albert
∞ ALBERT ∞
I lingered somewhere in between Vienna and Munich for quite a while. Never sure where to live, where I will go needing ikea more than anything except wifi. Eventually one does have to furnish the flat, even if it is merely about storage, and less about the decorative act, less about the creation of representative private space where one can host selected individuals to give them a taste of ones tasteful indoor life. This is when I first bought Albert. It is a compromise piece from the very first moment. It looks cheap, it promises to be unstable, it costs almost nothing. If you thought billy banal, then still, it does stand and holds stuff. Albert signifies failure of the concept of furniture in the first place. The sole reason to buy it could be a general insecurity about how to go about the process of living in a certain space. Questions of time - how long will we be there - questions of economy - what do we want to invest, how far do we even want to take this project of living space optimization? Albert incorporates doubts and fluidity, unstableness, undefinedness. Upon arrival at alleged home, as promised, its construction turns into a nightmare. Once assembled, I think of my father and his concepts of practicality, his being prone to things that make sense and function. Things that come with a set of rules on how to take care of them, how to react to their material, how to behave in case of unusually early flaw. The good stuff, the opposite of that stuff that is not good, that is a waste of money, for its neither beautiful nor practical. A shelve should not bounce and wiggle. It should be massive. Albert is not. I come to think about the differences between me and my parents, their generation of people who own things, of constructing homes and houses. Of doing things right. Inherently european. Me and my shelve we are far from that. Me, I am even far from wanting to own anything, from settling on anything. Albert allows you not to settle. When I move into my studio I find myself in the exact same situation all over again, the only difference being at this time there is even less money to spend, even less money to be invested in an actual intermediate space. It‘s there on paper a limited contract. This is temporary. My life feels temporary and since that means time is limited, you gonna wanna be quick and get started. To do so, I need to create structure to the mess, order things, stack them, pack them, since complete chaos doesn’t do it. ikea hence. And yes, I do buy another Albert. The difference being, this time I know that everything we had suspected last time before buying is true.
Magically, I commit again, to the piece allowing me not to commit. Albert is so cheap... it almost doesn’t matter. I buy a few other basic things, I carry them up 2 floors, unpack them, put them where they belong, buy a few more boxes to store what I have bought. Albert remains standing silently unpacked. Three weeks pass, Albert untouched, life has begun in the space. I pull myself together and find the compassion to open the package. Like mikado Albert lies picturesque on the studio floor to remain there. I take a lot of images, for it really looks so beautiful, the components of an item yet to help me stack things. I post a few images of albert here and there, the only person reacting of course is my father, continuously wondering, why that thing doesn’t get assembled. It is hard on him to see it that way. I work a lot, sitting an estimated 30 cm from the Albert pile. I make plans every other day to do it, to get it done. My sister comes to visit. She asks me about Albert. I say I didn’t have the time so she sets to work, I do stuff in the kitchen. The first three elements are assembled when I find her cursing. About to screw in the 4th piece, connecting 2 parts of wood, she had split the wood piece in two. Broken, irrepareably. I can not even bother, I am not even laughing too well am I acquainted with the very nature of Albert. I tell her to leave it, to just leave it. no, please, come on, forget it. I feel like solving the issue of this hideous pile of wood on the floor. I group the elements by there lengths and make a bag each. Organza is a beautifying material, it is cheap and unpractical when it comes to durability. It is decorative, like a patina, a cake frosting. It is meant to give meaning to objects without meaning. It creates surplus. It stores but doesn‘t pack, actually it wrappes but doesn‘t disguise. Contrarily it being transparent it actually just emphasises the content. Here is Albert, finally stored and settled, categorized and ordered. I feel great. I feel ready to take it wherever I should go next. Bagging the thing seems to pacify me. Its safe and nice. Looking good. Unnecessary action is what connects me with Albert. There was simply no point in building that shelve. Nomadic feeling summed up through an object of no use, that fails on all levels to provide one with what it is made to do, but that allows for one very peculiar emotion that is part of my present reality. It allows for ultimate ambiguity. Through buying it I provide myself with a notion of solving and selecting, the actual anxiety of restlesness is submerged in a sort of pseudo decision while allowing for all my uncertainty to remain intact.
