Housing estates are popping up west of Ballarat. New suburbs seem to appear overnight. I stood in a paddock and photographed the distant building sites and then, six months later I stood in the same spot on tarmac surrounded by wooden stakes marking the new subdivisions. Six months after that I’m in a suburban street and the residents are using leaf blowers on their artificial lawns.
We do a lot of things to convince ourselves we’ll live forever: avoid certain food and drink, don’t smoke, exercise regularly, keep feverishly busy. I wonder if building houses is part of that. Houses are a metaphor for permanence. Your home is your castle. It’s your safe haven. Bricks and mortar. And yet, when you watch these homes being built, they look so ephemeral. I’m fascinated by the effort that goes into creating such an illusion of permanence, which is why I’ve chosen to make elaborate, complex and, above all, time-consuming drawings on the crappiest detritus I can find: old packing crates and pieces of plywood “salvaged” from building sites. Is it archival? No. That’s the point.
Death, entropy and impermanence are the key themes behind this on-going project.
Enthusiasts who have made it this deep into my web site may spot some links with Billie Thomas’s 36 Ulurus project.
art about place 