Sourcing Found Materials for an Installation Piece by John Knight
It was a quiet Sunday morning when my phone buzzed with an unusual request. Sitting at my kitchen table, I read the message from the co-directors of the East London gallery, Final Hot Desert: we need to source used plywood for a new artwork for John Knight's upcoming solo show, Secrets. What seemed like a straightforward task would soon become a fascinating exercise in understanding the intricate relationship between materials, meaning, and artistic vision.
John's project was no ordinary installation. Drawing inspiration from Chicago's raw punk music scene, the piece demanded authenticity in every element. This wasn't simply about finding plywood; it was about finding the right plywood. Used, weathered, and carrying the patina of real-world experience. New timber, no matter how perfectly cut or pristine, would fundamentally contradict the artwork's conceptual framework. I found myself in the peculiar position of having to turn down perfectly good materials because they were too perfect. Calling merchants and suppliers, trying to explain why I specifically needed used plywood. Nothing new, nothing clean, nothing that hadn't already served a purpose. Their confusion was palpable. Why would someone actively seek out materials that others considered waste or second-best?
After extensive research and countless phone calls, synchronicity struck. I discovered a listing for genuinely used plywood that was located within our search radius. One of FHD’s co-directors later informed me that as they arrived to inspect the materials, they found that the top slab had been dyed blue, a detail that aligned beautifully with John's frequent incorporation of blue tones throughout his work.
These weathered sheets of plywood, along with reclaimed pallets, would become the piece Puntellare (the Void, Cincinnati, USA; 2023), a 108.509 square meter installation constructed by John, Final Hot Desert, and myself.
Working with artists like John has taught me that being an effective assistant means becoming fluent in the language of artistic intention, translating conceptual needs into practical solutions, and occasionally spending Sunday mornings explaining to bemused merchants why worn-out wood is exactly what we're looking for.
