<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" version="2.0"><channel><atom:link rel="hub" href="http://tumblr.superfeedr.com/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"/><description>This page is a site  to accompany my PhD artistic research presented at the RIba Hub, Manchester and PaRC NW carnival on July 4th - 11th 2011.

David Penny</description><title>State of Play</title><generator>Tumblr (3.0; @attention-ownership)</generator><link>http://attention-ownership.tumblr.com/</link><item><title>Attention -&gt; Ownership</title><description>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;img src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m01ur85psV1qclgzj.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Attention, Preparation, Transformation, Ownership.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A recent photograph has been made that will become part of ongoing series featuring different table top sized objects. Each will be photographed in black and white, in a horizontal format and on white, black or grey paper, still life backgrounds. The pictures made for the series have so far been different shaped things such as stone blocks, pieces of brick, lumps of concrete, various tiles used for decorating the interior of rooms and other objects which can be defined as being hard or heavy. This matter is of some substance but will comfortably sit on a tabletop in the second bedroom of a semi detached suburban home.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In this paper I wish to use a reflective analysis of the different processes I engage with that lead to my various interactions with these objects and the production of their photographs.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Attention&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The object in question was a section of a fabricated stone bollard or block weight used for constructing and securing temporary metal fencing, often found around building sites or used at public events to control the movement of crowds, I have since come to be told these are called &amp;#8220;Heras&amp;#8221; fencing blocks. This particular block was found whilst walking to the supermarket from my home. My attention was drawn to the object due to the fact that it was broken, for some reason it had become split into two pieces across the point where a length of fencing would slot into the block. I imagine that as a result, the bollard could not perform its intended function and had become moved into the pavement, leaving a section of fencing unsupported and sagging. It seemed out of place and this is perhaps one of the reasons my attention was drawn to it. I picked it up, took it home and would eventually make a picture of it. This process of finding things to make pictures of is a relevant discussion of my practice, but it is also important to think about the level to which I might have been looking for this type of object, there may well have been lots of objects that for any number of reasons seemed out of place, but these where not photographed. It is not completely accurate to say I was looking for this object; the purpose of my activity at that moment was to walk to the supermarket and not to find something to photograph. It would be more suitable to think of finding this thing as a product of a premeditated practice that engages with the interaction between certain objects and my everyday activities. I am drawn to objects that have had specific functions – perhaps domestically associated –&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;and for some reason that has ceased to continue. The objects tend to have almost invisible or unnoticed functions when fully operational and it is only through their failure or removal from use that they gain attention. There are places to ‘look’ for these sorts of things: skips, alleyways, the edges of building sites, but these locations are only noticed through everyday activities and are not specifically sought out.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The engagement with a practice of making pictures creates a specifically tuned attention to my everyday environment, to a certain degree this is indirectly taking place all the time, though is not always fully conscious or intentional – though there is a point where I become aware of my attention - I might find that my gaze is cast across piles of discarded stones or rubble; looking into the driveways of houses that are being renovated for things moved out of the spaces they have occupied, into a liminal space, between their previous function and their position as waste. With this realisation of awareness I am reminded of my practice and brought back to the question of what defines the objects I select and photograph.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The event of a thing coming to my attention marks I point where I internally declare “this can be used to make a picture”, the object has the potential to be made into a picture, but this would be true whether I choose it or not.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Preparation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The thing found and brought into the home to have it’s picture made is not always used for the picture immediately. In this instance the object was placed on the floor of the porch of my house – this could be reasoned as not being fully inside, or outside the house – and was left there for a couple of weeks, attention casually drawn to it as I would pass into and out of the house whilst about my everyday activities. In writing this, I realise that the object was placed on the floor in a manner not to dissimilar to the position it would finally take in the photograph, perhaps suggesting that I was already aware of the form the object might take in the picture.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have since come across other objects that might be suitable for photographs and these also occupy a waiting position, either in the porch or lent up against the side of the house, they are approaching a separation from the environment they were found – loosely defined as &lt;em&gt;outside&lt;/em&gt; – and move towards the de-contextualised photographic space – &lt;em&gt;inside&lt;/em&gt; – they may at some point assume.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In this instance the making of the photograph of the bollard involved setting up a background in my studio space (in the second bedroom of my home) without entirely knowing what I would photograph. I would have the idea of the object in the porch at the back of my mind, but to a certain degree the background on this occasion would dictate the object that was to be photographed. Although in the final image it appears as though the centrally located object is privileged, I am very conscious that all of the photographic space, that is, the entire frame, cutting out a space has intention; there is little or no chance for the unintended to creep into the image. The picture is as much a photograph of the paper background as it is of the object at its centre. I am conscious of and wish to subtly draw attention to areas where the background does not lie flat, or shows kinks and cracks, although these are not to be the focus of the picture, or be principally focussed upon with the camera.