Disambiguation
If you have arrived at this page from the 'Glitheroe - Girling Foolishness' disambiguation page then all you need to know is that the The Tea-chest Crawl Through Maze is not a piece of artwork and has no business being on these web pages at all.
If on the other hand you have arrived at this page from the 'Tea-Chest Crawl Through Maze' page then all you need to know is that the The Tea-chest Crawl Through Maze is not a piece of artwork and has no business being on these web pages at all.
I hope that information is helpful to you, meanwhile let me wish you a good day, and thank you so much for choosing to visit this site.
Hullo? Are you still here? Do you not have a home to go to?
What?
You want more information?
Really? Well, don't blame me.....
We'll have to start with Schopenhauer then.
So it was that once a week during the first year at art college a lecturer from the Philosophy Department would visit the Art College and conduct seminars on the subject of 'The Philosophy of Art'.
He would read a brief section of a piece by Schopenhauer on the subject of art (the title of which I have long since forgotten), then invite comments.
Week by week it became apparent that three of us would respond, while the rest sat silent, inanimate - waiting, presumably, for release from the sentence imposed upon them (Wajameen Igotta fink - Ididnukumta artcolej ter finkdidI?).
Now, let's be fair [I should perhaps say at this point that when I say 'Let's be fair...' etc, I don't mean it at all - I have absolutely no intention of being fair, that, I'm afraid, is complete baloney!] it is possible to imagine that their complete lack of animation was a communal artwork of such intensity and profundity that the mere idle chatterers - specifically the lecturer and the three (superficial and voluble) students - were the only persons present who did not comprehend the beauty, grace, sincerity and daringly innovate life-affirming artwork wherein each participant member mimics the intensely concentrated stillness of a large sack of potatoes engaged in Yogic meditation. [I only offer up this piece of nonsense so that I can declare, quite falsely, that I am being as fair as it is humanly possible to be.]
The truth of course is radically different - and I unhesitatingly offer up my constant, undimmed by time, admiration for those sacks of potatoes and their innovative, and I repeat life-affirming artwork in which with intense concentration each and every individual spud in a truly inspiring communal effort mimicked the bored vacuity of the average art student.
Week after week, seminar after seminar the pattern repeated - The lecturer read a paragraph of Schopenhauer, the same one, two or three of us would engage with the content, and - earning my undying admiration for their resolute adherence to the highest principles of art - the sacks of spuds reprised their magnificent ceaselessly static performance!
And then an unfortunate happenstance...
Something in the Schopenhauer prompted one of the three to ask a question - "How do you know what is art?"
Always pleased with an intervention, the lecturer responded with "Well, there are those who would say that anything an artist says is 'art' is 'art'.
It was obvious to me that the lecturer did not believe that definition was viable, but rather it was a useful prompt for further discussion.
I was also of the opinion (in view of the discussion which preceded it) that the question should have been 'How do you know who is an artist?', and indeed my fellow student immediately responded with -
"How do you know who is an artist?"
Even more clearly not believing the viability of the answer the lecturer responded with -
"Well, there are those who would say that anyone who gets up on their hind legs and declares themselves to be an artist is an artist."
And then the unfortunate happenstance happened - one (or perhaps more than one) of the potatoes in the sack seated just in front of me lost concentration. In any event, whether it was one or more at the start, the potatoes started to tremble then shift - oddly the movement in general was upward rather than downwards, and this I find hard to explain. One would reasonably expect a large quantity of potatoes in static balance to descend if the balance should be lost. Perhaps my senses misled me, perhaps the sudden animation caused a temporary confusion - in truth I cannot say, but my impression at the time was that for a reason inexplicable to me the phrase "Well, there are those who would say that anyone who gets up on their hind legs and declares themselves to be an artist is an artist." prompted the illusion that the sack was trying to get to its (non-existent) feet - almost as if the sack of potatoes was in fact an art student and not really a sack of spuds at all.
As this sack of spuds pretending to be an art student plays an unwanted but pivotal role in what follows I have no option but to include it in what follows. I have taken the decision not to use the real name of the sack of spuds - in the unlikely event that it wishes its name to be known then that would be a matter for the sack of spuds to decide.
For the purposes of this account I have chosen to name the sack of spuds as 'Nark' ('Nark' - as in 'annoy').
There was a time of innocence when 3D meant sculpture - I speak here of time before the abomination of 'INSTALLATION' o'erwhelmed the world, a time when the 'artist' - be they established or student - had the manual skill to sculpt.
A time of innocence - albeit sniggering innocence - when towards the end of the 2nd year the lads, sat around the canteen table, would lay non-monetary bets on which of the current 2nd year lasses would cop-out and do the 3rd year girls' bedroom.
For in those times the 3rd year girls' bedroom was a comparatively innocent thing - it was after all no more than a dry run at decorating, and decorating the home once married was the object in sight. Innocent enough, nobody fooled, no harm done!
