Traffic Simon McIntyre & Monique Redmond (NZ)
Traffic is a collaborative art project by Monique Redmond and Simon McIntyre (NZ artists), and is the third exhibition for their project, Mapped: Site Specificity, Local Environs and Documentation.
Monique; When I travel, I take an inventory; I mean I record my own traffic. It is like making a documentary of sorts. A simple sequence of images document my glance, encompassing the point of interaction where the unnoticed is seen. Moving documentaries recall and annotate a universal trace, one that travels across space and time. In Traffic, photographic documents engage in a type of snapshot recall, of places glimpsed in motion. Contemplating sites like passer-bys, images taken in transit become registered moments culminating in a series of site activities.
Simon; Focusing on the idea of an expedition, I am making a series of A4 scale paintings by dipping into photographic images of the ‘here and now’, and translating them into visual code. All taken on the move from cars, trains and buses, these collective moments transform into a painted language, representing encounter. They are an account of a touristic-type interaction, a mapping of everyday peripheral experiences through the isolation of a frozen motif. Where my paintings act as the still, the pause to Monique’s fleeting documentaries, together they register a record of site activity.
The Infinite Lawn Helena Leslie
“This is how it should be done take a square section of the lawn, one meter by one meter, and eliminate even the slightest presence of anything but clover, darnel, or dicondra. Then move on to another square. No, perhaps not: remain perhaps with a sample square. Count how many blades of grass there are, what species, how thick, how distributed. On the basis of this calculation you would arrive at a statistical knowledge of the lawn, which once established.
But counting the blades of grass is futile: you would never learn their number. A lawn does not have precise boundaries, there is a border where the grass stops growing but still a few scattered blades sprout farther on, then a thick green clod, then a sparser stretch: are they still part of the lawn, or not? Elsewhere the underbrush enters the lawn: you cannot tell what is lawn and what is bush. But even where there is no grass, you never know at what point you can stop counting: between one little plant and the next there is always a tiny sprouting leaf that barely emerges from the earth, its root a white wisp hardly perceptible; a moment ago it could have been overlooked but soon it will also have to be counted.”