is part of The IDA
a commissioned project between 92-95
Besides displaying the images and text, hanging from ceilings
and on the floor too, It also used computers and fax machines
to communicate with people at the venues and to make the work
(early Amstrad for images - if you pushed these word processors
you got a strange mechanical wood block look). The venues were
varied, galleries and art centres, of course, but shopping centres
and nightclubs too; plus conferences here and abroad. It is here
to archive part of our history, when so much of who we are and
were has disappeared; our fate still.
The disability movement seems to lack the political consciousness
and drive compared to the excitement when I did this early project.
The IDA raised consciousness; gave alternative opinions to the
mainstream; supported people and asked questions. This latter
was perhaps the most important; to stimulate people to think and
question, never just accept.
They were written and imaged over an extended period throughout
the eighties (and thought earlier). The many questions on strips
strewn throughout the exhibition appear to be lost but what remains
was work I did, originally for myself, because I found nothing
expressing these thoughts/feelings. I wanted to read these things;
to be stimulated to explore and develop what became new notions
of society, philosophy and ways of challenging the construction
of the culture of science; new theories of reality, which could
incorporate other ideas but not exclude my/our experience and
As always with earlier attempts, I feel embarrassed about them.
I'm sure many of you will agree I should be, but I ended up launching
a public life as an experimental artist with them in the early
nineties because I was in love with ideas and experimenting (so
being a conceptual artist was my birthright); plus there might
have been someone else out there like me in need of stimulus,
comfort and irony.
The ideas might seem tame but then my fax machine, an old industrial
one like a large dog, would get hot as people faxed me their pleasure
at something different; their disagreements with the thoughts;
and their own new ideas.
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