!I

Repository!, 2001 , flocking on foam, mirror, light and chromed steel, 500 x 500 x 400 mm. Collection of the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa. Notes, recessed into the wa ll cavity with glass flush to the wall's surtace and the chromed frame screwed to the wall.

Sanitate I

published on the occasion of Sanitate-a Big Wall installation at Dunedin Public Art Gallery

by Christopher Braddock

I

(

Sanitate: the cube the church and the human stain Natas ha C o nland

Chris Braddock has regularly worked three points of symbol ic association in his practice-the

human body, high Minimalism and Christian motif. Of these, the aesthetic t radition of Minimalism

is seldom drawn into the discussion of Braddock's work. Instead the central di lemma of t he

artist's practice is most often articulated as an exploration of t he tension between t he sacred and

the profane. However in Sanitate, his 2004 installation in the high-vaulted foyer of the Dunedin

Public Art Gallery, Braddock comes as close as he ever has to linking the visual language of the

church with the aesthetics of Donald Judd's Minimalism. The overall form of t he work is a

majestic tribute to both- a cool metal shrine-composed from ordinary industrial t issue dispensers.

If Christian and Minimal traditions are the platform both social and formal for Braddock's work,

the subject of his work is their corruption through the imposition of symbolic associat ions of t he

body. Julia Kristeva's observation has been used before in relation to Braddock's work, but it is an

appropriate one- when there is a coherent system, an element t hat escapes that system is

designated as 'dirty'1. Braddock, in unifying these disparate t raditions, critiques their persistent

isolation from that messy 'real-world' other.

' Julia Kristeva , quoted in Kyla McFarlane, 'Kyla McFarlane looks at the recent art of Christopher Braddock', Eyeline, no.42, Autumn/Winter 2000, p. 36. From, 'Of Word and Flesh', an interview by Charles Penwarden, Rites of Passage: Art for the End of the Century , ed. Stuart Morgan and Frances Morris, London, Tate Gallery Publications, 1995, p. 24.

Pages 2-l Sanitate, 2004, tissue-box dispensers, electric cables, lights, lacquer, 7000 x 23000 x 65 mm. Page 4, Votive Mutations (detail), 1999, ribbon, tin and chromed steel, dimensions variable.

above. Votive Mutations- black version (detail), 2001, ribbon, chrome and nickel-plated steel, dimensions variable.

San itate 5

the cube During the emergence of high Minimalism in the early 1960s in America, 'Minimal form' was

characterised as an object without relationship beyond its own structure. It is no accident that

Braddock chooses arguably the most secular of art forms to make a case for the presence of fa ith.

In Sanitate , Braddock displays the tissue boxes in a regular geometry determined by the size and

scale of the boxes. The boxes have been designed by industry to accommodate two actions-an

opening which allows for the replacement of the tissue refills , and the dispensing of each t issue.

The ergonomics of the design, and economics of their multiple reproduction, has determined the

shape of the opening: two intersecting slots on the rectangular front of the unit. With th is front

facing, Braddock tips each box vertically so that its opening dispenser imitates a cross. Despite

this intervention, in a secular society it is possible that the boxes remain simply that, boxes. But

this is not the interpretation Braddock is after. Heightening their religiosity are the ethereal light ing

in the boxes and the wires draped between each form. But how does a Minimalist read ing affect

this work? What if, in Stella's terms, these metal boxes 'are what they are', so that we do not see

the sacred , but merely the box?

In his recent writing on Minimalism, James Meyer describes the contemporary

understanding of minimal form as a debate rather than a movement. His interpretation opens up

Minimal practice, allowing us to consider it beyond the work of Carl Andre, Dan Flavin, Donald

Judd, Sol LeWitt and Robert Morris, and thi nk through ways in which artists continue to engage

with the Minimal lexicon. For his part, Braddock is working with readymade industrial materials,

in simple geometric units, and he presents these in a similarly geometric order designed to reveal

their sameness, their abjectness rather than their composition or construction. There is an absence

of the artist's hand at work. They do not reveal the process of their making or their maker; they are

'non-expressive' , and have no 'hierarchy'. There is also a characteristic attention to the materiality

of the industrial finish highlighted in Sanitate through lighting effects. However, it is through

symbolic association that Braddock undermines the fundamentals of Minimalist art. "Minimal

work does not allude", according to Meyer, "to anything beyond its literal presence, or its existence

in the physical world"2 . But even if the viewer does not read the religious iconography, these

readymades have, at the very least, a symbolic association with something other than the purely

formal , as components of the modern bathroom. Their Minimal form , typified as serial , neutral,

and anti-subjective, has been given an expression and, furthermore, a fa ith through the interventions

of the artist.

