Peter Donaldson Artist

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I walk to the studio with my dog. On the way we stop at the park, a crumpled can of Tyskie skewered on the entrance gate welcomes us, like a pathetic John Chamberlain. An attempt to lob a poo bag full of warm turd into the bucket goes wildly awry and gets stuck in a tree, a shit Yoko Ono. As we walk past a row of condemned garages a pair of Eva Hesse’s tights stretch over a site fence. On the way home we have an encounter with a dishevelled and slumped Daniel Buren, which turns out to be a PVC parking cover, the dog is less impressed than me.

These moments litter my pilgrimage to the studio and get stuck in my mind. I have tried recreating them, but the moment has passed, left behind in the street. Now I use them as a starting out point, I recontextualise and reanimate them, using casting techniques, paint and found objects. The results reflect an absurd rethinking and reimagining of these moments that are incidental in our everyday lives.