Making Do
Photograph by Joseph Hole
NEW ISSUE
Making Sense
This issue of Making Do attempts to explore the process of "making sense" as a method of creative production, making sense in the space between reality and fantasy. What happens in that space, the often nervous frequency between the real and the non-real?
Using and pushing the process further, the editors have decided to not even attempt to make sense of each other by working together. Instead, they have each visited that territory separately and with the company of their contributors - the results of which, was then put together in an envelope. The reader holds the evidence of these journeys.
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Trainer Monument
Can Altay
Issue 2 - Making Sense
Trainer Monument
by Can Altay
The idea for the monument is rooted in the history of Liverpool FC supporters’ travels through Europe for away games during the late 70’s and early 80’s, which resulted in a particular consciousness of style that was rooted in the cities of Germany, Holland, Switzerland and Italy rather than in London, the expected source of preconditioned decisions on what youth should wear. Dave Hewitson’s amazing account of that time in his book, “The Liverpool boys are back in town 1978/82. Where d’ya get your trainees from?” (1) traces a series of events and the objects that accompany those events (shoes, shirts, bags and tickets). The treatment of the object is particularly interesting as it really resonates with the nature of sneaker or trainer or sports shoe enthusiasts today. Hakim Bey suggests that the formation of a “temporary autonomous zone” can be found to a certain degree in the gatherings of loose communities such as subcultures, hobby groups and enthusiasts (2). But can such a commodity as the sports shoe, which has everything to do with global capital, also lead to a certain degree of autonomy in relation to the degree of dedication its enthusiasts are propelled towards?
Hewitson’s personal-historical reading roots the whole sportswear boom – particularly that of sports shoes (trainers) and the subculture of ‘casuals’ - in football fans’ trips to international games. He goes to state that Liverpool fans are responsible for the commercial
success of brands such as Adidas in the U.K., which may seem a bit far-fetched but it is also a quite probable hypothesis. The book uses archival photographs of trips and objects and clear descriptions to tell the story of what gets brought to town, along which routes, and how it becomes fashionable. It is also an historical account revolving around an object, which shows how the obsession has prevailed: football and style consciousness just like tracksuits and training shoes remain integral aspects of the city, even today. The forms may change but Hewitson renders the trainer (the merchandise) an object and artefact of historical importance in understanding Liverpool.
The object is on the street, in the shop-window; it’s in the street on the feet of the passer-by; it’s on paper in publications for enthusiasts (besides ad campaigns). However, there is no evident trace of its afterlife and so the idea was shaped, of making trainer shoes visible
after years of wear and tear while bringing former users together, over a period of time. This is to be a gathering of sorts, not necessarily ofthe users, but definitely of the objects, the shoes. I want to do this, as the title suggests, by proposing a monument. In his proposal text for a cinema/sculpture, Jorge Pardo (who is also responsible for the giant lamp posts swirling over Wolstenholme Square, where clubs such as the ‘Cream’ reside) describes film or, more precisely, cinema and going to the movies as a ceremonial, submissive action that functions by means of a continual return.
He pins this down as an aspect of the link between the experience of cinema and that of the monumental (an aspect he wished to break open) (3). Robert Musil on the other hand, proposes in his book “Posthumous Papers of a Living Author” that the moment a monument and in particular a memorial is placed on a site, it serves to erase the memory it is meant to recall or epitomize. In a sense, monuments and memorials work towards forgetting and serve to make their content invisible (4). These two views on the idea of monuments had quite an influence on how the “trainer monument” was conceived: an intervention above an existing street, somewhere along the Rope Walks. The question was to think about a monument’s essential function and to try to formalize it directly, yet allow it to become something that stands outside the tradition of the monumental. The monument for Liverpool is composed of wires stretched above a street. The wires are there for pairs of shoes to be hung on. A pair is tied together by its
laces and thrown over a wire – and there it hangs. This is a common practice also known as “shoe tossing” or “shoe flinging”. Although there are various meanings attributed to the practice, the monument’s aim is simply to become monumental through intensifying the act and its repetition. In time, it will generate a surface composed of sports shoes or sneakers or “trainees” as they are called in Liverpool. The monument functions as a place one can visit, toss old trainees at, and spot previously tossed ones (‘trainerspotting’); and also renders the random acts of shoe tossing and the gathering of objects and enthusiasts visible. It is also a monument that will take shape over longer periods of time by means of frequent submissions. Time will turn the trainers into a shelter from rain or into nests for urban lifeforms.
The trainer monument was first conceived and published as a proposal in a book (5). This fantasy was picked up and the Public Prototype was launched, a living, growing trainer monument in front of Static in Liverpool (6). A full-size Trainer Monument is being imagined by the artist and the producers of the prototype, aspiring for its moment of realization.
(1) Hewitson, D. The Liverpool boys are back in town 1978/82 Where d’ya get your trainees from? Liverpool: Self-Published, 2004.
(2) In his latest preface to his seminal book T.A.Z., Hakim Bey expresses the need to return to the “geographical odorous tactile tasty physical space” for the existence of Temporary Autonomous Zone; no longer seeing any potential for the Internet, as the web has become “a perfect mirror of Global Capital” (p. xi) in: Hakim Bey. T.A.Z. Temporary Autonomous Zone, Ontological Anarchy, Poetic Terrorism. NY: Autonomedia, 2003.
(3) Vegh, C. et al. Jorge Pardo. London: Phaidon Press, 2008.
(4) The original title of this book is “Nachlass Zu Lebzeiten”. I refer to the Turkish translation published by YKY in 2000. For the English translation see: Musil, R. Posthumous Papers of a Living Author. NY: Archipelago, 2006.
