Where's the Power in Making?

I spent an interesting, albeit at times, frustrating, day at The Power of Making Symposium at the V&A on Friday. There's little point giving a journalistic account of the day, but suffice it to say the connection to the Power of Making was not initially obvious.  Only one of the twelve or so speakers was a maker.  How disappointing.  Had the day been sold as a symposium into the Power of Design or the Power of Manufacturing, then I am sure my expectations would have been better met.

I was lucky enough to attend another event at the V&A recently, also connected to the Power of Making exhibition. This was a discussion between Sir Christopher Frayling, Glenn Adamson and Grayson Perry, and the contrast couldn't be greater.  Not only was Grayson wearing a fetching hand-knitted cardigan as his 'homage to craft', but all the speakers demonstrated a passion and an appreciation for the making of craft.  There was very little passion at the symposium, and as the day progressed, I felt increasingly cross and frustrated.

However, reflection and hindsight are powerful tools. Although nothing can provide recompense for what I felt was absent from the symposium, I now realise that the day has helped me to identify what it is about making that is important to me.

I love the materiality of stuff.  Feeling the texture and smell of leather, noticing the transparency or opacity of glass, complementing the shiny or rusty surface of metal.  This is what I like.  I like to hold materials, manipulate them between my fingers, draw round them, draw on them, join them, take them apart.  I like finding the beauty in the stuff we use to make our world, and in particular, I like to highlight the beauty in the stuff that we lose along the way.

When is a chair not a chair?

Oh, Ron Arad, you are a star! Whiling away an hour or two before seeing Laurie Anderson at the Barbican, I was unsure what to expect of Mr Arad's exhibition, Restless. Simultaneously labelled as an architect, product designer, furniture maker and more, I wasn't wholly confident in how appealing his show would be. I should have had more faith. It was an absolute joy - full of cheek, humour, beauty, reverence, irreverence ... even some lostings and foundings (see earlier blog). The icing on the cake was that we got to see the man himself. As I was ooh-ing and ah-ing over Looming Lloyd and my favourite piece of the show, The Quick Fox And The Lazy Dog, along skipped (literally) Mr Arad, a beaming smile on his face as he ran to check on the progress of the moss and lichen in his typewriter/chair. Resembling a cross between Willy Wonka and The Mad Hatter, and delightfully animated, he came to life as he saw his work, in much the same way as children do when they see their mothers waiting in the school playground. Although surrounded by "please do not touch the exhibits" signs, I got the feeling that as soon as he knew no staff were watching, he would get a cheeky glint in his eye, and encourage all who were there to take their pick and have a seat.

Looming Lloyd (1989), Ron Arad

The Quick Fox and The Lazy Dog (1989), Ron Arad

It's been a busy couple of weeks exhibition wise - both 'Quilts' and 'Decode' at the V&A, 'The Honey Bee and the Hive' at the CAA, Tracey Emin & co at the Foundling Museum and Ian Penney at the Rebecca Hossack Gallery, but Ron Arad's Restless at the Barbican, London was the clear winner. Thank you Mr Arad - I'm now off in search of my own skip and cheeky glint!