' James Meyer, ed. Minimalism' Themes and Movements, London, Phaidon Press Limited, 2000, p. 15.

8 Sanitate Pages 6-7, Votive Mutations, 1999, ribbon, tin and chromed steel, dimensions variable. Opposite, Sanitate, 2004, (detail) tissue-box dispensers, electric cables, lights, lacquer, 7000 x 23000 x 65 mm.

I 7 A

the church In an interview published in 1992 Braddock commented that "sculptures are symbolic of the

transition of meaning from one state to another".3 Here he alludes to the transition of materials

and/or objects into other socio-cultural states. In this interview, made soon after Braddock returned

to New Zealand , he defends his ongoing interest in rel igious subject matter from the concerned

interviewer airing his doubts about the reception of Catholic imagery in this country. Braddock's

interest in the transformational power of form motivated him to work with votive forms and

iconography throughout the 1990s. These forms were variously shown behind screens, inserted

into boxes, as singular forms, and more recently as tattoos on bodies and suspended decoratively

on gallery walls. Braddock's work titled Votive Mutations, 1999, was an important transitional

project for the sculptor. Displayed without surrounding sculptural structure and support, the small

tin-votive symbols were tied together with purple ribbon, left dangling decoratively from the gallery

wall. These ribbons broke down the autonomy of each form , showing them bound, wrapped,

hanging, living and clothed. They were precarious in the gallery space, not fully secured, and

more transitory than any of Braddock's previous work. The votives themselves infected a faith

upon this 'secular' space, transforming the gallery itself-they were decoration without the ritual.

In Sanitate the draped electric cable echoes the ribbon of such previous installations,

disrupting the uniformity of the tissue-boxes and giving them a decorative composition not otherwise

apparent. As in the relationship between the 'cross' and the box, it is as if Braddock is looking to

reform these repositories. What links Braddock's use of the votive forms is their intervention with

different forms of repository- the gallery space, the cube, and the body. In Repository 1 , 2001,

Braddock made a mirror and glass box which is inserted into the gallery wal l. The floor of the box

is covered in a surface of flocked red cushion with an impression of a votive form, so that when the

viewer peers in to inspect the precious cased object they are caught in a mirror effect which also

encloses them in the box space.

In Repository 1 and in Sanitate it is not just a question of imposing faith on a 'neutra l'

platform, but also fusing their real-world association with both hygienic wipes and contemp­

orary faith.

3 Chris Braddock in Christopher Braddock. Auckland: Gow Langsford Gallery, 1992.

Opposite: Repository I (detail), 2001, flocking on foam, mirror, light and chromed steel, 500 x 500 x 400 mm. I Sanitate 11 Collection of the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa.

the human stain

"Ninety-eight in New England was a summer of exquisite warmth and sunshine

... and in America the summer of an enormous piety binge, a purity binge, when

terrorism- which had replaced communism as the prevailing threat to the country's

security-was succeeded by cock-sucking, and a virile, youthful middle aged

president and a brash, smitten twenty-one-year-old employee carrying on in the

oval office like two teenage kids in a parking lot revived America's oldest communal

passion, historically perhaps its most treacherous and subversive pleasure: the

ecstasy of sanctimony." -Philip Roth , The Human Stain.

Sanitate is the work Braddock completed immediately after his four-month residency in New York

at the beginning of 2004. While in New York he began working directly with materials at hand,

making impressions of his own form and casting his limbs into silicon. These works were a

continuation of a series called Fleshly Worn and an exhibition titled Push both begun in New

Zealand in 2003, and they make an interesting departure from his previous work with votives.

Although Braddock often manipulates the iconography of trad itional votives, they are largely pre­

established forms, and recognisable within a symbolic tradition. Through the Fleshly Worn series

in New Zealand and New York, Braddock inserts his own flesh into the mould . However, rather

than casting a representation of the artist, the process captures an imprint of the performative

action- between body and material.

