More on the cardboard tent.

Once the idea took on some physical form I could see chasm between intention and object - and it was deep wide and vast. The cardboard tent was meant to be a fragile temporary structure in which 2 elements of the environment could be revealed. From the outside the work would appear to be an unassuming banal cardboard structure, but inside it would be a decorated shrine in which visitors could intimately experience the materials of earth and light. But the gentleness of light and earth were quickly becoming overwhelmed by the thick heavy handed clunkiness that the mass of cardboard was forming.

A tent in my mind is a delicate temporary shelter, it yields to the wind, it absorbs the moisture of dew and rain, it reveals the light of day turning into night and then into dawn, inside it you can hear the environment moving and feel the uneven surface of ground and rocks and grass - unlike a building it is not severed from its environment. The mere shift of material from canvas to cardboard, however, dramatically eradicated these sensitive qualities.  In order to make it sturdy enough to withstand the elements, and because I need to engineer it in such a way that the walls could support the ceiling and it could be large enough to stand up in, the tent took on all the insulated presence and permanence of a double fronted brick veneer home.

What became clearer over a beer with an honest and generous friend was that I had created the opposite of my intentions. It was time for the tent to go.