(5) Altay, C. “Directed Gaze” in E. Guidi (ed.) Urban Makers. Berlin: bbooks, 2008.
(6) Paul Sullivan of Static, and Dave Hewitson the author of “Where’d ya get your trainees…” organized a series of small-scale gigs and events to produce the prototype.
Back
Can Altay
Issue 2 - Making Sense
Trainer Monument
by Can Altay
The idea for the monument is rooted in the history of Liverpool FC supporters’ travels through Europe for away games during the late 70’s and early 80’s, which resulted in a particular consciousness of style that was rooted in the cities of Germany, Holland, Switzerland and Italy rather than in London, the expected source of preconditioned decisions on what youth should wear. Dave Hewitson’s amazing account of that time in his book, “The Liverpool boys are back in town 1978/82. Where d’ya get your trainees from?” (1) traces a series of events and the objects that accompany those events (shoes, shirts, bags and tickets). The treatment of the object is particularly interesting as it really resonates with the nature of sneaker or trainer or sports shoe enthusiasts today. Hakim Bey suggests that the formation of a “temporary autonomous zone” can be found to a certain degree in the gatherings of loose communities such as subcultures, hobby groups and enthusiasts (2). But can such a commodity as the sports shoe, which has everything to do with global capital, also lead to a certain degree of autonomy in relation to the degree of dedication its enthusiasts are propelled towards?
Hewitson’s personal-historical reading roots the whole sportswear boom – particularly that of sports shoes (trainers) and the subculture of ‘casuals’ - in football fans’ trips to international games. He goes to state that Liverpool fans are responsible for the commercial
success of brands such as Adidas in the U.K., which may seem a bit far-fetched but it is also a quite probable hypothesis. The book uses archival photographs of trips and objects and clear descriptions to tell the story of what gets brought to town, along which routes, and how it becomes fashionable. It is also an historical account revolving around an object, which shows how the obsession has prevailed: football and style consciousness just like tracksuits and training shoes remain integral aspects of the city, even today. The forms may change but Hewitson renders the trainer (the merchandise) an object and artefact of historical importance in understanding Liverpool.
The object is on the street, in the shop-window; it’s in the street on the feet of the passer-by; it’s on paper in publications for enthusiasts (besides ad campaigns). However, there is no evident trace of its afterlife and so the idea was shaped, of making trainer shoes visible
after years of wear and tear while bringing former users together, over a period of time. This is to be a gathering of sorts, not necessarily ofthe users, but definitely of the objects, the shoes. I want to do this, as the title suggests, by proposing a monument. In his proposal text for a cinema/sculpture, Jorge Pardo (who is also responsible for the giant lamp posts swirling over Wolstenholme Square, where clubs such as the ‘Cream’ reside) describes film or, more precisely, cinema and going to the movies as a ceremonial, submissive action that functions by means of a continual return.
He pins this down as an aspect of the link between the experience of cinema and that of the monumental (an aspect he wished to break open) (3). Robert Musil on the other hand, proposes in his book “Posthumous Papers of a Living Author” that the moment a monument and in particular a memorial is placed on a site, it serves to erase the memory it is meant to recall or epitomize. In a sense, monuments and memorials work towards forgetting and serve to make their content invisible (4). These two views on the idea of monuments had quite an influence on how the “trainer monument” was conceived: an intervention above an existing street, somewhere along the Rope Walks. The question was to think about a monument’s essential function and to try to formalize it directly, yet allow it to become something that stands outside the tradition of the monumental. The monument for Liverpool is composed of wires stretched above a street. The wires are there for pairs of shoes to be hung on. A pair is tied together by its
laces and thrown over a wire – and there it hangs. This is a common practice also known as “shoe tossing” or “shoe flinging”. Although there are various meanings attributed to the practice, the monument’s aim is simply to become monumental through intensifying the act and its repetition. In time, it will generate a surface composed of sports shoes or sneakers or “trainees” as they are called in Liverpool. The monument functions as a place one can visit, toss old trainees at, and spot previously tossed ones (‘trainerspotting’); and also renders the random acts of shoe tossing and the gathering of objects and enthusiasts visible. It is also a monument that will take shape over longer periods of time by means of frequent submissions. Time will turn the trainers into a shelter from rain or into nests for urban lifeforms.
The trainer monument was first conceived and published as a proposal in a book (5). This fantasy was picked up and the Public Prototype was launched, a living, growing trainer monument in front of Static in Liverpool (6). A full-size Trainer Monument is being imagined by the artist and the producers of the prototype, aspiring for its moment of realization.
(1) Hewitson, D. The Liverpool boys are back in town 1978/82 Where d’ya get your trainees from? Liverpool: Self-Published, 2004.
(2) In his latest preface to his seminal book T.A.Z., Hakim Bey expresses the need to return to the “geographical odorous tactile tasty physical space” for the existence of Temporary Autonomous Zone; no longer seeing any potential for the Internet, as the web has become “a perfect mirror of Global Capital” (p. xi) in: Hakim Bey. T.A.Z. Temporary Autonomous Zone, Ontological Anarchy, Poetic Terrorism. NY: Autonomedia, 2003.
(3) Vegh, C. et al. Jorge Pardo. London: Phaidon Press, 2008.
(4) The original title of this book is “Nachlass Zu Lebzeiten”. I refer to the Turkish translation published by YKY in 2000. For the English translation see: Musil, R. Posthumous Papers of a Living Author. NY: Archipelago, 2006.
(5) Altay, C. “Directed Gaze” in E. Guidi (ed.) Urban Makers. Berlin: bbooks, 2008.
(6) Paul Sullivan of Static, and Dave Hewitson the author of “Where’d ya get your trainees…” organized a series of small-scale gigs and events to produce the prototype.
Back