Sam Meredith

Sam Meredith

Sam Meredith, Crevice.
Sam Meredith, Crevice.

I saw the top of a blue plastic bag poking out of a hole in a large hollowed out tree trunk, upon closer inspection I saw how humans had been stuffing it full of rubbish to the point a plastic bottle had even fallen out the other end. The trunk was bursting at the seams with litter. It made me think about the potential for objects to be stashed in crevices and how in this instance the tree serves a new function. One that is at odds with its natural reason for being. 

I have been watching tutorials recently on making improvised birdhouses and I like the idea of making something that brings solidarity with the non-human to the foreground. Objects that sink into their surroundings, situated in places to avoid human contact and offer comfort and shelter. I hope that these objects become all kinds of things to all kinds of beings, a landing strip for a fly, a pit stop for a squirrel, a nest for a bird or a surface for dust and dirt to collect on. 

The sun had just gone down and the park was quiet except for the distant bells of the park ranger signaling it was time for all to leave. I sized up a premium log from the freshly cut tree and lifted it hastily, it carried more weight than I thought and the bark scraped my hand a little. The log is coming home, to be worked on, then after some time will be returned to the park. The install will take place under the cover of darkness.

 

 

Comments are closed.