THE DISPOSABLE FOREVER
The under and through and up.
The piercing to mend.
Passed on and by hand
My grandmother taught me.
I think of her in a chair
By the open window
The TV on
The sea and the street parallel threads outside.
This memory is one of my homes.
I have her thread with me.
And a small patch of liberty fabric as a needlecase.
We have been stitching the word FOREVER onto disposable material. The word in a contradictory state – on material that might never biodegrade (plastic), or will (paper) .
Our body action is to discard these things: plastic and paper that encloses our food or holds our drink and plates our pizza, that wipes up after us. That frames and packages our lives into meaning and convenience.
When do we say “Forever?”
What is the fabric of place and time?
We have also been leaving it for the public. Live art. Art drops. Interventions. Quiet, slow questioning. Private musings made public. You can touch it and pick it up.
You can take it home
Loo paper, plastic glad-wrap, tissues, plastic bags, paper plates, plastic cups
We even tried it on food ( a meringue). The plastic wrap is beautiful spread on a window. It can hold one in a little spell.