I could repair the sculpture. Or leave it to decay further. Or build a new one.
As the (unpainted) title of the original sculpture suggests the work is not finished. It was a prototype for further work and could have been painted to fit more with the ancient legends. My procrastination has given this sculpture an opportunity to express itself its own way.
Post about the creation of the original sculpture:
Over the last 18 months, as I walk around the neighborhood, I often see the furniture that has been abandoned or has escaped domestic confines and is now residing on the streets or in the fields.
In fact, all over Turkey, I see wild furniture. I’m searching for the most elusive varieties of furniture – the avian and the aquatic. Maybe one day I will be lucky enough to see some furniture flying or swimming or even just resting beside a waterway or in a tree or on a rooftop.
I looked out the window and there were three types of light sources of increasing power. On the ground below were man-made city lights. On the horizon were flashes of lightning from a tropical storm. And above a myriad of stars.
What would happen if certain countries did not exist?
One of the items in Theo’s procrastination list (since 2014) is an geographical education computer game called Country Thief.
As someone who comes from a country (New Zealand) that is often left off global maps, I decided to create a game where countries are disappearing from the map for various reasons (evil dictators, nuclear war, economic collapse, alien invasion, meteors of unusual size and shape, global warming). Players race against decreasing time limits to find the missing country and identify it. Can you beat the clock and save your country from disappearing?
Given recent current events and environmental concerns, I am releasing this concept design image for people to share on social media and make their own comments.
Over the last few years the landscape around our neighborhood has changed as more and more of the older buildings are replaced with luxury apartment blocks.
A neighbor behind us had a two storey house where they kept chickens on their rooftop under a grapevine.
In 2014 they and others in the street sold to developers and their houses were demolished to make way for new construction.
Concrete foundations for the new building were poured and then demolished again. Rising five floors above the second foundation the new apartment construction took about two years.
The new monstrosity now blocks our view of the city, hills, afternoon sun and sky.
This painting series aims to capture that there once was sky.
I grew up in the town of Woodville, in New Zealand where my ancestors were some of the first settlers. They had emigrated from County Tipperary in Ireland where there is also a Woodville.
My Woodville is a junction town, and there are many road signs around the North Island of New Zealand pointing to it. My father would often say that all roads lead to Woodville. With at least thirty seven places named Woodville globally he has a good chance of being correct.