The Universal Sea – Artist Open Call No. 2 is closed.
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10
Filmpack
Category: RE-act
933
Title:
Filmpack
Filmpack
Author:
Keeley Haftner
Keeley Haftner
Category:
RE-act
RE-act
Description:
Filmpack is a backpack made from 155 plastic bags, readymade details, and 3D printed compostable plastic buckles. The bag took 127 hours to crochet, and now operates as a functional sculpture that I wear in my daily life. I learned how to crochet plastic bags from my grandmother, Ruby Simons, who uses the method to produce multipurpose tote bags. Filmpack was made to replace a failing object (the long series of backpacks I have purchased and destroyed with use throughout my life) with a conceptual object (a sculpture), and to employ Michael Helms’ notion of agathonic design. That is, an object that improves with use, like a baseball glove. Agathonic design is the antithesis of planned obsolescence: a twentieth century invention promoting quick consumption through objects designed to fail with use. As Filmpack is used, the crocheted fabric softens and forms to the objects contained within it: the pocket echoes the shape of the water bottle it holsters, the straps begin to mold to the shape of my shoulders. The sculpture also acts as a social prompt; when I wear it, countless strangers comment on its uniqueness, frugality, simplicity and attractiveness. They often become inspired to use the simple process themselves to create objects of their own. But there is a contradiction in this sculpture: the plastic bags are a waste material that shouldn’t exist in the first place, and if cities and countries continue to ban them, then my source material will cease to exist. In other words, demand for the kind of world the bag proposes will decrease demand for the bag. This paradox echoes so many others in global-weirding: recycled roads made from tires that have burned and will burn oil to drive on them, increased demand for recycled plastic lumber made from waste plastics culled from the great pacific gyre, and the like. In this way, Filmpack acts as a propositional object akin to transition fuels: a strategy for immediate action while we await a future in which its existence is no longer necessary, or perhaps not even possible.
Filmpack is a backpack made from 155 plastic bags, readymade details, and 3D printed compostable plastic buckles. The bag took 127 hours to crochet, and now operates as a functional sculpture that I wear in my daily life. I learned how to crochet plastic bags from my grandmother, Ruby Simons, who uses the method to produce multipurpose tote bags. Filmpack was made to replace a failing object (the long series of backpacks I have purchased and destroyed with use throughout my life) with a conceptual object (a sculpture), and to employ Michael Helms’ notion of agathonic design. That is, an object that improves with use, like a baseball glove. Agathonic design is the antithesis of planned obsolescence: a twentieth century invention promoting quick consumption through objects designed to fail with use. As Filmpack is used, the crocheted fabric softens and forms to the objects contained within it: the pocket echoes the shape of the water bottle it holsters, the straps begin to mold to the shape of my shoulders. The sculpture also acts as a social prompt; when I wear it, countless strangers comment on its uniqueness, frugality, simplicity and attractiveness. They often become inspired to use the simple process themselves to create objects of their own. But there is a contradiction in this sculpture: the plastic bags are a waste material that shouldn’t exist in the first place, and if cities and countries continue to ban them, then my source material will cease to exist. In other words, demand for the kind of world the bag proposes will decrease demand for the bag. This paradox echoes so many others in global-weirding: recycled roads made from tires that have burned and will burn oil to drive on them, increased demand for recycled plastic lumber made from waste plastics culled from the great pacific gyre, and the like. In this way, Filmpack acts as a propositional object akin to transition fuels: a strategy for immediate action while we await a future in which its existence is no longer necessary, or perhaps not even possible.
Description:
Filmpack is a backpack made from 155 plastic bags, readymade details, and 3D printed compostable plastic buckles. The bag took 127 hours to crochet, and now operates as a functional sculpture that I wear in my daily life. I learned how to crochet plastic bags from my grandmother, Ruby Simons, who uses the method to produce multipurpose tote bags. Filmpack was made to replace a failing object (the long series of backpacks I have purchased and destroyed with use throughout my life) with a conceptual object (a sculpture), and to employ Michael Helms’ notion of agathonic design. That is, an object that improves with use, like a baseball glove. Agathonic design is the antithesis of planned obsolescence: a twentieth century invention promoting quick consumption through objects designed to fail with use. As Filmpack is used, the crocheted fabric softens and forms to the objects contained within it: the pocket echoes the shape of the water bottle it holsters, the straps begin to mold to the shape of my shoulders. The sculpture also acts as a social prompt; when I wear it, countless strangers comment on its uniqueness, frugality, simplicity and attractiveness. They often become inspired to use the simple process themselves to create objects of their own. But there is a contradiction in this sculpture: the plastic bags are a waste material that shouldn’t exist in the first place, and if cities and countries continue to ban them, then my source material will cease to exist. In other words, demand for the kind of world the bag proposes will decrease demand for the bag. This paradox echoes so many others in global-weirding: recycled roads made from tires that have burned and will burn oil to drive on them, increased demand for recycled plastic lumber made from waste plastics culled from the great pacific gyre, and the like. In this way, Filmpack acts as a propositional object akin to transition fuels: a strategy for immediate action while we await a future in which its existence is no longer necessary, or perhaps not even possible.
Filmpack is a backpack made from 155 plastic bags, readymade details, and 3D printed compostable plastic buckles. The bag took 127 hours to crochet, and now operates as a functional sculpture that I wear in my daily life. I learned how to crochet plastic bags from my grandmother, Ruby Simons, who uses the method to produce multipurpose tote bags. Filmpack was made to replace a failing object (the long series of backpacks I have purchased and destroyed with use throughout my life) with a conceptual object (a sculpture), and to employ Michael Helms’ notion of agathonic design. That is, an object that improves with use, like a baseball glove. Agathonic design is the antithesis of planned obsolescence: a twentieth century invention promoting quick consumption through objects designed to fail with use. As Filmpack is used, the crocheted fabric softens and forms to the objects contained within it: the pocket echoes the shape of the water bottle it holsters, the straps begin to mold to the shape of my shoulders. The sculpture also acts as a social prompt; when I wear it, countless strangers comment on its uniqueness, frugality, simplicity and attractiveness. They often become inspired to use the simple process themselves to create objects of their own. But there is a contradiction in this sculpture: the plastic bags are a waste material that shouldn’t exist in the first place, and if cities and countries continue to ban them, then my source material will cease to exist. In other words, demand for the kind of world the bag proposes will decrease demand for the bag. This paradox echoes so many others in global-weirding: recycled roads made from tires that have burned and will burn oil to drive on them, increased demand for recycled plastic lumber made from waste plastics culled from the great pacific gyre, and the like. In this way, Filmpack acts as a propositional object akin to transition fuels: a strategy for immediate action while we await a future in which its existence is no longer necessary, or perhaps not even possible.
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