venue arts supplement
waste
CONTENTS
C O N T R I BU TO R S Chelsea Purcell Murray Lewis Sara Lapinova Kate Romain Dougie Dodds Harry Mener Niamh Jones Sophie Chapman Alexandra Parapadakis Hugo Douglas-Deane Ella Finch Emily Mildren Sarah Hudis Mary Dodds
W
elcome to Waste, the VENUE art supplement. We’ve filled it with all of UEA’s creative writing talent, from fantastic illustrators, to creative writers, and littered with interesting articles all about waste in its many forms. Join us on the 10th March at 18:30 in Bookable Room 6 for our exhibition of all the work, complete with an open mic from 19:00. Thank you to all who have contributed, it’s been amazing to see everything you’ve created.
01 02 03 05 06 07 09 10 11 The Space Man
Crab-Cola
Make Art Not Landfill
by Chelsea Purcell
by Murray Lewis
by Sara Lapinova
Buy, Spend, Consume
A Rubbish Tree
The Cosmic Gift Shop
by Kate Romain
by Dougie Dodds
by Harry Menear Art by Niamh Jones
Eyelash & Wasting Not
Waste Not
Do You Think?
by Sophie Chapman & Alexandra Parapadakis
by Ella Finch
by Emily Mildren
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Planetary Obsolescence by Sarah Hudis
E D I TO R S Niamh Jones
Kate Romain
Dougie Dodds
Hugo Douglas-Deane
Emily Mildren
THE SPACE MAN BY CHELSEA PURCELL
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My piece recreates the iconic photograph of the Moon Landing which influenced the world. In my recreation, like the moon landing photograph, my work should too influence you. My inspiration for this piece was the issue of climate change, and how we as a society contribute to that by placing huge amounts of rubbish into our Earth every year. Green Peace, and many others, try to keep on top of this, which is shown by the astronaut climbing the huge pile of rubbish in order to place the Green Peace flag on the top.
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This image was selected for cover art because it is a bold image that encompasses the theme of waste beautifully.
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Every year the UK creates 100 millions tonnes of waste: it takes us each just seven weeks for us to discard our body weight in waste. Though our recycling habits have improved, waste is still being thrown into landfill sites that could be turned into something useful. The UK recycles only 17% of the waste it produces, comparatively low to some of our EU neighbours, who recycle up to 50% of their waste. Soon we will run out of space, at least on Earth.
Art by Murray Lewis With the increase of plastic in the seas little hermit crabs like this are forced to find homes in human rubbish. They use our waste to survive, adapting to become reliant on the polution we create.
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MAKE
ART NOT
LANDFILL
E
nvironmentalism and art have been interconnected since the 19th century realist movement. The movement confronted the notion that art carries purely aesthetic value, and advocated the use of art as a tool for raising awareness of the destructive impact humanity can have on the world. Art has maintained a strong link to socio-political issues, and therefore it is not surprising that one of the most prominent aspects of the sustainability agenda, namely, recycling and waste, have been adopted by numerous artists around the world. Both ecologists and artists strive to challenge the meaning of waste, and to treat waste as a resource, rather than an encumbrance. Eco art differs from other art movements in that it lacks a distinct style. Unlike the sleek elegance and luxurious feel of art deco or the boldness of pop art, eco art is one that comes in many different shapes and forms, such as fine art, installation
We recycled our very own robot (fondly christened ‘Frank’) for the art supplement last year, and have ‘recycled’ him for Waste. We made him out of cardboard boxes the union shop threw out, skip-diving to create what has quickly become the Concrete office mascot.
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art, fashion or interactive art. What draws eco artists into the same category is not similarity in aesthetic, but the inherent and distinctive message the art carries. Eco art not only raises awareness of sustainability, but also discourages the notion of art as an upper class medium as it weaves culture with affordability and reutilization. Estelle Akamine, artist and fashion designer, recycled simple bubble packs and foam sheet into high fashion. She stated that “people can easily reject a sculpture because it can be too elitist for the common person. Through my clothing, I hope that I inspire people to realize that recycling can be beautiful and useful’’. Thus, eco artists are promoting waste as the ultimate sustainable, ethical and affordable resource for creation. The popularity of waste as art has expanded into modern academic disciplines which have been instigated into an elective concentration for Bachelor of Fine Arts students at both Otis College of Art and
Design and the Maryland Institute College of Art in 2012. Hugh Pocock, founder and coordinator of the concentration, stated that ‘’art students regularly ask themselves, ‘what is my art for? Why am I making art? Is it simply to have my art follow a trajectory from studio to art gallery to buyer?’ In this program, we are looking to raise the bar and bring into the conversation issues of social, political and ecological justice’’. Waste artists are slowly adopting a more pragmatic role in our society, and are being approached by companies such as IKEA to help incorporate an eco-friendly lifestyle into everyday life. IKEA’s article ‘’Make Recycling Fun (For the Whole Family)’’ features a ‘’fun recycling station’’ with a step by step guide to help you create your own recycling robots using IKEA products. A motivating article on how to reuse old furniture, making art not only decorative, but interactive and sustainable.
WORDS BY SARA LAPINOVA SCULPTURE BY NIAMH JONES AND DOUGIE DODDS
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BUY
SPEND
CONSUME BY KATE ROMAIN
The Consumer Monster is the antithesis of Make do and Mend. With it’s many arms, heads and mouths, it represents the greed of society, that we are so quick to keep purchasing, consuming, and how this attitude leads to the creation of waste.