In an interview made during the residency Braddock was asked to comment on his own

body, not the symbolic but the actual, to which he replied , "I'm a means to an end, I'm a vehicle".4

This off-the-cuff comment is revealing of Braddock's personal religiosity, and his belief in the body

as a container and repository for faith . In Fleshly Worn's departure from the iconographic, Braddock

re-engages with the period of late Minimalist practice, best known through the work of Lynda

Benglis and Eva Hesse, which saw the human body used symbolically to implode the very non­

relational aspects of Minimalist art.

While living in America through the recent 'war on terror' in Iraq, Braddock was struck by

the use of Christian language to whitewash events taking place offshore. Language was util ised in

political contexts as if the reassertion of values that it represented might disengage the public from

the associated destruction and death of that war. As if any language or object could be merely a

vehicle. Braddock wonders about the ongoing relevance of a spiritual tradition that is structured

as non-relational. Where religious form is admired over the practice of faith.

The Christian iconography in Sanitate originates quite literally from publ ic hygiene. In

this case, hygiene is used as a metaphor for society's distancing of the undesirable aspects of

human behaviour. Although lovely in its form and finish, both religious and minimal, Braddock's

work cautions the viewer against sanctimonious hygiene. Similarly he uses the readymade Minimalist

aesthetic of these boxes to draw on the language of non-relational art and to argue for its failure in

art as in life. Or, more accurately, Braddock presents us with a scenario whereby error is an a priori part of language systems, and that error is most often characterised and symbolised as

human. In Braddock's art we look out for the human stain, as it compels us towards faith.

' Tim Wilson, 'Body doubles in silicon' , The New Zealand Herald, 2 June 2004, p. 88.

I

Opposite, Push (detail), 2003, plaster and provenance labels, each unit 298 x 210 x variable depth - installation variable. Notes, a project for

12 San itate pp31-45, Auckland. 26 impressions of the artist's right hand and wrist in plaster blocks with accompanying provenance labels for each block. The provenance formats are adapted from the The J. Paul Getty Trust & College Art Associates site for descnbmg a work of art. Pages 14-15, 9 Imprints from the Fleshly Worn Series (detail), 2003, silicon, dimensions variable. Chartwell Collection, Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tamaki

) ,

)

I I /;

./ / J I

/ -I

I \ .1 I I

I J I J

I , I

., /

// / I I I

/ //

J

I

},

I I

I I

/

Ch r is Braddock t alks with hi mself

I New York City, May 2004 1

The Bathroom Collection

Sorry, but more than one, it is always necessary to be more than one in order to speak, several

voices are necessary for that ... 2

Let's begin w ith the various collections around the stud io walls.

They're collections of bathroom accessories begun in Auckland and continued in New York City. The

chrome tissue-box dispensers came via Caroline Rothwell. She had loads of them stored away in

reserve at the now defunct City Workshop studios that we shared in Auckland's St Benedict's St. She

couldn't get round their proximity to my work and, after about two years, she handed them over.

You said it continues here in New York City?

My project adds to the collection from friends' bathrooms I stay with in New York City. It's useful

on a four-month residency to start with an ongoing project and connect it to some kind of loca l

content. The collection now includes a white enamelled metal cross-shaped cabinet from Hilary

Niederer's apartment in the East Village and a cross-shaped bathroom brush from Anthony Goicolea

and Richard Orjis in Williamsburg. And over on the other wal l is a set of US plughole fi lters- those

little stainless steel discs perforated with holes to catch hair and other body waste as they slip

down the drain.

So you left all your friends with no fi lters in their drains?

I bought duplicates for those ones based on the filters I found in their apartments, and a few extras

I liked the look of ...

Monique Jansen recently said you're like a magpie because the objects are all hard and shiny. It's

true that there's nothing soft in your collections. So what guides you in choosing the objects?

1 At the time of writing, I've taken up the Creative New Zealand Arts Council of New Zealand Toi Aotearoa Visual Arts Residency in New York City at the International Studio and Curatorial Program on West 39" Street. 2 J. Derrida, 'Saul le Norn (Post-Scriptum)' in On the Name. Stanford. Stanford University Press, 1995, p. 34.

Pages 16-17, Sanitate, 2004, tissue-box dispensers, electric cables, lights, lacquer 7000 x 23000 x 65 mm. I Opposite, US Plug-hole Filter Collection (detail). Note, collected by the artist February - May 2004, NYC Sanitate t 9

Above, Bathroom Collection (detail). Note, collected by the artist February - May 2004, NYC

What initially attracts me to the bathroom collection is an overlay of minimalist aesthetics with

everyday objects, which might explain the hard edges. I've aimed at such an overlay in past works

that reference air-conditioning vents (Vents, 1999), cake tins (Safe, 1999) and cricket groin­

guards (Continuum, 1997).

