settings, Lauren Printy Currie

settings, Lauren Printy Currie, four-channel audio, 2017, Saturday 25 – Tuesday 28 November 2017 I now get to see to see how the summer month light changes to winter month light. And I can read the weather by the sound the tyres make on the road outside. The ceramic-tiled corridor forms a wind tunnel: inhales at night, sighs in the early morning. A fox stayed overnight. Slugs come to die, leave trails which evaporate, the carcass drying out. The tunnel’s glassy spectrum is the colourways for the posters; LPC is umber, HM is blue, RT is greying white, AG is hazard yellow, CS is coal. I am thinking about the debris in the flat when Lauren first came here to talk about the work: stacks of greyscale and colour print, orange towels, sharp yellow notepaper, even sharper pencils, cardboard boxes, road, grass and human powder. I think of the flat since then as an instrument and a subject. Collaging in. Searching the flat and the building’s past through previous occupants’ post, archive photography from the library, finding the fireplace design in a fat elongated catalogue of the Carron Ironworks models from the late 1920s and 30s, rendered as a unique diagram in watercolour at the archives at Falkirk’s Callendar House, with rooms adorned in gold leaf and far-too-large chandeliers. A previous owner kept birds, a parrot and rare mynah bird and had a drinks trolley for very strong cocktails for weekend parties. I wonder which of these voices is real.