"Members of the public face the task of presenting those around them with objects which they hope will reflect the appropriate level of thought and affection. This can be quite a pressurised situation, writes Róisin Ingle
'Hope Inherent' would like to help people to give lovely presents. They will provide a service whereby a member of the public may place an order for a gift, providing three pieces of information about the recipient, specify a price index and collect the customised object a certain amount of time later. It might be a pin hammer or a shower curtain. Each object will be specially modified for the recipient."
***
An orange Perspex box is sitting on a table in an art gallery in Temple Bar in Dublin. Sitting behind the table are two artists who, for the past 10 days, have been helping people with their Christmas shopping. They've been customising random items, elevating them out of the ordinary by turning them into unique gifts. A plastic watering can. A notebook. An old wooden spirit level.
They are Hope Inherent. The same two women who a couple of summers ago took over a kiosk on Grattan Bridge in Dublin for a month at rush hour, and made things more pleasant for people walking past on their way home from work. Jennie Moran and Tara Kennedy blasted old songs from a record player. Gave away bags filled with a recipe and all the ingredients for that night's dinner.
If you knew about these things, then you might call it interactive public art. But I just call it doing good for others, or making the world a nicer place. These women have quiet, empathic, generous ideas. Locked in a frenzy of buying bad last-minute gifts - I know exactly what he'd like: a novelty Elvis mug! - their latest idea made me think in a different way about Christmas shopping.
So to the orange Perspex box. With their permission I sat beside the table the other day, lifted the lid and looked through the orders that have been placed on this Yuletide assembly line. It turns out that three pieces of information can say a lot about a person.
One: she has more than 20 piercings. Two: she lives in Liverpool. Three: she's an actor. I feel as if I know her already. One: likes opera. Two: is 72 years old. Three: loves antiques. I know what this person is getting, but I'm not telling. One: bicycles! Two: pirates! Three: dancing! I really want to meet you. One: loves books. Two: has false hip. Three: thinks he's Elvis. Hmmm. Maybe he'd like that mug.
***
After sifting through the box I am full of resolve. I will customise like crazy when I am thinking of presents for people. I will take found, recycled or inexpensive items and make them special to the recipient. There is hope inherent, even in a plastic watering can. You just have to know where to look.
***
My boyfriend says these are the three important pieces of information that spring to mind when he thinks of me. One: she scratches her feet. Two: she doesn't shave her legs in winter. Three: she makes a mess when making dinner. I know he is joking, but still I'm glad he hasn't placed an order in the orange Perspex box. I hope he hasn't, anyway.
***
This is what I say about him when I place my order for his Christmas present. One: I love him. Two: he wants to make a difference. Three: he has a quiet kind of passion.
I'll find out what Jennie and Tara have made of that when I pick up my order later today, their last day of business.
***
Here's my own attempt at a piece of interactive public art: Hope Inherent may have come to the end of its Christmas assembly line, or it may have room for a couple more orders. Find out by visiting the Big Store at Temple Bar Art Gallery in Dublin today. Say I sent you.
***
I've never been a fan of columns broken up with asterisks, but somehow stars at Christmas seemed appropriate. Normal service will resume next time.
***
Until then, have yourselves a merry and hopeful little Christmas.