The Inuksuk is supposed to help show a safe path...

Ronan gave me a broken Inuksuk, a sort of stone representation of a human figure made by First Nations in Northern Canada and the Arctic. Out in the landscape large Inuksuks are built to guide travellers and show a safe way forward. Small ones are made as a kind of lucky mascots given to someone setting out on a journey, and this is how Ronan got his one, before he left Canada to return to Belfast. He meant that it had been a kind of sculpture, and since it was now broken, it was open to be reinterpreted by me.

...now much safer.

I wanted to emphasize the vulnerability of the original figure, that what had been intended as a protective mascot had actually gotten broken itself, and keep the human form in the new sculpture, but introduce an element of outside action to safeguard the situation. By carefully wrapping it in strong thread I not only healed the break in the sculpture, but added a protective padding making it highly unlikely that the figure would break again if dropped on the floor. Perhaps the Inuksuk really had worked, in way of sacrificing itself and soaking up all the danger facing Ronan on his trip home. If so, this was my way of thanking the magic of the little man, by mending him and returning him to duty.

Object no. 17

This was a though one. The young art student who handed in an empty Buckfast bottle told me that it had just stood model for one of her paintings, a painting she had tried to paint in memory of a friend who had just met a violent death, and who had been in the habit of often drinking this tonic. She hadn’t been very happy with the painting, and expressed a wish to capture her feelings in words instead. I felt that I had to do something here that wasn’t funny or quirky, like so many of my other pieces. Still, I want to emphasize that this piece is not made in memory of a young man who passed away to soon, but in response to her emotions about that.

Before I cleaned it the bottle had contained the mouldy remains of a flower stalk.

I peeled off the sticker and wrote on it, in a simple hand, like someone sending a message could have, then sealed the sticker inside the bottle.

NON FUI, FUI, NON SUM, NON CURO

This was a common inscription on the graves of Roman soldiers, and fitting I felt. Nothing much more can be said I think.

Object no. 18

One of the things artist Shiro Masuyama handed in to the repair shop before going off to Japan for a while, was a pair of burned out light bulbs. -They never last very long before they burn out, was what he said, and bang, there was the sculpture ready and finished for me of course, just waiting to be put together.

Light bulbs are one of these mundane things we never think about, but which are slowly passing the horizon of everyday into nostalgia, like candles and kerosene lamps before them. While candles burn out so quickly and precisely that their burning can be used as a measure of time, with a good quality one burning all night, light bulbs generally last just long enough for us to think of them as having a life. After filling these ones with sand I timed them to around 2 minutes, which I found a suitable quantity and worth calibrating after. I was thinking of all the times we say, -just give me two more minutes and I’ll be done. The hole between the two bulbs is cut in a bamboo plug, which is a very hard wood, but still soft enough to slowly, slowly erode as the sand flow back and forth. That way, if the glass was used regularly, the minutes would start passing faster and faster, just like these short two minute excuses tend to do in our own lives, as we grow older.

Object no. 3

Ms Lismore came by and presented me with a conundrum. She had passed by the shop a couple of times, read the big poster explaining what was happening here, and decided to come in to ask for my assistance. Now, she was not interested in taking part in my conceptual game and trade a broken object for a sculpture. Instead, she had an artwork that was broken and that needed to be repaired. Even if it wasn’t really what I had set out to do, could I maybe just fix it? And then obviously not turn it into a conceptual contemporary artwork. The plaster plaque of a horse’s head (a mass produced remake after a classical Greek model, if I am not mistaken) belonged to her sister, it was not worth much but had emotional value, and Ms Lismore’s niece had accidentally broken it while the sister was away. If I could just patch it together before the sister came back from her holidays, that would be grand!

The plaque after being glued together again.

This was clearly not what I had set out to do with my project, but then again, the request addressed several interesting issues. What if artists were paid by the community, to supply the normal citizens with artistic services? What would that look like, if not only affluent people could afford to order a portrait for the 40th birthday, or ask for a sculpture to commemorate a wedding, or just something to make the workplace a bit more interesting? I guess a lot of the requests would be simple, small jobs like the one Ms Lismore had asked me to do, so I decided to agree, and I restored her plaque to the best of my abilities. Given that I am a sculptor and not a professional art restorer, I explained that I could repair the physical shape with glue and carefully brushed on plaster in the cracks, but that the repairs would still be clearly visible having a different colour, repainting the plaque is something I didn’t dare take on. Hopefully, it looks even more antique this way.

Object no. 15

Independent film-maker El Porter-McCullough came by to do a short interview for her blog (http://www.creativechangeni.com/) and took the opportunity to hand in two objects for repair. One of them, a broken VHS tape she had bought second hand but never even had a chance to watch, immediately inspired me.

Broken VHS tape with the film Con Air, supposedly

While El was conducting the interview she also told me how she shot all her materials for her blog on her iPhone, slightly adapted with a clever camera case to attach different lenses. I don’t think she was aware of it herself, but I found it highly ironic, and a sign of our times, that a contemporary film-maker herself waxing lyrical about the latest video mediums was at the same time sentimental about the vestiges of the technology of yesterday. Being of the same generation I can totally emphasize, having grown up with VHS and the first generation home computers, I am very happy keeping updated with the latest, but all my memories are of the old, disappearing formats.

iPhone killed the VHS, object no 11

To find a new use for the old VHS tape, and to connect it to El’s everyday use of the latest technology, I decided to use the tape itself (which is the invisible core of the VHS) as my main material, but not as intended to store images – instead I turned it into a small woven bag for her iPhone. For me, this is a suitable way to keep the technology of the past in our present, allowing for our nostalgia without loosing touch with the modern.

Object no. 11

Artist Shiro Masuyama handed in three objects, one of which was a broken iPhone cable.The USB connection had been stepped on and was crushed. What to do with this broken leftover of what had once been an accessory of the most popular luxury object of our day and age?

iPhone cable with broken USB connection

In a way it made me think of the recent IT bubble in Ireland, and the whole myth of the Celtic Tiger, which turned out to be very expensive for the Irish people. I found some nice knot patterns on Youtube, further implicating the myth of the Celts in the modern digital age, and proceeded to turn the cable into a “Tree of Life” Celtic knot. I mounted the necklace I now had in a simple box frame to further separate it from the everyday and emphasize its mythical qualities.

Celtic Apple, object no 2

Object no. 2

The gallerist Peter Mutschler handed in a broken object very typical of our time, and also very telling of the location in a poetic of way – a torn umbrella. They are actually quite sophisticated little constructions, with their springs and levers and extendible arms, but since everybody knows umbrellas will anyway get torn apart by the first strong wind, or just be forgotten and lost somewhere, the proper resources and materials are never invested to make them last. They are thus as fragile as they are sophisticated, but at least they are affordable.

Rainbird, made from broken umbrella, object no 10

I wanted to take advantage of the slender organic feel of the stretchers and turned it into a kind of bird/bat creature. Many human designs are extensively modelled on nature, which I think becomes obvious with the simple umbrella, as soon as it is recreated into a wing. By hooking the last section of several stretchers together I actually managed to build wings that would stretch and unfold when the runner was pushed forwards. They would never survive any use, however, as the metal is not dimensioned for the extended pressure of four fingers on one thin arm. Because of this I ended up suspending it from the ceiling, well out of reach of the curious  fingers of children.

Object no. 10