People's Objects

For the research project of my MA studies at Goldsmiths University (London, 2019-2020), I began exploring personal objects with the motivation to deepen my understanding of myself and the spaces, people and materials that comprise my environment. The outcome was a collection that captures moments of connections within the constant movement of people and things, which I perceive as inseparable.

In this project my engagement with objects was wrapped around other people’s specific choices. I invited my fellow students in the MA program of Arts and Learning to choose a ‘live’ object, in the sense that it held meaning for them, from within their familiar environment, but came to see that it is the very act of choosing that is alive. Through it, familiar objects that may have become invisible over time could be re-examined through the perception of another person, which made them 'alive' again by being available to take on new meanings.

I responded to each of the objects I received through the gaps that exist between their materiality, meaning and context where new connections could be made to them. Acts of holding, observing, tying, wrapping and sewing the objects, which were established parts of my making practice, were joined with WhatsApp and phone conversations, or a journey to choose the right kind of textile with a natural colour and a soft feeling to wrap the objects before giving them back. This further expanded my understanding of the process of making and injected it into my daily life experiences as part of my communication with the world around me.

Initially, the movement of exchange occurred between participants’ individual spaces and the shared learning space of our university. Even though I managed to return most of the objects to their owners while we were still regularly meeting in person, I chose to wrap them tightly with fabric and string, as if to implement the notion of the anthropologist Arjun Appadurai of the "unruliness of the world of things", and prepare them for the continuation of their journey.

Using an erasable marker designed for sewing purposes, in case I wanted to make any changes, I wrote a message to each participant in which I described my experience with them and asked for participants to re-place them in their individual spaces. Shortly after, our learning and living conditions changed dramatically and the possibility of physically sharing spaces and experiences was thrown into doubt. In continuing conversations with participants, I was surprised to discover my words changed anyway, and had disappeared from the textile wrapping, leaving a trace of ink and memory.

Kathy’s fez was the last object I had within my physical space, after it had travelled with me from London to Israel and back. The thought of sending it away suddenly seemed intimidating but I decided to let it go and allow its movement to continue; I sent it to Kathy by mail, where it was lost. In a phone conversation with the customer service of Royal Mail I was asked how much the lost fez was worth. Trying to answer these practical questions, I was faced with the complexity of the multi-layered situation of art and life. After a moment of confusion and rapid consideration of materials, sentiments, time and context I replied “it is worth ten pounds”.

From the living room of the apartment where I stayed in London, in which I spent most of my time alone during the days of lockdown due to COVID-19 in 2020, I faced the question of what is left when objects and people are no longer physically present? 

I covered the floor with materials I have collected during the year of reasearch; textiles, objects, prints, threads, tape. None of them are new and they all hold meaning, bringing to mind other places, people and past interactions. I spread sheets of tracing paper inscribed with my handwritten descriptions of objects I received;  these sheets which were the surface for their presentation in the seminar room and indicate their specific location on top of it. I spread a transparent sheet of textile on the sheets, and began tracing the words using the erasable marker, this time knowing it would disappear in a few days. In the context of my research, an act that will no longer be visible in a few days, beyond its documentation, is given meaning by the material’s ability to hold the traces of the action, which holds the traces of objects, which hold the traces of people.