Three doors from a home in london, made to revolve rather than hinge from one side, framed within a steel enclosure. The doors are not spaced far enough apart to freely spin; when they rotate they slam up against one another making a jarring shot of sound.

 

The doors become toys, a giant plaything. The viewer can stand to one side and spin them by hand; allowing them to crash together or attempt to spin them in a pattern, narrowly avoiding one another, or they can weave their body in-between the doors in a flurry-like dance. The revolving door in contradiction to this act of play has the connotation of the high-rise office blocks and large corporate entities foyers; subverting the common relationship we have with them.

 

The sound is instrumental. Violent or playful. The motion flows and abruptly stops. Over the course of an installation, wood and paint chipping collect at its base.

Conor Ackhurst