Keith Wilson

Calendar

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This work foregrounds how things are organised and how space is organised and who organises things in space. I organise things in space. And others organise me.

I wonder what things are capable of meaning, how and why we come to attach meanings and significances to objects. Calendar turns a wall planner into the four walls of a studio, a diary into a built environment. Looking from the outside in, you peer into the space of the artist’s studio through porous walls. Look from the inside out and you see the gallery’s constructed walls framing the work as the work frames you. Gallery and studio make competing claims on the subject of art, and with this installation I invite the visitor to experience the contest of competing frames.

Mixing component elements gifted by members of the public alongside small studio works and items from his own life the artist produces a field of enquiry developed in the studio that is readily transposed to the space of exhibition. Encouraging of touch and close engagement an aura of horizontal exchange is established that encourages the visitor to imagine herself artist, critic, curator, composer, contributor, thief, all within the single visit.

The project emphasises the ‘thereness’ of things, stopping just before a collapse into a meaningless excess of stuff, offering things their place in public life, offering anything a chance for monumentality in so far as it serves to remind.

As quantum mechanics places one paradox at the centre of our material world, so we find direct exposure to the nature of our own object relations unsettling in its resistance to steady interpretation. It seems it is we who are unmoored. The thing alongside its story, sold to us as basic building blocks of reality, are found uncoupled from any such epistemological footings.

Out in the city square a caged space is made for the domesticated beast – holding pen for a big dog, or perhaps a memorial sculpture, like a mort-cage or a fenced grave that celebrating cats can weave through. King is dead..

emily

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