2014
I lingered somewhere in between Vienna and Munich for quite a while. Never sure where to live, where I will go needing ikea more than anything except wifi. Eventually one does have to furnish the flat, even if it is merely about storage, and less about the decorative act, less about the creation of representative private space where one can host selected individuals to give them a taste of ones tasteful indoor life. This is when I first bought Albert. It is a compromise piece from the very first moment. It looks cheap, it promises to be unstable, it costs almost nothing. If you thought billy banal, then still, it does stand and holds stuff. Albert signifies failure of the concept of furniture in the first place. The sole reason to buy it could be a general insecurity about how to go about the process of living in a certain space. Questions of time - how long will we be there - questions of economy - what do we want to invest, how far do we even want to take this project of living space optimization? Albert incorporates doubts and fluidity, unstableness, undefinedness. Upon arrival at alleged home, as promised, its construction turns into a nightmare. Once assembled, I think of my father and his concepts of practicality, his being prone to things that make sense and function. Things that come with a set of rules on how to take care of them, how to react to their material, how to behave in case of unusually early flaw. The good stuff, the opposite of that stuff that is not good, that is a waste of money, for its neither beautiful nor practical. A shelve should not bounce and wiggle. It should be massive. Albert is not. I come to think about the differences between me and my parents, their generation of people who own things, of constructing homes and houses. Of doing things right. Inherently european. Me and my shelve we are far from that. Me, I am even far from wanting to own anything, from settling on anything. Albert allows you not to settle. When I move into my studio I find myself in the exact same situation all over again, the only difference being at this time there is even less money to spend, even less money to be invested in an actual intermediate space. It‘s there on paper a limited contract. This is temporary. My life feels temporary and since that means time is limited, you gonna wanna be quick and get started. To do so, I need to create structure to the mess, order things, stack them, pack them, since complete chaos doesn’t do it. ikea hence. And yes, I do buy another Albert. The difference being, this time I know that everything we had suspected last time before buying is true.
Magically, I commit again, to the piece allowing me not to commit. Albert is so cheap... it almost doesn’t matter. I buy a few other basic things, I carry them up 2 floors, unpack them, put them where they belong, buy a few more boxes to store what I have bought. Albert remains standing silently unpacked. Three weeks pass, Albert untouched, life has begun in the space. I pull myself together and find the compassion to open the package. Like mikado Albert lies picturesque on the studio floor to remain there. I take a lot of images, for it really looks so beautiful, the components of an item yet to help me stack things. I post a few images of albert here and there, the only person reacting of course is my father, continuously wondering, why that thing doesn’t get assembled. It is hard on him to see it that way. I work a lot, sitting an estimated 30 cm from the Albert pile. I make plans every other day to do it, to get it done. My sister comes to visit. She asks me about Albert. I say I didn’t have the time so she sets to work, I do stuff in the kitchen. The first three elements are assembled when I find her cursing. About to screw in the 4th piece, connecting 2 parts of wood, she had split the wood piece in two. Broken, irrepareably. I can not even bother, I am not even laughing too well am I acquainted with the very nature of Albert. I tell her to leave it, to just leave it. no, please, come on, forget it. I feel like solving the issue of this hideous pile of wood on the floor. I group the elements by there lengths and make a bag each. Organza is a beautifying material, it is cheap and unpractical when it comes to durability. It is decorative, like a patina, a cake frosting. It is meant to give meaning to objects without meaning. It creates surplus. It stores but doesn‘t pack, actually it wrappes but doesn‘t disguise. Contrarily it being transparent it actually just emphasises the content. Here is Albert, finally stored and settled, categorized and ordered. I feel great. I feel ready to take it wherever I should go next. Bagging the thing seems to pacify me. Its safe and nice. Looking good. Unnecessary action is what connects me with Albert. There was simply no point in building that shelve. Nomadic feeling summed up through an object of no use, that fails on all levels to provide one with what it is made to do, but that allows for one very peculiar emotion that is part of my present reality. It allows for ultimate ambiguity. Through buying it I provide myself with a notion of solving and selecting, the actual anxiety of restlesness is submerged in a sort of pseudo decision while allowing for all my uncertainty to remain intact.
2014
