The images below show my visit to the local riverbank; I’d arranged colour coordinated stones to make a loosly-based eye shape. In the past I hadn’t noticed how many beautifully-shaped stones there are around. The rocks were temporary art in themselves; constantly being shaped by erosion. I visited the same spot a few days later to see what the recent, mild winds had made of the arrangement. Of course, my art work had survived the weather, but perhaps not the local kids, who had clearly destroyed the pattern and snapped the eyebrow-like twig in two places. Temporary art, indeed.
For my second temporary art experiment, I sprinkled a small pile of glitter on a plain piece of A4 paper and made patterns with my forefinger. It reminded of something I saw on Art Attack years ago; Neil Buchanan poured salt over black flooring and created the image of a dragon using only his hands. This experiment was child-like and fun, but I also found it marginally frustrating as the glitter didn’t always move to the direction it was nudged -it remained static on parts of the paper.
The last experiment involved hair and product. Hair is a form of art and, in almost every case, the style is temporary. I ran my fingers though my hair for a couple of seconds and took photos of the eight changes that it had gone through within a matter of minutes. The results were arguably fashionable.
It took me quite a while to get started on the warm-up exercise. Mainly because I’ve dabbled in these kind of exercises before and have never found them particularly appealing. In other words, I put off the task. I think temporary art is usually at it’s best when created on a subconscious level. Something like being bored in an office and arranging paperclips in well-ordered patterns, or perhaps using your forefinger to draw images on a steamed mirror after bathtime. On occasions, my bedroom floor often appears to resemble some kind of temporary, conceptual art.