Having some time-based problems with reality. No matter; sometime in the past I took apart the igloo and removed it from the John Curtin Gallery. This is a short video by the John Curtin Gallery memorialising the SoDA 11 show:
When I went to de-install the igloo, I couldn't wait to get it out of there. I was completely sick of thinking about it; how to justify it, how to rationalise and accept it. Despite anticipating a softening of my initial antagonism toward it, I haven't gotten over the bitter disappointment of how small, ordered and knowable it was. And silent. And cold. Maybe it taught me things I don't want to know, maybe that it turned out this way and not how I wanted it - indicates a successful detachment from a predetermined outcome? All I know for sure is that I feel the documentation is more interesting and offers a malleable potential devoid in the somewhat sterile object encased in the tomb of the gallery... so I couldn't wait for it to be torn apart. In documentation it can live a far more interesting life.
Igloo 3.0 just prior to de-installation
In some ways this is a monumental failure on my part to fortify and defend my own practice. I thought often about setting the paper on fire or adding water or some kind of corrosive animal to the work in order to try and save it from itself. But after the agony of the opening night, knowing that very very few people visited afterwards, there didn't seem to be any point. An almighty apathy for the thing kept me from visiting it more than once a week. I thought; did I really want to ruin my day by going there? The answer was usually 'no'.
Entrance to Igloo 3.0
When I did get there, at least I did not have to stand like an undergraduate on Degree show night being photographed by their parents next to their work. Despite it's infuriating 'thing-ness' it was a place to go or be. It did function as a 'tent thing' should, it provided a degree of intimacy and privacy. The pens, plastic pirate coins, lollies, stickers, catalogues, palm cards and punched paper were always dancing across the floor in new configurations. There was always something new to read.
I like to eat cheese ;P
There were interactions between writers and censorship. The above phrase originally read: "I like to f*ck c*nts", and was accompanied by a graphic diagram. Elsewhere the word "nigger" was covered over with scribble and an in another area an intimate anecdote written in the form of a post-secret was treated the same. While some of it seemed driven by nothing more than the vacant excitement of having a writing instrument at one's disposal and anonymity, sweet sweet anonymity... other parts drove me to neatly fold the floor up and keep it. I found this one on the last day:
I lived in Alaska... floor detail of Igloo 3.0
Exploring the floor was the best part of this work. The pens there were the potentially corrosive element that saved this thing from being absolutely uninteresting. It also slowly convinced me that while I may think this may be the second most boring thing I've ever made, it can't be the worst.
I LOVE THNZ
This is the coolest thing ever
Cooper Dards
Proof
Plus, it got to be in the same gallery as George Egerton-Warberton's Meth Lab. It was a little bit like the old Honours Ghetto... but not really at all. It doesn't matter. The igloo being in the same building as Meth Lab made the igloo better.
permission pending George Egerton-Warburton Meth Lab
