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4. Points of View
On Cold Dark Matter
Jonathan Watkins, Director of Ikon Gallery, Birmingham
( Exhibitions Organiser at Chisenhale Gallery, London when the work was exhibited there in 1991)
'Cold Dark Matter: An Exploded View (1991) is composed of the ragged fragments of a garden shed, which was blown up by the British Army for the artist Cornelia Parker. It was a carefully orchestrated event that took place in the grounds of the School of Ammunition near Banbury.'
'Previously the shed had been assembled in Chisenhale Gallery, in London's East End. It was filled with objects that the artist had gleaned from her own and friends' garden sheds and (the universal depository for unwanted things) car boot sales. It was photographed in the gallery, exactly at the place where the work would be first exhibited, then dismantled and taken away to be blown up.'
'The artist's choice of a garden shed, with the contents that one might typically find there, is particularly significant in the light of other works by her, such as Thirty Pieces of Silver (1988) (steamrollered silver plate), and Matter and What it Means (1989) (silver coins run over by a train). In these two earlier works there is a stronger reference to social ritual, wheras the choice of subject matter in Cold Dark Matter suggests a more personal world, populated by a much wider variety of objects, objects which have a certain modesty and/or sentimental value.'
'The garden shed is a sort of halfway house, an overspill for things which, for whatever reason, aren't as wanted or needed as they once were. It is like the attic or the space underneath a staircase. A terribly British institution, the shed functions as a place of refuge, a safe place, a place for secrets and fantasy. By blowing up the shed Parker is taking away such a place, throwing doubt on all it represents. Its contents are revealed, damaged in the process and yet somehow more eloquent. We get an 'exploded view' which creates a vast new space for our own mental activity. We are being asked to confront some cold dark matter, which equally could be a factor in a universal equation, or some unnerving psychological state.'
'The army is an institution, there for our security - to rescue us if necessary. That Cornelia Parker should have its co-operation is another extraordinary and important aspect of Cold Dark Matter. That the army was engaged in the process of making this work is nothing if not poignant. Watching a garden shed meet its cruel fate in the middle of a demolition field, from a bombproof bunker at a safe distance, was like witnessing an absurd execution and profoundly moving in the light of all that the shed could mean. At the same time, of course, it was comic, reminiscent of cartoon disasters. This explosion was real and destructive - as the results testified - but our reaction is further complicated by an appeal to a sense of humour derived from popular fiction. We are caught in a swing between emotional extremes as we consider the implications of a collision between the traces of personal life and an unstoppable outside force.'
Formation Processes
Colin Renfrew (Professor Lord Renfrew of Kaimsthorn)
Disney Professor of Archaeology, McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, Cambridge University
'Cold Dark Matter is a mind-blowing series of transformations. Of course every artwork is the product of a creative process, but detonation by explosive does seem a shade decisive! Yet as an archaeologist I am very much aware that the material remains which we find from earlier days are fragmentary, often buried in the ground, and that what was once a building a palace or a hut is uncovered by the excavator in distressed condition, the result of the passing of the centuries, and accompanied : the fragments of pottery, the bits of corroded metal, the decayed artefacts of wood or bone which represent what is left of the material culture of that period. We archaeologists have a name for the transformations by which what were once viable buildings and useful artefacts in the hands of the people who made and used them become buried in fragmentary condition below ground: 'formation processes'. Cornelia Parker has used some very decisive formation processes in the course of this transformation from garden shed to her evocative installation of shattered fragments, creating an impression which carries with it so many symbolic overtones.'
'I admire too the transformation wrought by the title: what might be seen simply as suspended debris lit by a single light bulb is changed in the blink of an eye into a vision of the cosmos, of a galaxy suspended in outer space, of the dreamworld of the radio astronomer. Echoes of the Big Bang.
'For me there is another echo. When I went to see Cold Dark Matter in the inaugural display at the Tate Modern, I had been thinking about that astonishing pioneer of modern art, Marcel Duchamp, and his 'Readymades'. I had in mind one of his photographic works: Shadows of Readymades (1918). The shadows on the wall, cast by that single light bulb in Cold Dark Matter took on a new significance, strongly resembling the Duchamp work. You can imagine that the shadows themselves are the end-product of the work (as in the Duchamp photo). If you imagine that they, and they alone are what you are expected to see, another transformation takes place, anticipated more than two thousand years ago by the Greek philosopher Plato in his 'Parable of the Cave'. He speaks about the human condition and the senses, where all that we as humans see or know of the real world beyond are just the shadows cast upon the walls of the cave in which we are condemned to live.'
Cold Dark Matter
Major (retired) Doug Hewitt, Senior Instructor, Army School of Ammunition
'When a colleague from headquarters called saying he had received a request from an artist who wanted a garden shed blown up, I thought it was the beginning of an elaborate hoax. I remained sceptical when a follow-up call arranged a meeting with the artist and her team. I was at that time a Senior Instructor at the Army School of Ammunition. My job was to train specialists of the British Army in the disposal of conventional, biological and chemical munitions (bomb disposal).'
We met at the officers' mess on a sunny summer afternoon. I remember sitting out on the patio where Cornelia and her team outlined their ideas over cold drinks. It took only a few minutes for my scepticism to be dispelled. I found myself caught up in their enthusiasm and this was to continue throughout the project.'
'It was difficult to make any firm plans until I had seen the shed assembled with the contents in place. The challenge for me was to arrange the explosives in such a way as to achieve the disintegration of the shed (easy), while distressing and distorting as many of the items as possible without destroying them (more difficult). Also, the amount of explosive couldn't exceed the safe limit for the site we were to use and I didn't want to disperse the contents of the shed over too large an area as we had to collect them afterwards. Cornelia showed me a photograph of the intact shed, taken when it was on display in a white painted room at the Chisenhale Gallery. The shed was illuminated by a single bare light bulb hanging from the middle of the roof. My immediate thought was that the source of the explosive energy had to emanate from the same point.'
'A removal van arrived. Cornelia's associates and my instructional staff assembled the shed and Cornelia positioned an amazing array of objects gathered from various sources, including car boot sales. A photographer, Hugo, was there to record the moment. He positioned his cameras and we built protective sandbag walls to shield them from the explosion. I moulded approximately two pounds of plastic explosive into a sphere to represent the light bulb and give shape to the detonating wave, and suspended it from the shed roof. Almost everyone retired to the safety of a splinter-proof shelter. Hugo and I took cover at a safe firing point closer to the explosion. I connected a detonator to the electrical firing circuit and inserted it into the plastic explosive. After a count down to allow Hugo and others to trigger their cameras, I pressed the firing button and the resulting explosion disintegrated the shed and scattered the contents over not too wide an area - a great success. We all mucked in to gather the debris, loaded up the removal van and the team left.'
'I was stunned when some months later I walked in to the Chisenhale Gallery and saw the final installation. The single light bulb, now in my mind representing the core of the explosion, threw out the debris that in turn projected dramatic shadows onto the stark white walls, floor and ceiling - such a powerful image. I had never considered modern art before, but if this was it, I was a convert.'
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