‘Words, words, fucking words - stuck in my throat not as the song I was intending, more like “a mouth full of feathers”, as Tom Waits once described the laboured process of song writing. Dumb, stupid and mute, I am deceived. Deceived by the world of objects and the language to express them.’
In this supposed age of austerity, Ducker’s new works transform the consumerist object to reference the body as a site where language is a conflict between the desired and the expressed. By evoking the monumental and revealing the formal void of the object, the work explores this site of disenchantment. It is a case of ‘wrong place, wrong time.’
