Mercer Union - 0.001 percent volume
(enamoured + armour = enarmoured) + (euphoria + phobia = euphorbia)
enarmoured euphorbia is an interactive wall socket/outlet. If the viewer touches the wires,a little childs voice (a plundered sound file from the web) exclaims "i love you".by participating with the work in this manner, the viewer completes the circuit. comprised of a hacked mp3 player, button override circuit, 8ohm amplifier & speaker, and wall socket parts, this seemingly dangerous aparatus unexpectedly and anonymously embraces the viewer upon engagement. at work in enarmoured euphorbia is a kind of co-dependant relationship between artist, object & particpant/viewer. without the viewers engagement, there leaves nothing but implied danger, leaving the artists and objects relationship devoid of human interaction and in a state of missing something, someone. this is one of many of what myfanwy ashmore calls her "missing machines".
Printed from NOW Magazine Online Edition
All and nothing
By THOMAS HIRSCHMANN
This week there's nothing, every- thing and the far less satisfying something that lies in between the two extremes. Nothing is the exhibition 0.001 Percent Volume at Mercer Union . Quite literally, the gallery appears to be empty. Nothing but white walls as far as the eye can see. It's a very Seinfeld curatorial concept, and like the hit TV show, nothing has its rewards. True to the show's title, the gallery contains a tiny amount of art: dust on a floor, a pin in a wall and two wires poking out of an outlet.
The dust comes courtesy of Levin Haegele , and it glows in the gallery's darkened back room. A thin layer records the footsteps of those who have previously shuffled across its surface. A trail of the dust leaves through the doorway, announcing that those who entered also left, taking some art with them on the soles of their shoes. The dust is intended to remain on your shoes, glowing once again in the darkness of your closet.
Too bad the spring thaw is conspiring against this.
Myfanwy Ashmore 's small piece takes the form of a plug sticking out of an outlet, with two wires poking out of its severed end. When you touch the two wires together (no, you won't get electrocuted), a short sound file is activated and a child's voice proclaims its love for you. It's funny how such a tiny piece, with its tiny voice, can make a nearly empty room seem full.
Scottish artist Ben Woodeson 's piece is the most difficult of the three. If you don't read the program, you're unlikely to find it, and even less likely to get it. A single dressmaker's pin has been inserted into a wall, like a pin on a map. What does it mark? Well, sound, really. If you stare at it, the buzz of the electrical currents in the gallery becomes very distinct, as if everything were flowing through that pin. A lot is going on in what looks like Mercer Union's empty space
NOW Magazine Online Edition, VOL. 23 NO. 27 Mar 4 - 10, 2004 Copyright © 2004 NOW Communications Inc. story link: art_reviews.php