5 – 21 May 2016
Spag Bog is the dinner my family ate about once a week. It was prepared in advance with browned mince and a big jar of five brothers, then frozen in an ice cream container labelled spag bog. Spag bog is your everyday slop, and like the junk in my house, it is something wonderful and strange that became unnoticeable and everyday.
I have lived in many houses with all this stuff that seems to slowly move itself, gather in corners, collect dust, and disappear. In order to understand this mess again I must leave and visit galleries and shops – there I can see colour, form and texture. When I hate my junk I see it as future landfill, and then to love it I must pretend it’s my artwork. I have only just begun to like spaghetti bolognese again.