I WANTED TO BE AN ARTIST BUT I GOT A CAREER INSTEAD:
Don’t have to build sculptures, I find ’em lying around,
scattered across cities, allies, tracks & fields, you
leave these cairns to mark your passing, dumped, ditched,
spattered, meticulously arranged, I follow where you leave.
Started as distraction from the boredom of waiting at bus stops
as a child, getting lost in minutia, the details & stuff
between the cracks in concrete & blacktop. Brutalist constructions,
ritual spaces, the red & white cones & poles of Navvies laying &
digging up roads. Industrial packaging, cardboard, sticky tape,
the marks accrued by passing through postal systems. Road markings,
tar, chalk, white & yellow lines. I have a piece of Cardiff in my
studio, a chunk of yellow painted inadvertently across a scrap of
card left lying in the gutter when parking restrictions were laid.
It languishes between the Pioneer CDJ’s & the Technics deck.
Art, squeezed between the tracks of a relentless groove.