['The average bedroom wall painted mid-tone beige is more aesthetically pleasing than the best 'art' efforts of 85-90% of 2D art students' - discuss.]
But that the 3rd year girls' bedrooms played such a prominent role in those innocent days was itself proof positive that 3D was avoided like the plague - anyone can scrawl a 'sketch' or slap on a few brush strokes AND get away with it. By contrast - in those days - there was still the concept that 3D had to 'work', and crucially that 3D involved 'work'.
I sympathised - alright, alright!
I sympathised, admittedly only slightly - what?
What?
I sympathised, admittedly only a very tiny amount, but I did sympathise - or very nearly sympathised anyway...
(Happy now?)
Poor blighters - the 3D lecturers have to justify their existence, and the only way to do that is by ensnaring poor students. I sympathise, truly - just not to the extent of doing 3D!
It was a group tutorial - the Head of 3D and perhaps ten of us.
I took along a number of my current or recent works, including
- - 
- - 
- - 
- - 
- I should have known better...
Like the desperate 'drowning' 3D apologist he was he latched onto my 2D illusions of 3D and tried to inveigle me into converting my illusions into actuality...
No, no, no (note - 'politely' but firmly), as I have the skill to create the appearance of three dimensions using only two dimensions why should I need to resort to 3 dimensions?
By making them in 3D I could reveal what is hidden out of sight (jaw dropping!)
All of the images to a lesser or greater degree have hints that something is there but out of sight - this is intent, not accident. They could be categorised as 'tease' images. The whole point is that what can't be seen is 'mysterious' - revealing would destroy that purpose. (Idiot! - Well I didn't actually say 'idiot', just thought it...)
Heels firmly dug in - this nonsense is going no further...
Just then another unfortunate happenstance happened -
The sack of spuds known as 'Nark', also present at that tutorial, metaphorically extended its tongue and vigorously administered a quantity of unction...
Writhing in a swamp of mutual smarm 3D and Nark decided that Nark and I would work on creating a 3D version of one of my images...
No, no, no...
The tortuous 'arguments' which followed have long since fled my memory (I'm glad to say), but I think the 'clincher' was along the lines that
Nark was exceptionally keen to do some 3D
Nark did not have the skill to replicate my type of work
It would be wrong for him to copy an idea from my work if I was not a party to it
Nark would benefit from working with me
The end of the tutorial was the end of the college day. Nark and I repaired to a local bar to discuss hows and whys.
Nark's unwanted enthusiasm was his only contribution.
In the process of formulating a design for a 3D piece which in some way proceeded from my 2D artwork a number of thoughts occurred.
During the previous academic year on the Foundation Course in Derby there had been a slide show presentation of a maze that had been built at an arts centre in Nottingham. This maze had sections of suspended 'walls' which could be remotely pivoted to change the layout of the passageways. I seem to remember that maze was lightless. The idea of moving sections suggested the possibility of a modular design, which in turn led me to the possibility of plastic or fibreglass as a material. Then the idea of an airy play area for young children made of interlocking modules.
Although I never voiced that latter idea I was not entirely surprised some years later to see exactly that kind of play area - in a sense it was an obvious idea begging to be done.
Taking a little from the Nottingham maze I decided the design should be something along the lines of 'The Haunted House' you might find at a fairground.
And sketched a small version along those lines - that design never saw the light of day.
The acquisition of materials would be problematic heading towards the end of term on a student grant. However I knew of a source of 'free' timber - it was about a quarter of a mile from the college.
I had passed the 'abandoned' house many times - the front door was open or gone, the windows were gone.
Early evening the following day we arrived with borrowed tools from the College workshop.
We had prised up a handful of floorboards when the police arrived. I explained what we were doing and why.
The police officer was polite and sympathetic, however he stated the obvious - whether the house had been 'abandoned' or not what was certain was that the floorboards were very definitely not our property. Therefore we were to leave them, and depart.
In the unlikely event that the police officer in question should read this and remember the incident I would like to thank him for the innate decency of his approach.
Perhaps 20 or 30 minutes later, having doubled back, we returned to the 'abandoned' house, tied the 'sourced' floorboards into a bundle, and carried them back to the College.
Three more things to be said regarding the 'sourced' floorboards -
1/ As we carried the 'sourced' floorboards towards the College we were passed by the police car - in the unlikely event that the police officers in the car should read this and remember the incident I would like to thank them for their innate decency in 'looking the other way'.
2/ The 'sourced' floorboards were used - for 'structural framing' - in the construction of what became the maze.
3/ The 'abandoned' house was a terraced house on the northern side of Nelson Street. Nelson Street lay between Toward Road and Salem Street, and between Peel Street and St. Vincent Street. Not too long after our 'sourcing' expedition the entirety of Nelson Street was demolished, to be replaced by Nelson Close, a large complex of housing for the elderly.