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After making the choice to photograph this particular thing I undertook a process of cleaning the block. It was not scrubbed or rigorously cleaned or dirt but rather bits of debris were brushed off by hand. Thinking about this gesture brings me to the conclusion that the removal of extra matter (bits of dust and debris picked up from the ground, through its functional use) is intended to additionally decontextualise the object and reduces it to its principal form. The still, visual scrutiny of the photograph is likely to reveal more about the object than a fleeting relationship in the real, there becomes a potential to look at the object, perhaps small marks and scrapes might serve as signs for some previous use or the narrative of process. It is also important to note that the object was only ‘brushed down’ on the faces that would point to the camera. Further evidence of my formulating an idea of the image before the picture-making event occurs.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Transformation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The process of making the picture of the object is more difficult for me to question and describe. The small decisions made that determine a picture looks one way and not another are often carried out seemingly intuitively, but I can see that there are aspects of this practice that can be located within a wider set of art practices or forms of representation that ground the work within a set of assumed visual parameters. This practice of representing objects falls under the wide umbrella of still-life and this category dictates, to a certain extent what the picture will look like. This is partly governed by the field of view (how much space is projected by the picture) and the angle from which the object is to be “seen”. I am conscious that my practice operates, influenced by this realm and therefore I think I know a little of what the image will look like before even placing the object on the surface to be photographed. I am conscious of making an individual picture and how this could be read in its own terms, but also within the wider series and a research question. At the point of picking up the object to place it on the tabletop – which involves feeling its weight, shape and texture – begins a negotiation between the imagined potential images and the playing out of the making of the picture. I am not striving to make the picture that is in my head but simply to recognise the difference between this, how it looks on the table and how it looks when viewed through the camera and consequently how the factors that determine that a negative can be exposed and the picture made. I will only usually make one picture of each arrangement, which might seem a missed opportunity to explore the object and how it will make the “best” picture in relation to the background. The process of exploration occurs through my engagement with the camera, and (I am always happy that the image being made is the one that is suitable for this event – otherwise the picture is not made) rather than in looking at the potentially multiple images produced. However the single sheet of film that is exposed, is not an aesthetic exploration of a scene, but rather it becomes a document of this event of making a picture; further emphasising the valorisation of the process and the negotiation between the three transformative states which are passed through in its making. It might be the case that the exposure is calculated incorrectly and the picture will not come out suitably, this does not cause a problem for me as the object are retained and if I choose to I can make another picture, which might be different to the first. Once a photograph has been made the objects seem to change state, they become &lt;em&gt;my objects.&lt;/em&gt; Each has entered the domestic space, they become collected and must be organised. Objects wait to be stored on a shelf, or maybe put to use as a doorstop or something. Each can be recalled for another photograph&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;or other visual or practical attribute in a different type of picture.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ownership&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It can be argued that by taking a picture of a thing or a person, the photographer in some way has an ownership of that entity. She has captured its image as some body-less form; she can carry it around and reproduce a version of that thing as and when required. Here it feels a little different, or maybe there is something additional. The objects that I photograph become my objects, but only once the photograph has been taken. It is as though through the making of the picture, the object comes into existence. Clearly it exists before this takes place, yet the photograph has drawn attention to it and made it purposeful, or at least it is drawing attention to its potential purpose. Perhaps only through seeing an objects use is it “seen”. The object I have been talking about here; the piece of bollard, has been photographed once and currently sits on the floor of my studio. I know that as a part of this current practice I will not get rid of it, although I cannot fully explain why. I could return it to where it came from, or I could dispose of it and it will be remembered through the single image made using it ( or not at all). It is not something that will become an ornament, it does not have the appropriate qualities. In its industrial use it was a simple thing performing a simple task of keeping a section of metal fencing erect. Broken and moved into the domestic space it is a dead weight (a dead object), useful for propping things open, breaking things up and being occasionally glanced at. These objects I photograph tend to be categorised once the image has been made, but this is not done explicitly or meticulously. This loose ordering as they enter the domestic archive is to do with their shape and size, with particular groupings occupying the same place in the room. It is also to do with their potential for use in an attempt to be efficient as possible with matter. I know this is nothing about a care for the environment, nothing about not throwing things away. It is some kind of fetishisation of object efficiency. Knowing there is a great pleasure in needing something and knowing where that thing might be and if found and used, knowing that this is all as product of creating this archive of domestic ancillaries.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://attention-ownership.tumblr.com/post/6971618317</link><guid>http://attention-ownership.tumblr.com/post/6971618317</guid><pubDate>Mon, 27 Jun 2011 12:53:00 +0100</pubDate></item></channel></rss>
