Photography: András Káré
Founded in 2012 as a virtual platform by the Düsseldorf-based artists, Anne Pöhlmann and Diango Hernández, lonelyfingers uniquely examines the process, rather than the outcome of contemporary art production. More specifically, it is concerned with its first stage: sourcing inspiration from existing objects. This critical approach at once redefines the use of objet trouvé and the role of the artist-as-curator.
Here is a selection of my ‘Finds’ which have all been found in Budapest and evolve from Blood Mountain’s ongoing research and production project, “Stories from Central Europe” (2011-).
The small brass lamp components which I found in a garage in a quiet street on the outskirts of Budapest are from the storage of a third generation Hungarian lamp manufacturer. It was one of the few privately run companies during socialism. The collection of parts in the garage represent the end of an era. These pieces are full of potential and sadness. Forgotten treasures. The speed with which political and economic change has happened has created so many fragments. There seems to be little interest in Hungary to collect them, let alone understand what they represent.
A ticket machine from Budapest’s public transport network has become the central icon for my investigation into the Ikarus bus company and the culture of design thinking during socialism. The machine weighs 1.5kg and its sole purpose is to punch three small holes into a thin orange piece of paper. The disproportionate nature of the object is appealing. A world without the absurd is a dull one.
The mysterious handle is the key to a future I will never live in. An amazing object, so complex. I think about this piece quite often.
The drawing of a pommel horse routine comes from a book I purchased from the trainer of a Hungarian Olympic gold medalist. This encounter became instrumental in the development of a bag I produced for the first “Stories from Central Europe” exhibition.
The white glass lamp shades are from the Ecseri flea market, where there are rooms filled to the brim with white glass and other high quality glass of all shapes and sizes. I would never find this in Australia, let alone at the price and variety, but in Budapest it is as if they hold limited value. It is easier and more desirable to visit Ikea and buy a new, simplistic form of inferior quality. These objects represent to me a confusion I am trying to understand.