There were wood yards dealing in recycled timber, but even second-hand wood wasn't cheap. Then the idea of making use of tea-chests occurred to me.
Cheap tea-chests could be had from a tea warehouse in Newcastle.
And that was the start of the turning point in terms of my enthusiasm.
'Haunted House' was quickly dropped - the thin ply of tea-chests would not be robust enough. Casting back to the Nottingham maze I considered a miniature version along those lines - no, not that either. But what the Nottingham maze did prompt was 'Maze' - as opposed to structure - and darkness.
The tea-chests of course also prompted the return of the 'modular' idea, and the kids' play area concept. Instead of being some dull, dreary, pretentious 3D 'art' project it was going to be a bit of 'big kid' fun - oh, yes! My very own playpen!
At that point I hadn't worked out the details, but 'let's start with a 4x4x4 cube and go from there' set the ball rolling.
Sixty-four tea-chests were purchased from the Newcastle tea warehouse.
There was however a problem with tea-chests - they have metal strips along the edges, these strips being ragged in places. Also the nailing of the panels to the frame pieces tends to be 'approximate' - both points and heads can be found protruding haphazardly here and there. Nail points and ragged metal edges? Not a problem for the tea - big problem for a big kid like me.
The solution was a non-destructive dismantling of the chests, with panels, wood and nails to be reused. This, needless to say is tedious repetitive work.
I assumed the 'enthusiastic' Nark would put in a fair shift...
An entirely typical 'working day' for me on this task was
Start - around 9.00, work through to around 1.15
Lunch - around 1.15 to 1.45
Recommence - 1.45 to 5.30 or 6.00
By contrast Nark was far better organised - his typical working day was
Start - around 9.40
15 minute 'tea break' - 10.20 to 11.00
Recommence - 11.00 to 12.15
1 hour lunch break - 12.15 to 2.00
Recommence - 2.00 - 3.15
15 minute 'tea break' - 3.15 to 4.00
Recommence - 4.00 to 5.15
Tools down - 5.15
There was another contrast; I worked with a degree of 'careless' rapidity, Nark however worked with the millimetric caution of a brain surgeon - or to put it another way - and cast aside the sarcasm - from my point of view I regarded Nark as a bone-idle tosser.
By the end of the College term about half of the tea-chests had been dismantled. My opinion now as then is that at least three-quarters of that dismantling was done by me.
To summarise Nark's contribution;
Enthusiasm for a 3D project - 100%
Initiating concept - 0%
Design / elaboration - 0%
'Sourcing' timber from Nelson Street, idea - 0%
'Sourcing' timber from Nelson Street, actuality - 50%
Sourcing tea-chests, idea - 0%
Sourcing tea-chests, actuality - 50%
Dismantling tea-chests - circa 12%
At the end of term Nark departed.
And at that point Nark departs from the saga of the Tea-chest Maze. At the commencement of the autumn term I made no attempt to approach Nark, he made no attempt to approach me.
To repeat, his unwanted intervention during the seminar with the Head of 3D was pivotal in that the project was begun. However, that the project was wrenched away from being a pretentious piece of pretend art and made into a big bit of fun was entirely down to my imagination, personality and work ethic.
The first Monday morning of the vacation sees me signing on at the Employment Exchange - I think they were still so called in those days.
The previous three summers I had worked on building or construction sites - I was intending to do so again.
The chap on the other side of the counter sought to disabuse me -
"We have the highest unemployment rate in the country - you won't get a job here.
If there are any jobs going they will go to local men, particularly local men with families.
Just take it easy and enjoy the holiday."
Scouring the local paper and asking around over the next few days proved his contention was correct.
Over the first few days - after scouring and asking around - I returned to the College and moved all the accumulated material for the maze, which was stored under cover in the courtyard, down to the long studio whose windows looked out on Backhouse Park.
At this stage I was expecting that when Nark returned the 3D 'project' would resume - a way of getting this over and done with more quickly would be to finish the dismantling during the vacations.
During the process of dismantling I started to elaborate exactly how the maze should be constructed - at the start I had no thought of 'crawl through'. Looking at a 4x4 'wall' of yet to be dismantled chests I realised how small it was - a 'maze' in a 4x4x4 would be so laughably simple as to be pointless.
Once again the specifics of 'playpen' came to mind - crawling on hands and knees, ie two levels. Rough diagrams followed - still too easy! Four levels? C'mon that's pushing it?
Other thoughts - either there are few divisions and its 'easy' - too easy? More divisions, tighter, too difficult?
The very obvious penny drops - reconstruct the tea-chests and use them to make 'tunnels'!