They're also typological .. .

The plughole filters are strictly typological, while the other objects are only typological when based

on these notions of overlay in my past works. I like this in that the 'type' being collected is self­

referential . These objects store body products, scrub the body and wipe the body. It's the body's

maintenance and cleansing in association with religious notions that interest me.

Hence the crossed orifice that Caroline associated with your work. The coll ision between a common

rel igious sign and an object used to service the body. Vents aimed at similar conflations of sacred

heart, buttocks and drain holes recessed into the wall. Safe ach ieved this via mu ltiple cake tins

perforated with phallic cross designs based on a confessional gril le.

What struck us both about the dispensers is that I might have made them myself, a ready-made

version of my hand-made-ready-mades, the real th ing. I'm thinking that I don't have much work to

do at this point.

Yes and no. It's the process of exhibiting that is pivotal to these ideas of overlay. Collecting extracts

objects from their point of origin- a hospita l bedside or bathroom vanity unit- and posits them

somewhere else like a museum, that which Hal Foster describes as one of modernity's sites of

devotion. It's in this context that objects are verified differently, to the point that viewers may

become aware of an object's intrinsic prejudices. In this sense, the action of gathering objects

together suggests a relationship to both reframing by collection and the technology of the multiple.

For Benjamin, this describes a shift from original cult value to exhibition value, presenting new

ways in which the objects are authenticated, new means by which overlays are viewed. They

become fetishised aside from any original use at the so-called beginning of the production line or

original location.3

3 W. Benjamin, 'The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction' in Illuminations. London, Collins, 1970.

. I Above. Safe, 1999, tin, each unit 270 x 270 x 120 mm. lO Sanitate Opposrte, Vents, 1999, tin, electric cables and sound, each unit 137 x 170 x 15 mm. Notes. a project for pplO·lB, Auckland. The sound track emitted

through the vents combines the artist's reciting the 1662 Catholic Liturgy of Confession with the sound of the work's own making (tin snips).

2 Dunedin , June 2004

Let's begin with your treatment of the tissue dispensers. They're empty as opposed to fu ll of tissues.

The interior of the boxes are sprayed a pharmaceutical green/blue and fitted with lights. Here, it

was important that the dispensers were not operating as light-boxes, but more muted and suggestive

of survei llance-not overtly shedd ing light on a situation, but wearily surveying one. I was aiming

at aesthetic solutions of symmetry, proportion and grandeur that describe an uncomfortable alliance

-on the one hand, a dispenser of religious certitude and, on the other, a dispenser of moral

prohibition or sanitation inherent in the tissue-boxes and ideas of surveillance.

A Superficial Lustre

When you gave a floor-talk for the opening of Sanitate , someone suggested that your work was

rea lly superficial. Do you want to comment on that?

I wasn't sure how to take it at the time because superficiality has such negative overtones. Later

on, I started thinking about my work as seriously superficial- a fa'<ade that potentially hides some

other agenda. I'm the product of an Anglo-Catholic upbringing and was often surrounded by high

ecclesiastical pomp and ritual. To ask what such parade camouflages is as interesting a question

as what it celebrates. In this sense, a series of works from 1999 marked a turning point for me

such as Votive Mutations and A Stained White Radiance. Their titles suggest duplicitous intent­

a murky and flirtatious exercise under the guise of religious authority. The Roman Catholic Church's

current crisis of sexual abuse by priests comes to mind, but it is equally never my intent to

undermine the structures I critique.

Isn't this a problem in that the works sometimes risk reinforcing exactly that which they critique?

On the contrary, this dilemma is a driving motivation in that the work remains compl icit in any

hidden agendas. I would find anything else too simplistic. There's always a complex shuttling

behind superficiality.

Do you see yourself as a very politica l person?

I'm not an overtly political artist and I have an instinct for adjacency and ambiguity. Like the writer

Alan Bennett, I would agree that people of widely differing views are less interesting to listen to

22 Sanitate I

than people whose views are different but quite close together. The edges of emotion rather than

the extremes, melancholy rather than grief.4 The process of collecting, and particularly of

typological grouping, blurs the origins and possible meanings of objects. Such collections create

enigmas. It's exactly this disjuncture from cultural origins that provoked changes in Victorian

museum practice from typological systems of organisation to those of ordering by place of origin

or geographical system.

