Hooray, I’ve finally finished the second report from last month’s Front Room art trail. It would have been done sooner but I’ve been down with The Never-Ending Virus Of Doom.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

As well as doing the Red Thread performance piece, I decided to listen to the voices of reason (aka Dave Devereux and Cat Vincent) and NOT make another sculptural piece at such short notice. Instead, I installed 3 Score & 10, an existing sculpture which was completed in 2005 but which had only been shown twice before.

It was a wise choice. Not only was it a lot less stress but it looked stunning in the space. It was also hugely popular with visitors – sitting at the top of the stairs, I would often hear people exclaiming in wonder as they came up the staircase.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

3 Score & 10 is part of an ongoing series of work exploring the meaning and measurement of time. It comprises 70 long pieces of string, each containing 365 hand-tied knots. The knots represent the number of days (including leap days) that you would experience if you lived to your biblically allotted 70 years. It contains 25,568 knots and took just under two years to complete.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

This piece is different every time it’s installed. The first time, it fell neatly to the floor. The second time, it was shown in a tangle. And this third time, people were able to actually walk through the piece, which was very successful as it gave them a different visual experience from every angle.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

I was fortunate enough to have many intense conversations with visitors about the meaning of time. One thing I noticed was that the majority were fascinated by how long the piece had taken to make and the fact that I’d done all the knotting myself. It confirmed my recent realisation that there is an intangible value in making these sort of pieces myself, even though it’s undoubtedly slow and inefficient.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

One conversation that really moved me was with a model ship builder who was initially rather sceptical about my work until he suddenly connected it with the intricacy, repetition and length of time it took him to make his models, at which point he completely switched around and ‘got’ what I was doing. It’s these sort of moments that make showing art so worthwhile for me. I just love the generous way people open up to me and share their thoughts and ideas about what my work is about – it’s a huge privilege.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

Hooray, I’ve finally finished the second report from last month’s Front Room art trail. It would have been done sooner but I’ve been down with The Never-Ending Virus Of Doom....

Here’s the first of two reports on the work I showed at the Front Room art trail in November.

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The statement I wrote for this piece:
Red Thread
2009
Red thread, white dress, gag, chair, table, plasters, scissors, pincushion, needles.

Red Thread is a brand new piece being performed for the first time at Front Room.

This piece is so new that even I’m not entirely sure what it’s about but part of the inspiration came from Snow White:

“Oh, how I wish that I had a daughter that had skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony”.

Red thread has great magical significance in many cultures and is often used to make talismans or protective embroidery on clothes. It is usually associated with luck, protection or fertility. There is a particularly beautiful Chinese myth that an invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet – in that case, the entire world must be completely criss-crossed with invisible red lines.

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I don’t usually like photos of myself but I like the intensity of this one.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

Wow, I really should have ironed that sheet! But I put it up at the last minute to hide a corridor and didn’t have access to an iron – it’s always these little things that catch you out. Apart from that, my preparation for this show was very good.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

Cutting the knotted thread – many visitors noticed that both my pieces contained knots.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

I enjoyed the way the thread spread over me like a virus. Someone said it reminded them of mushroom spores.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

Doing the arms was tricky – I had to use my teeth to tie the knots.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

The little stool that I completely covered in medical plasters – a process that amused my Twitter followers for several days.

Sigh, I love my cute little bird scissors.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

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Overall this performance went well, although I discovered fairly quickly that being gagged didn’t work because people on art trails really want to talk to the artists and I needed to be available for that. So I abandoned that part for the duration. That’s one of the joyous things about performances, you can react instantly to things; it’s scary yet freeing. If I ever get the chance to repeat this piece in a more formal setting, I think the gag could still work.

I also managed to persuade a few people to join me in sewing. Even without the gag they were quite reluctant, possibly partly because of fears of blocking a narrow space but also, I think, because it’s a strangely intimate act.

Here’s the first of two reports on the work I showed at the Front Room art trail in November. ……………………… The statement I wrote for this piece: Red Thread 2009...

Hi everyone, sorry for being so quiet. Unfortunately I was so exhausted after the Front Room art trail that I collapsed in a heap for several days and then promptly caught a virus (possibly the mild version of Swine Flu) from my son. So I’ve spent most of the last two weeks in bed with a pile of books.

I’m hoping to do a proper art trail update in the next few days but since my muscles still feel like lead, I’m not making any promises.

Hi everyone, sorry for being so quiet. Unfortunately I was so exhausted after the Front Room art trail that I collapsed in a heap for several days and then promptly...