A first attempt at a route is sketched. Three things are obvious - there have to be opportunities to 'get lost' in the maze, all changes of direction have to be navigable in both directions, and therefore trial tests are required.
I construct the entrance tunnel and the first change of direction. I try it out and it works fine, except that in the reverse direction I discover a major error - I don't like barbers!
Not liking barbers is not the error, but rather what follows from it - in doing a downward forward roll virtually all one's body weight comes to rest on one's shoulders, under which is trapped most of one's abundant long hair. Every millimetre of movement is excruciating.
Obvious solutions 1/ avoid 'downward forward roll changes of direction in the design' and 2/ hack the long hair off - self-administered 'crew cut' that very evening.
The elaborating and construction took on a life of their own, and by the end of the vacations nearly three-quarters of the maze was completed.
An interesting incident occurred during the first week of term.
I was lying sideways on top of part of the 2nd layer of tea-chests with my head and right arm inside a being constructed part of the adjoining 3rd layer when I was approached by a 3rd year student.
As he approached I withdrew my head from inside the 3rd layer.
He was the apparent leader of a group of four performers who were - if I remember correctly - known as 'Four Play'
The other lads with him - possibly the rest of 'Four Play' stayed some way back as he informed me that he wanted me to move my maze to a different location.
I told him that I was quite content with its current location.
He repeated, a touch more forcefully, that he wanted me to move the maze.
Again I stated my satisfaction with where it was.
I had a claw hammer lying on top of the of the 2nd layer. He picked this up and started to threaten me with it, now demanding that I move the maze.
Again I assured him that I was quite content with where it was.
He continued to glare down as he held the claw hammer above me.
After perhaps twenty or thirty seconds the glare faded, he stepped away, placed the claw hammer back on the 2nd layer, and retreated to talk to his pals.
'If he comes back mob-handed I'd better pick up the hammer myself' I thought.
He did come back, but on his own. I don't think he apologised. He did however say he was puzzled that I hadn't been intimidated when threatened with the hammer.
My cue - "That's easy, what I know and you don't..." I said, swinging my legs off layer two and bringing my right shoulder, arm, fist and 2nd claw hammer into view "...is that I've got two hammers."
Suddenly 'little boy lost' "Aw, you didn't really think I'd hit you, did you?"
He and his pals retreated.
Perhaps half an hour later another 3rd year student appeared.
She apologised on behalf of her would-be 'knight in shining armour', but she was desperately in need of the space occupied by my maze for her 3rd year degree project. (My opinion is that she had already 'sold her soul to the devil' - for the space in question would be perfect for a 3rd year girls' bedroom!)
Before her incipient tears began to descend I assured her that I would move it out of the dog-leg and into the middle of the studio if it could be moved without suffering damage. In fact it was much easier to move than I would have expected, and no frailties in the structure emerged in the process.
Another interesting incident in connection with the maze occurred. I wasn't there at the time, but one of the lecturers told me about it later.
A senior lecturer from a prominent London college (if I remember correctly it was Chelsea School of Art) had been sent up to Sunderland to assess the quality of the Fine Art course.
Having toured the college studios this senior lecturer commented on the 'complete absence' of art in the college save only for my maze. My maze, according to this clown, was the 'only piece of art in the entire college'.
Observable fact - most Fine Art students have no interest in art, no talent in art, but the careers adviser had advised them "Well, you could always do Fine Art."*
My opinion - no, my observed wisdom - around 10% of Fine Art students have an interest and an ability in Art. In a year group of fifty students around 4, 5 or 6 will be the 'real deal'.
In a college with a full 3 year cohort that would mean from between 12 to 18 students. Or let me rephrase that and say 12 to 18 'artists in the making already demonstrating genuine artistic ability'.
It takes a level of idiocy or wilful 'blindness' not to see the gems standing out from the dross, and it takes wilful pretentiousness to mistake a harmless bit of fun utterly devoid of any form of aesthetic value for a piece of Art.
* And it is an observable fact that as the years pass a higher and higher percentage of art college lecturers are drawn from the ranks of the "Well, you could always do Fine Art." characters.
Writing this page nearly half a century after the events a thought came to mind with a 'Why didn't I think of it at the time?'
Jim Stoker was one of my fellow students on the Fine Art course. He was a mature student who had previously worked as a coal miner.
I asked him why he had decided to become an art student.
He said that one day working at the coal face he started thinking about the millions of tons of rock above his head, and decided he'd rather not go down there again.
He said he wanted to learn to draw faces, and to be able to draw them quickly - his aim was to earn a living doing rapid portrait sketches at markets and fairs.
So the thought - 'Why on Earth did I not think to buttonhole Jim and ask him to test out my maze?'
Easy to be wise after the event.
I've no idea whether Jim managed to achieve his ambition to become a quick portrait merchant, but I sincerely hope he did.
Another decades after the events disambiguation labyrinth...