Week 38: 27 May 2012
Director, Situations, creative producers of Nowhereisland
Sixty days of waiting
Waiting for things to heat up.
Waiting for the ice cap to groan and fracture though no one is listening.
Waiting for sea levels to rise and islands to emerge though no one is watching.
Waiting breathlessly for the earth to move.
Waiting for the erratic rocks to go home.
Waiting to break away.
Waiting to emigrate, migrate, cogitate, deliberate.
Waiting for secession, agitation, provocation, rendition.
Waiting to ‘pass freely without let or hindrance, and to be afforded such assistance and protection as may be necessary’.
Waiting for three hours at passport control.
Waiting for four hours to go on the telly to talk about waiting for three hours at passport control.
Waiting for the fatted calf to be cooked, the kettle to boil, cakes to rise, arms to be opened.
Waiting to belong.
Waiting to be local.
Waiting to look like everyone else.
Waiting for the sound of the entry stamp as it hits your passport.
Waiting to fit in.
Waiting to be found.
Waiting to get lost.
Waiting to sound a discordant note, to raise one’s hand, to sit at the front of the bus.
Waiting for free speech.
Waiting for fair trade.
Waiting for free trade.
Waiting for the free market.
Waiting for free stuff.
Waiting for the oil to run out.
Waiting for the taps to run dry.
Waiting for the birds to stop singing.
Waiting for the right to roam.
Waiting for the right to occupy.
Waiting for the 1%.
Waiting for Plan B.
Waiting for Britain to get fixed, broke not broken, he says.
Waiting to protect and survive.
Waiting to keep calm and carry on.
Waiting for a bit of peace and quiet.
Waiting for Free Taiwan, Free Palestine, Free Kosovo and Free Tibet.
Waiting for Free Ice Cream on Fridays.
Waiting to hoist the flag.
Waiting in line, in the heat and dust, to vote for the first time.
Waiting in line, with a plastic flag, and a plastic cup of warm lucozade, to wave at a moving flame, or a monarch, or the special branch helicopter circling above.
Waiting for someone to notice the state we’re in.
Waiting for someone else to do something about it.
Waiting for the revolution.
Waiting at the start.
Waiting for the whistleblower.
Waiting to win.
Waiting for gold.
Waiting for frankincense and myrrh.
Waiting to be saved.
Waiting to begin again.
Waiting for a Brave New World.
Waiting for Nutopia.
Waiting for an impossible future.
Waiting to move mountains, float islands, bury woodsheds, pour concrete, swap sods, buy odd-lots, intervene, interject, dislocate, secede, displace and question, what if?
Waiting for the artists to lead.
Waiting for Nowhereisland.
Claire Doherty is a curator and writer and founder Director of Situations, a visual arts commissioning and publishing organisation based in Bristol. Situations are the creative producers of Nowhereisland.
Over the past ten years, Situations has been responsible for artworks which open up new and surprising encounters in the public realm: from-off artistic interventions (such as Heather and Ivan Morison’s Black Cloud now installed at the Hepworth, Wakefield) to cumulative programmes of temporary commissions such as One Day Sculpture, New Zealand. Claire has written and lectured extensively on contemporary art commissioning. Her books include Contemporary Art: From Studio to Situation (Black Dog Publishing, 2004); Situation (Whitechapel/MIT Press, 2009), Locating the Producers: Durational Approaches to Public Art (2010) and the forthcoming Out There: The new public art producers (2012).
Claire considers here the sixty days prior to the arrival of Nowhereisland on 25th July in Weymouth.