I understand that the tissue boxes are part of a larger co llection but how exact ly does Sanitate refer to co llecting?

Sanitate extracts one object from the Bathroom Collection and multiplies it. Like typologies, the

technologies of mass-production erase the origins and marks of production, operating as a lan­

guage of fac;ade and hidden agenda. It's the very nature of this language to be of two or more

minds. I recall a few years back giving my seven-year-old nephew a kite from Indonesia. While

tossing it to the floor in disgust, he exclaimed, "It's hand-made!" Thomas wanted the shine of the

mass-produced multiple, divorced from the signs of labour and the same as everyone else's toys at

school. Laura Mulvey discusses the implications of this cancelling of the signs of labour from the

product and how this emerges as a fetish for the duplicitous object. This process of disavowal is a

simultaneous belief and suspension of disbelief held in check by the fetishist. "A commodity's

market success depends on the erasure of the marks of production , any trace of indexicality, the

grime of the factory, and most of all, the exploitation of the worker. Instead, the commodity

presents the market with a seductive sheen, as it competes to be desired" .5

Mulvey's "seductive sheen" interests me as one way of viewing Sanitate. And there's also

the tissues, absent from the installation. The original proposal to the DPAG had a line of boxes full

of tissues for the taking at the base of the wall. While this got revised in the final work, the tissues

are still implicated in the objects' original use, signify a wiping of the traces of labour: a wiping of

sweat and grime and a cleansing of the body's waste. The body's sanitation interests me here , just

as the US plughole filters dam and collect the abject body- that which falls outside a coherent

system or moral order.

• A. Bennett, 'Colour' in Interior Worlds: the Year 2000, The World of Interiors, 2000, pp. 22-23. 5 L. Mulvey, Fetishism and Curiosity, London, British Film Institute, 1996, p. 4.

Opposite and above: Continuum, 1997, laquer on MDF and mirror, 190 x 2935 x 80mm. Collection of the Christchurch Art Ga llery. I Sanitate 23 Pages 24-25: Chandelier (detail) , 200 t, ribbon, nickel-plated steel and steel, 1900 x 1200 x 1200. Collection of the Wallace Arts Trust.

3 Last word:

Most of the bathroom collection is from New York City. Does this affect how you view Sanitate?

I was conscious of looking for objects with some kind of duplicitous intent or hidden agenda. One

of the things that most disturbed me during my time in America was the use of Christian rhetoric

to whitewash events taking place offshore. America's cleaning up of the Middle East in the name

of God and freedom, employing right-wing religious rhetoric not dissimilar to its Islamic counterpart,

is a stark reminder that religious convictions can become victim to political agenda. But it's the

extent to which this equation is disavowed, in the sense of the fetish , that's alarming. The

institutionalised body seriously believes itself as "acquitted" of blame through a complex deferral

to higher claims of religious morality and freedom whilst simultaneously suspending disbelief in its

more pragmatic desires for ownership of oil supplies and global dominion. Institutions like the

Apostolic Congress claim to be "the Christian Voice in the Nation's Capital" and fuel American

foreign policy on lsrael.6 One only has to be subject to American media for a short time to realise

the extent of the Right 's evangelical moral high ground in presidential rhetoric and policy.

Doesn't this contradict what you said earlier about not being a very political artist?

I can see that I'm at risk of being too literal as I draw comparisons between this parade of

religious certitude and that of Sanitate. This is a problem with talking about the work-it

presents a unique interpretation. It would be my wish to leave you in two minds. Several voices

are necessary for that ...

6 R. Perlstein, 'Bush Builds a Landing Pad for Jesus, How the Christian Rapture Guides Mideast Policy' in The Village Voice, 19-25 May 2004, pp. 32-36. The Apostolic Congress whose official seal is identical-save the text around the perimeter- to the US President's official seal, forcefully opposes the idea of a Palestinian state. They go as far as saying that all of Old Testament Israel belongs to the Jews and that until such a state is intact, and David's temple rebuilt, the second coming of Christ will not take place. Perlstein cites key emails to the National Security Counci l's top Middle East aide to back his claims.

. I Above, Permutations (detail), 2001, ribbon, chrome and nickel-plated steel, 2700x 1400 x 80 mm. 26 San itate Opposite, Chandelier, 2001, ribbon, nickel-plated steel and steel, 1900 x 1200 x 1200 mm. Collection of the Wallace Arts Trust.

