Matthew's Tumber's brush, once wet with paint is dry now. The paint and the brush are one integrated object. The brush has painted itself painting. Here, the paint expresses colour, flatness, shape and an object induced thickness. Such is the nature of acrylic paint that its capacity has dispensed with the need of a surface and a stretcher. This is what the brush says.
The brush was given as a gift by Matthew and has loitered in my home, not knowing what status it had. Was it a small sculpture, a wall hanging or was it just wandering around the house suspended between treasure and rubbish but essentially waiting in the queue for the next declutter purge?
The trolley came to me from having been found. I am always looking for ways to make heavy material manageable. Objects need to be moved. Spaces need to be clear. The trolley waited and watched me as I walked past on my way to and from the studio.
Today, I walked past the trolley and noticed the hole in it was a negative version of a bucket in the washroom. The mind is a filing system that makes a proper organisation of the studio a vanity.
The trolley was useful now, by being able to carry the bucket. When filled the bucket could be moved without being handled. The weight of the bucket filled with water made a stable wedge fit into the trolley. It touched the ground as the feet touch the ground in a walking frame.
That the water could be carried seemed to suggest that the water could do its own carrying also. Objects of a particular weight and size would float. The brush put its invisible hand up. The plastic objects among the steel converged and became a raft, Captain Brush at the helm.
Trolley, bucket, water and brush
When objects in the world speak to each other, one is bound to respect that conversation. The listening is the bringing of the objects together. Like boatpeople, my raft will not find a home. No art Nauru around.