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This illustration can be a hopeful image, or a depressing one, depending on what angle you view it from. Try flipping the page upside down: you see the rubbish flourishing from nature. Keep the page the right way up to see nature triumphing over human wastage.
BY DOUGIE DODDS
FIRST
THE
AND LAST
C O S M I C GIFTSHOP BY HARRY MENEAR
T
he lights are brighter than ever tonight; an Endless indigo blanket; diamonds spilled and scattered,wider than the edges of the eye. The cacti crack open Pabst Blue Ribbons and watch the sky. The lights are brighter than ever tonight. Roswell, New Mexico. Population: 48,611. Area code: 575 ... The number you are calling is currently unavailable, please hang up, give up, don’t try again. She switches on the sign - Fizz, zap and hummmmm… goes the ancient neon - pink-green-gold-blue-pink-red-pink.... Flap, clunk and creak, goes the old folding deck chair. She rustles the pages and, under her breath, under the lights that are brighter than ever tonight: Come and get ‘em while they’re hot, rhyme rhythm and verse for all, contributions voluntary, all currencies accepted The sign screams into the night. The Patrice Martinez Cicada Show Band of New Mexico counts off and jams, ragging and riffing through the same old songs. The conductor waves his legs. Everybody waves their legs. Babumcha-be-boo-doo-tsss … Clap along cacti. Snick. Goes her big tall Arnold Palmer. SlurpWhooosh… Just a car. Settle down. No one’s come before; no reason they’ll come
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tonight… But... The lights are brighter than ever tonight. Behind razorwire and chainlink and the tumbleweed guards they dance, swooping back-forth-up-down-around again, all for her amusement she thinks. Condensation from the can clings to her hand, ink bleeds when you touch its paper; into to the discount bargain - BARGAINS SO GOOD THEY’RE OUT OF THIS WORLD - bin they go. Can’t expect full price if it’s smudged and soggy. She refolds her legs, can in hand - Slurp - and returns to putting pen to page, pinning down her world for the consumption of the tourists: the first cosmic gift shop - in this state or any other. This little one’s about a boy from another world - Ohio to be exact. He meets Quargleflorb (try finding something that rhymes with Quargleflorb) on Christmas eve. He takes him inside and shows him the stockings and the milk and the carrots and all the presents jumbled up beneath the tree. Quargleflorb smiles and drinks his eggnog and gets in his ship to go home where he tells everyone on *&JUI#6 about the warrior people of Earth and how they decorate the corpses of their enemies with trinkets and baubles and display them in their homes to mark their victories in bloodthirsty conquest. By an unfortunate coincidence, Quargleflorb’s neighbouring
planet - which by another coincidence is called Steve - is populated entirely by a benevolent race of creatures who, in addition to being great lovers of art, music and interpretive dance, also bear a striking resemblance to Douglas Firs. Overcoming our cultural differences is the key, she thinks. Slurp - Pen down, eyes up. The lights are still dancing. She’s sitting on the roof of her father’s convenience store, beaming into the night. Downstairs her dad - also a Steve - sells a man in a cheap suit the biggest cup of coffee they have. The man is CIA, maybe FBI, CDC, ABCDEFHI - definitely not a Steve, but who can say, really? He’s tired, eyes red raw from keeping the white line snugly on his left tire for two hundred miles. Not far to go now to the crash site. He doesn’t believe. He will. Red lights nod goodbye to the speedbumps. Thank you for leaving Roswell, drive carefully. You never know what might happen. She shifts in the chair, in the warmth of the glow, under the endless indigo night, scattered with little jewels. Some of them might be headlights. There are no tail lights in endless indigo night. Welcome to Earth. Stay awhile. And please, folks, don’t forget to visit the gift shop on your way out. She sits on a ragged old deck chair on the roof of her father’s convenience store. Neon light flickers all around her, and she looks only at the sky or at the page. Another tan Ford Taurus pulls in for coffee and gas on the way to believe. She reaches for another iced tea. Tap tap tap goes the pen on the armrest of her chair. Indigo fades to black. The lights are brighter than ever tonight.
Art by Niamh Jones
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EYELASH SOPHIE CHAPMAN I lash out as the hair falls from cheek to cheek uncovered vessels to host the bodies unwanted waste another man’s treasure? the hair fall into the earth surrounded by brutes with language only of their own truth is not discovered it is taught and as the world speaks in tongues women are silenced when will it be their treasure too?
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Photos by Hugo Douglas-Deane
WASTING WHAT ALEXANDRA PARAPADAKIS Wrap my legs around your waist to unwrap your chest but find nothing there, you’re a waste of space. “Wait”, you say. But your lips, that tongue spit toxic waste which melt me away, in the weight of your words words, words! Just words! Is that your way of trying to say that our love is wasting away?
Art by Ella Finch
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PLANETARY OBSOLESENCE SARAH HUDIS
it’s like how spiders aren’t as threatening in the corner of the room a man in yellow throws translucent bags among the grunge and your iPhone has a two year life expectancy and you haven’t called in two days it’s like the thing is I need new shoes if I want to be taken seriously at this job and how it hasn’t snowed this winter except now it has and the council are in a stand-off with the Jake The Named Storm who’s actually from London but he owns a holiday cottage in Wales it’s like how woman is synonymous with Needs To Lose Weight and thighs can be synonymous with We’re Running Out Of Oil and the bin lorry isn’t any less of a mouth because it’s a cliché and I fill the kettle to the top Photography by Mary Dodds Facing Illustration by Emily Mildren
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