Opposite background, Duct (purple), 2001, ribbon, chrome and nickel-plated steel, 2550 x 1400 x 80 mm.

Chris Braddock emerged as an artist in the early 1990s. He was born in Waiuku, South Auckland, New

Zealand. After completing a Bachelor of Fine Arts at the University of Canterbury he studied at the Ecole

Nationale Superieure des Beaux-Arts in Paris. In 1989 he completed a Master of Arts at London's Courtauld

Institute of Art in Byzantine Mosaics, and has pursued the history and theory of art in tandem with his studio

and teaching practice. Returning to Auckland in 1992 he began exhibiting with Gow-Langsford Gallery who

represent the artist in New Zealand. In 1994 he was included in Station to Station: The Way of the Cross, 14 contemporary artists at the Auckland Art Gallery, curated by William McAloon. Blazing Devotion featured in the

1998 exhibition Sharp and Shiny: Fetishism in Contempory New Zealand Art at the Gavett-Brewster Art Gallery,

New Plymouth, curated by John Hurrell. Together with Votive Mutations, exhibited at Gow Langsford Gallery the

following year, these works marked a turn in his work toward themes of the body, fetishism, minimalism,

ornamentation and Catholicism. In 2002 he exhibited in and co-curated Votive: sacred and ecstatic bodies at

the Adam Art Gallery, Wellington, and Dunedin Public Art Gallery. The show included Ian Breakwell, Cathy de

Monchaux, Pierre et Gilles and Megan Jenkinson. In this role of artist-curator he produced the BODYLOGUE

project in 2003 which included Gavin Hipkins and Kiki Smith. In 2002 he was included in Natasha Conland's

Past Presents: Looking into the art collection at Te Papa Tongawera Museum of New Zealand with the work

Repository 1. In 2004 he was recipient of the Creative New Zealand Arts Council of New Zealand Toi Aotearoa

Visual Arts Residency in New York City at the International Studio and Curatorial Program. In the same year he

had a solo exhibition with Galerie Romerapotheke in Zurich. Braddock is one of the founding members of pp, an

artist-run-project based in Auckland since 1998. He is Senior Lecturer in Visual Arts at the School of Art and

Design at Auckland University of Technology. He heads the Visual Art Theory and Professional Practice Programmes

and is Chair of the St Paul St Gallery complex in the School of Art and Design which opened in 2004. Collections

that hold his work include: The Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa; Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tamaki;

Chartwell Collection, Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tamaki; Christchurch Art Gallery Te Puna o Waiwhetu; The

Wallace Trust; Ecole des Beaux-Arts, Paris; and New Zealand Post.

Natasha Conland is Curator Art and Visual Culture at the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa with

particular responsibility fo(contemporary art. Recent exhibitions she has curated include Past Presents: looking

into the art collection, 2002, Rachel Chapman: sunny slight breeze, 2002, and the 2001 Sculpture commissions

for the Terrace. She was the curator of a major retrospective of New Zealand artist Judy Darragh in 2004 and

editor of the accompanying catalogue. Conland writes on contemporary art for a range of publications and in

2005 will be the curator of the New Zealand pavilion at the ,Venice Biennale.

28 Sanitate I Sanitate (detail), 2004, tissue-box dispensers, electnc cables, lights, lacquer, 7000 x 23000 x 65 mm.

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

Crowe, D. 'So, who cares about grammar these days anyway?', 4,. New Zealand Jewellery Biennale: Grammar:

Subjects & Objects, Wellington, Dowse Art Gallery, 2001 , pp. 10-12.

Dunn, M. New Zealand Sculpture: A History, Auckland, Auckland University Press, 2003, p. 167.

Hurrell, J. Sharp and Shiny: Fetishism in Contemporary New Zealand Art, New Plymouth, Govett-Brewster Art

Gallery, 1997.

Ireland , P. and C. Braddock. A Conversation between Christopher Braddock and Peter Ireland, Auckland and

Well ington, Gow Langsford Gallery, 1992.

Jackson, M. 'Unreasonable Passion', Votive: Sacred and Ecstatic Bodies , Wellington and Dunedin, Adam Art

Gallery and Dunedin Public Art Gallery, 2002, pp. 36-43.

Lonie, B. 'Votive: sacred and ecstatic bodies', Art New Zealand 103, 2002, pp. 50-51.

