that will be of good quality, that use ethically sourced materials, and perhaps have the potential to be adapted or modified by the user to respond to their changing needs or fashions. I linked this to the garments designed by Issey Miyake, able to be cut out and designed by each individual wearer (see image above).

The article then goes on to discuss buying '...locally from small producers, or the larger companies that support them. It's the antidote to the feelings of emptiness available on every anonymous high street...it makes you a participant as well as a consumer, where you have a sense of who's in your universe and how it fits together. When you know where something came from you are more likely to treasure it.' (Smith 2007: 59)
I have added links to the websites of companies mentioned in the article for their ethical design policies:
squint
Toast
Riedzioni
Luma
Gayle Warwick
Oecotextiles
Cynthia Ashby

Objects, Things and The Lyrical Museum

In Things and Words: Toward a Lyrical Museum, Mickail Epshtein writes about the idea of a Lyrical Museum. I have picked out some quotes from this text, alongside some of my notes and thoughts about this text.

Ephstein writes that things are usually in museums because they're '...very rare or ancient, unique and valuable in themselves.' or they '...are important as samples typical for an entire family or class of similar things...' or '...interesting because of their association with a prominent figure...a museum memorial.' (Epshtein 1993: 152). He writes that in contrast a Lyrical Museum would display: '...the things of everyday life, in general use, without a particular monetary, historical or artistic value; they are encountered everywhere and do not usually interest or surprise us. what is essential to such things is not their typicality but the individual existance marked by the habits and ideals of their owners.' (Epshtein 1993: 153)

'Usually a lyrical work is written not about Grandiose events... but about a 'magic moment', a passing smaile, a gentle breeze, or a speckle of dust

'...every thing, no matter how insignificant, can possess a private or lyrical value.' (Epshtein 1993: 153). The 'things' value is subjective, imbued by its owner - as a memento it perhaps carries or embodies a memory of a person, place or event. The object is the remaining, solid trace from the past, carrying a narrative either suggested by the physicality of its apperance (signs of ageing etc) or the verbal narrative told by its owner, finder or inheritor.

In contrast this makes me consider the objects in charity shops or rubbish dumps. The objects we no longer want, the things that aren't special enough to keep - what happens to them? In charity shops a higher value is given to things that look relatively new, with as little traces of their previous life as possible. I link this to the rag bags I recently documented from a charity shop - the things no one wanted - thinking abut their lost and hidden stories of their past - who wore them? why were they discarded? What makes the difference as to whether an object is valued and kept or thrown away without care? Is it arbitary and subjective (about personal experience and memory), rather than about any inherant physicality or material value of an object? 'A thing out of signification creates a break in the network of connections with others and with oneself' Epshtein 1993: 154). In terms of my own design process it makes me question, would it be possible to design and make objects that would have a personal value or link to the individual who bought them?

Notes on collections: display and memory

I have been thinking about the way seemingly ordinary objects, can have personal value imbued into them by the way they are collected, thought about or displayed, and the way we read that display or collection. This happens in a more formal way in public spaces such as museums, galleries or shops, but it can also happen in domestic spaces. On shelves, or mantle pieces, cabinets or tables - objects, souvenirs, mementos telling a story about an individuals life. Yet while some things are proudly displayed, others are hidden away and never seen, stored in cupboards and boxes, in the attic or under the bed - collections locked away, preserving the physicality of our memories from the past.

I linked these thoughts to these quotes:
'The cupboard seems to have had a near mythical importance to Russian communal apartment-dwellers. It was the most prized piece of furniture, serving at once the contradictory desires for privacy and display that the apartment itself, with its flimsy partitions and drab decor, could never satisfy. The carefully arranged treasures in Lyuba's cupboard included: a plastic apple - a souvenir of her native village in Belarus - a Chinese thermus flask decorated with a floral design, a porcelain dog, some artificial flowers, a samovar and a set of folk style porcelain cups.' (Travis, T. 2000. 'Things with Souls The Object in Late Soviet Culture'. In: Things 12 Summer 2000. page 38)

'...collecting can be seen as an ongoing attempt to cope with the fact that time goes by.' (Winzen, M. 1998. Deep Storage. Prestel - Verlag. Page 22)

' As Stefan Hoderlein says, 'time is constantly being lost, but we can keep, store or retrospectively appropriate or invent photographs, traces, documents, and memories'.' (Winzen, M. 1998. Deep Storage. Prestel - Verlag. Page 22)

The lifespan of objects and things

I have recently read this text: Epshtein, M., 1993. Things and Words: Towards a Lyrical Museum, in: Tekstura: Russian essays on visual culture, University of Chicago Press.
This article describes the idea of a Lyrical Museum which, instead of displaying rare or valuable objects, would consist of ‘the things of everyday life’ (page 153). Things valuable because of their personal significance.
The article also discusses the life or journey of an object from the warehouse via shops and the home to the rubbish dump.
The ‘Twentieth Century created two great symbols of the alienation of things from man: the warehouse and the dump. The first absorbs the things that have not reached him, that flaunt haughtily their perfect surfaces and bright labels. The second the things abandoned, without attention and care, dusty, filthy, rotting and rusty before their time’ (page 158)
This led me to begin thinking about a designers responsibility to consider the lifespan of their product. How will an individual relate to the object they buy? Will it be kept or thrown away?

Notes on 'Objects' and 'Things'

I've been reading an article in Things magazine (issue 12 Summer 2000), by Tim Travis, called Things with Souls The Object in Late Soviet Culture. I have picked out some quotes from the text and some of my thoughts and notes in response to what I've read:

The article discusses some differences in the English Language and Russian language. In Russian 'vesch' is translated as 'thing', however it has a more specific meaning that is lost in the translation 'vesch is one endowed with spirit or essence - a thing with a soul.' (Travis 2000: 41). This is in contrast to 'predmet' (object) 'which refers to an inanimate, functional entity' (Travis 2000: 41). This idea of 'vesch' or 'thing' brought to mind the idea of mementos and personal - perhaps uncouncious -collections of things, that when seen on their own, without the person they belong to, become a kind of absent portrait, because they contain an essence or trace of the person who used them.

Tim Travis also discusses the idea that '...the things that are drawn to and circulate around each person reveal a lifetime's changing tastes, habits and memories - the geological layers of a personality...' (Travis 2000: 41) if we looked at this type of collection of objects we'd begin to read the narrative of an individual's life. The things that would tell this story most clearly would be 'The trivial everyday things that entwine with and articulate a persons character...' (Travis 2000: 41).

'The Thing consists entirely of touches that invisibly sculpt its essence... each one is meant to be touched, lifted, moved; some even have knobs and handles that seem to be extended towards the human hands... their form may be machine made, but their essence is shaped by the hands whose warmth they exude.' (Travis 2000: 45). This made me think of old and worn shoes and clothes with frayed patches of fabric or scuffed heels. They tell a story of how they've been used and worn - a story of all the places they may have been and of the person who wore them. The imprint or trace on these objects, gives them a sense of 'vesch'. I have also begun to consider the ergonomics of design, how we relate to the physicality of the objects we use, how the fabric around a button hole will become more worn because of repeated use, yet the area underneath a pocket flap may remain bright and new looking for much longer. Will these considerations have an impact on the way I begin to think about designing an object?