
The dead are without function, for death is nothing but ultimate neutralising uselessness. For the French philosopher and literary theorist Maurice Blanchot, a dead body is a former being that finds itself elevated to its disembodied resemblance.[1] The idea here is that only by dying can a living thing surrender itself to its own image and appear. The cadaver, he writes, “no longer has any relations with this world, in which he still appears, except those of an image, an obscure possibility, a shadow which is constantly present behind the living form and which now, far from separating itself from that form, completely transforms itself into a shadow.”

More than a simple displacement of found everyday objects, Marian Tubbs’ assemblage installations indicate continued reflection on the conditions under which such objects can be brought together. In Lightning Said Being, mortal remains of late (very late) consumer capitalist detritus, especially kitsch domestic paraphernalia, are once again removed from all familiar contexts and recomposed in new potential relationships. In the absurdly contrived and blatantly non-functional-limbo-space of the art gallery, these eschewed relics of daily life and language are precariously arranged amongst icons of utility. Here we have erected scaffolding without the purpose of that erection immediately visible and self-assembled shelving by IKEA that somehow lost touch with its functionality in the process of being assembled.
Tubbs renders the newfound uselessness of these objects (and by extension the uselessness of all art) self-consciously evident. In the kinetic VHS assemblage, an object of outdated technology is dissected so its curling black innards, previous media of ordered time and duration, are exposed all at once in a subtly moving object of elegant futility. Sign is no longer separate from signified.

Near the anatomical VHS experiment is an HD video work, where the camera’s lens has reduced/elevated the ritual of the nail salon to its perfect disembodied resemblance. While the artist’s foot is methodically massaged, clipped, polished and painted, the footage objectifies the intimate and mundane act of the pedicure, splits it from itself, and re-presents it as an absolute image, an ineffectual corpse that is no longer the living thing but the consummated expression of it. It’s all part of her perpetual evasion of didacticism – she realigns and reassigns the pre-existing, in order that we form connections and meanings on and of our own. It’s an exercise in interpretation and pure potentiality, which, as Tubbs adamantly clarifies, must include the possibility of failure.

Just as the useful living do not yet have resemblance, our man Blanchot tells us that a utensil only takes on its own image when it becomes damaged and useless. If the ideal expression of an object is “its presence freed of existence, its form without matter”, we can consider Tubbs’ controlled gallery space as a mortuary (the word has etymological roots in the French morgue meaning ‘to look at solemnly’ or ‘to defy’). Here, in this place designated for the storage, identification, sterilisation and beautification of corpses, the once useful are once and for all removed from their prior possibility of utility in order to appear to us, finally, as themselves.
[1] Two Versions of the Imaginary in “The Space of Literature”, 1982, University of Nebraska Press.
Exhibition runs at Firstdraft Gallery February 23 – March 13.