Lonie, B. 'Like watching ships pass in the night', New Zealand Listener, 31 July 2004, p. 48.

McAloon, W. 'Body and Soul' , New Zealand Listener, 19 January 2002, p. 55.

McFarlane. K. 'Stories, Objects and Masquerades: The Sharp and Shiny Show', Art New Zealand 85, 1997-98,

pp. 30-33.

McFarlane. K. 'Safe', Eyeline Magazine 42, 2000, pp. 34-36.

McFarlane. K. 'An Empty Page', pp 19-27, Auckland, Project Preview, 2000.

McFarlane. K. ' Incisions and Excesses', Votive: Sacred and Ecstatic Bodies, Wellington and Dunedin, Adam Art

Gallery and Dunedin Public Art Gallery, 2002, pp.10-19.

McNaught. J. 'First Impressions', Urbis, Winter 2004, pp. 123-125.

Millar, C. 'Voto', pp 1-9, Auckland, Project Preview, 1998.

Millar, C. 'Venting Interpretation', pp 10-18, Auckland, Project Preview, 1999.

Millar, C. ' Incised Skin and Other Spurs', pp 28-36, Auckland, Project Preview, 2001.

Millar, C. Bodylogue, Auckland, Gow Langsford Gallery, 2003.

Paton, J. Blind Faith: On Christopher Braddock, Auckland, Gow Langsford Gallery, 1993.

Pitts, P. Contemporary New Zealand Sculpture, Auckland, David Bateman, 1998, p. 28-29.

Wilson, T. 'Body Doubles in Silicon', The New Zealand Herald, 2 June 2004, p. B8.

Zepke, S. 'Enmeshed: Recent work by Christopher Braddock', Art New Zealand 72, 1994, pp. 60-63.

Zepke, S. 'Connecting Issues: Bodies in Question', Art New Zealand 78, 1996, pp. 64-67.

9 Imprints from the Fleshly Worn Series (detail), 2003, silicon, dimensions variable. Chartwell Collection, Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tamaki I San1tate 29

30 Sanitate I a-c from the Fleshly Worn Series, 2004, silicon, pearls and chromed steel, each unit c.1140 x 230 x 260 mm.

San itate Dunedin Public Art Gallery, New Zealand

20 June - 6 September 2004

All images courtesy of the artist, Gow Langsford Gallery, Auckland, and

Galerie Romerapotheke, Zurich, unless a specific collection is indicated.

Lighting Assistance: Peter Stoneham, Virtualight Ltd.

Installation Assistance: Andrew Geros

Project Manager: Blair Jackson

Editors: Mark Jackson, Athol Mccredie, Justin Paton and Priscil la Pitts

Catalogue Design: Karina Mcleod, Dunedin Public Art Gallery

Catalogue Printing: Tablet Colour Print

Photography: Richard Orjis and Chris Braddock

Chris Braddock would like to thank Esther Leigh; Caroline Rothwel l for the

tissue-box dispensers; Natasha Conland; Auckland University of Technology

Centra l Contestable Research Fund; Dunedin Public Art Gallery staff;

Richard Orjis, Anthony Goicolea and Hilary Niederer for loan of the

bathroom col lection; Gary Langsford, John Gow, Melanie Roger. Philippe

Rey, Silvia Lorenz; staff and students of the School of Art and Design at

AUT including Desna Jury, Ron Left and Heather Galbraith.

Published by the Dunedin Public Art Gallery and the artist, February 2005

ISBN 0-908910-40-1

©Dunedin Public Art Gallery, Chris Braddock, 2005

All rights reserved. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private

study, research, criticism or review as permitted under the Copyright Act,

no part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior written

permission of the publisher.

Dunedin Public Art Gallery

30 the Octagon

PO Box 566

Dunedin

Tel 64 3 474 3240 fax 64 3 474 3250 dpagmail@dcc.govt.nz

This publication is generously suppcrted by Auckland University of Technology

Central Contestable Research Fund and Dunedin Public Art Gallery.

AUCKU NO UNIVERSITY OF TECMHOLOG't' TE W4NAHGA t.llONUI 0 TAM.OJI.I MAKAU RAU

Page 32: c from the Fleshly Worn Series, 2004, (detail) silicon and chromed steel, c.1 140 x 230x 260 mm. I Sanitate JI Cover: Sanitate (detail), 2004, tissue-box dispensers. electnc cables. lights, lacquer. 7000 x 23000 x 65 mm.