The objects seemingly organic, yet man-made forms, hint towards a kind of archaeological intervention, where the process of human activity meets material culture. The ambiguity of this process is posed through the concealment of the cloth, in turn, revealing that this sense of uncertainty aims to challenge perception. These gaps in The Industrial Site require pockets of knowledge that aim to reflect notions of myth and rituals, where actions and objects become very much both personal and cultural normalities. In disclosing the very thing that has been made, the works importance shifts to the process of production, questioning our relationship to the production and reproduction of objects. 


The Industrial Site makes what is impersonal, personal, through the fetishisation of production; through the delicacy of cloth and soft textures. The personal is wrapped up in the domestic setting, where perhaps bread making is taking place, but is soon rejected through the cloths disguise. In this work, there is no one produced outcome; the function of each object intertwine into a continuous back and forth between each parts, where equilibrium is no longer obvious. It is the role of photography here that allows this disfunction of linear time to operate, where all parts of production coexist. This role of photography here is similar to that of the cloth, acting as an illusionistic device. 

The ambiguous forms, particularly that of the parcels, could resemble something ancient, something archaeological, posing the audience as archaeologists. Discovering, identifying and categorising are processes humans adopt in understanding the material world in which we live in. The Industrial Site holds glimpses of information that provoke the audience to dig deeper, revealing the creative process of observation and thought. 

Notions of myth and ritual are rooted deep in the work, where gaps of knowledge are filled through personal and collective memory. Although meaning may have been different for the artist, the work attempts to allow the viewer to develop their own meanings to the objects. In a commodified world where the production of objects are unruly, we still hold onto preciousness, and desire to keep and protect objects that are imbued with meaning.

  

Everything Is Anything Else began as an exploration of stereopsis; the perception of depth and three-dimensionality. Stereopsis occurs when two eyes can perceive a single three-dimensional image of its surroundings, also known as binocular vision. This process can be simulated by artificially presenting two different images separately to each eye using a method called stereoscopy. In 1832, this method was invented, where an apparatus called the stereoscope allows the eyes to experience two images as a three-dimensional illusion, a kind of window back into the depicted reality.

This language between two and three-dimensions informed Everything Is Anything Else, a body of work that simultaneously explores the intersection of photography and sculpture. The work is comprised of various versions of a glass structure; a reassemblage of the photo frame, as both object, photographic image, and a stereoscope that bridges the language between the two. Honing in on the idea of the photograph as transparent, the glass structure becomes symbolic for the complexities of our perception of the photograph, and the loss of object-hood in the twenty-first century. 

Experienced as an installation, this body of work presents a flux of time and space through multiple versions of the seemingly same object. Everything Is Anything Else aims explore our understanding of both the physical and digital world. 

Copyright © Taylor Lyttleton