Anthony Street, 2005.
The physical weight of the work to be taken upstairs was enormous. Each sculpture was a 4–6 meter long Hessian sack filled with wood shavings. It wasn’t until I started to move them that it dawned on me that I had essentially reconstituted trees.
Each trip into the space required a complex dance that involved passing through a sliding glass door that did not like to be held open. The turn to get up the stairs was tight. The timber needed to be angled over the balustrade, pushed up vertically, moved around the corner and then through.
I filled the small lift with tyre inner tubes. First move was to throw them through the sliding glass doors. Then kick them down the hallway and around the corner to the lift. Residential tenants stepped over them and around.
The lift doors were like the jaws of a mouth that would snap open and then close around the tyres. I had to try to keep my finger on the little round black button ‘UP’ while I kicked the inner tubes in. I filled each lift load until it was around waist high. Then pushed ‘1’ and closed myself into a tiny space crowded with the smell of black rubber.