Rose belongs to lotus, 2, Circulation
Recently in Schaarbeek, Brussels I have seen many kids playing out on the streets
and squares. The balls in the trees prove their play. The twigs are occasionally
their goal keepers, they hold the balls like a net, like lines on paper keep some
scripts and ends of words. But none of the balls here carry a name.
The Miandra piece consists of soccer balls that are turned inside out and sewn
together in slightly extended forms resembling a ball in flight or maybe the organic
shape of a ripening fruit. The only marks that these new shapes still carry are
the name-tags of their former owners: Miandra, Alyse, David, Jeff, Nolan and Blake.
All the balls were found in thrift stores in Seattle at the end of 2007 and beginning
of 2008. While watching Barack Obama's inauguration speech and at the same time
noticing Michelle's green gloves and the aggressive undertone of some of his words,
I was stitching the ball halves and single patches back together and deciding
to add a quotation to the title: America is bigger than the summer of your individual
The tags seem to name the altered objects like the stickers on the oranges I am
eating these days name them Aida.
A little later I was preparing a different piece for which I needed the balls'
black bladders. While tearing their seams apart I stumbled across arabic pencil
writing on the inside surface of one of them. This was a ball that had been played
hard with. It had gathered moist and mold on its inside. I learned that the writing
appeared to be in Arabic the name Irfan. It was impossible to identify the ball's
origin because the imprint that normally states Made in India or Pakistan had
disappeared over time. But here suddenly was the unlikely possibility that a marker
pen writing on the outside marking an ownership could be mirrored with a pencil
message on its inside. A message tracing the existence of a person across the
globe who had been involved in the production of this ball. Some of the tags start
by now to fade away as if in this case the objects' lives are longer than the
mark that claims them. Irfan means knowledge and wisdom. Most likely this writing
was never meant to be brought to light again.
— Heide Hinrichs