your haste to pass from one place to another, you may have accidentally fallen
across this inessential corner and stopped for a moment, caught by the sight of
cut paper or printed ink.
place of scattered and fragmented light, which writes across the sill, is an
echo of everything that I have been in search of for some time now.
I have been here before, in a place of contemplation, only to wonder how many women have stood before me and looked out of this seaward facing window or leant against the door frame, waiting for their man to come home from the sea, knowing that he may not return. The ever-present harsh wind, a constant reminder, battering the window pane and whipping the grass into knee high tufts.
Then, everything was about surviving and longing and waiting. Now, if you look, you can trace this across the walls in abandoned Croft houses on Shetland, some of which bear traces of decoration lovingly painted by the families that have long since moved away.
The world reveals itself to those on foot and I’m
glad to have met you.
Tracey Doxey is a knitter, researcher, traveller, site-specific artist, writer and currently, an AA2A Artist in residence at Sheffield Institute of Arts until the end of September 2019.
Interventionist, Pop-up, Site-specific Renegade Art, or, Art
placed to raise a smile, make a connection or engage?
Today, I did something either quite interesting, or quite
stupid. I’m edging on the side of the former.
On the 14th floor, lightly taped to a window, in meeting room, in the Architecture department, in The Arts Tower, I left a Paper Laser cut of my knitting. It’s an intervention between paper, view, light and viewer.
After creating digital laser cuts, to place in derelict
croft house windows across Shetland, I find that I am now looking around at
making site-specific work within the City that I live. And questioning why, and what for and what
does this really mean to me and to anyone else? Is it legal? Is it damage or
intrusion? Is it pop-up fun? Is it harmless? What is the purpose? Should I or should
On New Year’s Day, I purposely looked, from the car park, at the Arts Tower – having never been inside it, never used the Paternoster lift, never seen the view of our City from its heights and I considered that it seemed the perfect location to place my laser cut work in one of its windows. In a Site-specific, pop up intervention. For the work to stand as a chance to have a moment of exchange with a passer-by. To engage, in some way. I never want to, or will I damage or deface any location. I want to interact with people in a positive, maybe a thought-provoking way. My work requires the viewer to interact, if only briefly.
To look up, look through it, look at it, take it down, tear
it down, contact me, ignore me. I don’t
mind but in placing this laser cut in a window, in a room, in a building that I
have never been in before – I wanted to touch some ONE in a small way, to
intervene with a view unlooked at, through blinds half down and half up, to
maybe touch someone, connect with someone – a positive intervention. This moment
of connection is a gift, from me to you.
At first, we caught the Paternoster lift. A completely new and exhilarating experience. I, and my friend, were a little scared so we
waited. We waited to see how fast the
lift moved, how many seconds we’d have to get in and then out whilst it was
moving. We were a little scared to do something that scared us. So, we waited a
little longer then went for it.
Riding up in the lift car was a short but completely mindful time. I had packed my scarf away, held my bag tight and concentrated before stepping into the moving lift and it felt good to overcome being scared. It was decided on ascending, that we’d get out on floor 15 because if we delayed getting out, there were still 2 more floors before we’d have to launch ourselves out. But at floor 13, we were too apprehensive of the exit so jumped out at floor 14. I looked to my right and there it was – A perfectly placed meeting room with a wall of windows, opening up to a wide vista and view across the city.
So many meeting rooms across the city are just used without consideration of where they are. How many people looked out of those windows 14 floors up, amazed at the height from the floor the the view point, amazed to be in the sky overlooking the busy city? I don’t know. The blinds were up and down. The location instinctively felt right as it had done in the past when placing site specific work. I unrolled my laser cut whereupon it was gently held open so as it would not roll into a tangled mess, and I taped it lightly at the corners, to the window pane to create an intervention between the outside and in, a breaking up of the view so that it now had to be looked at by peeping through knitted paper. It’s a trial, it’s not bespoke but could be. If the room had laser cuts on the windows, and when the sun shone through, there would be knitted lace shadows across the table. It’s a start.
This piece is not entirely finished. When someone engages with it to look at the city
landscape through it, this will be the moment of completion.
It’s harmless pop-up art that sits in one of the most iconic
buildings in Sheffield, to open up an interaction between viewer, location, and
art work, to intervene between view and seeing, to stop someone just for a
moment and for them to wonder what it is and why it is there.
A moment of exchange.
We interact with our architecture.
We break the unseeing eye.
The work is called ‘Bird’s Eye’ for two reasons – the laser cut is developed from a simulation of my Lace knitting which is inspired by Shetland and the many lace designs created by generations of lace knitters going back to the 1800’s, who knitted to subsidise their family income.
This is a Shetland Bird’s Eye lace pattern and secondly, I called it Bird’s eye because, for no other reason than that – It’s a Bird’s Eye view