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The Unknown City: Contesting Architecture and Social Space

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Part III: Tactics<br />

390<br />

23<br />

391<br />

Richard Wentworth<br />

RW: I think these photographs are as near as I’ll ever come to trying to pin<br />

down the moment of thinking that kind of thing, of revealing the potential of<br />

reverie.<br />

JK: That’s a very revealing idea, to talk about reverie in relation to your<br />

practice.<br />

RW: But describing it creates one of those telling oppositions; if reverie is a<br />

beautiful engine, who would want to pin it down <strong>and</strong> reveal it? It’s a typical<br />

human comedy, like saying “Aren’t butterflies wonderful, so bang a nail<br />

through them <strong>and</strong> stick them in a box.” But I like those spaces which seem<br />

to me to guarantee that they produce reverie, journeys sitting on the top of<br />

the bus, or speaking on the telephone: there’s a completely different space<br />

that you occupy when you’re on the telephone, which allows you to see the<br />

world as a sort of theater, like Jimmy Stewart does in Rear Window. I’m intrigued<br />

by the idea that humans are voyeuristic; it seems to me something<br />

that perhaps we ought to celebrate rather than try <strong>and</strong> prevent, because it’s<br />

unpreventable. It seems to me that it’s the engine of curiosity that you look,<br />

<strong>and</strong> as you look you name, <strong>and</strong> as you name you look more, <strong>and</strong> the whole<br />

process goes round.<br />

JK: When you’re actually walking on the street <strong>and</strong> seeing this striking relationship<br />

between the green <strong>and</strong> the white <strong>and</strong> the blue <strong>and</strong> the red object,<br />

to what extent is that something which just gives you pleasure for its own<br />

sake, or to what extent are you using it as a sketchbook, storing it up as<br />

something which will be useful in another place, to do something else—to<br />

make pieces, for instance?<br />

RW: Well there’s no obvious correspondence between the street <strong>and</strong> my work<br />

at all; the correspondence if there is any is that what I see on the street is a<br />

set of sympathies which I then try <strong>and</strong> allow in the work. <strong>The</strong> last thing I<br />

would want to do is to go to the studio <strong>and</strong> mimic, or mock up, or reengineer<br />

an event. I just want that apparent likeness, or banality, or set of oppositions,<br />

to come across.<br />

JK: So why do you feel the need to create a fix of this?<br />

RW: I feel rather ashamed, but I have realized recently that it’s because I actually<br />

want to tell other people about it; it isn’t enough for me to do it as an<br />

obsessive, private act. I want it to have other lives, even though if I died tomorrow<br />

nobody would know what to do with my slide photographs—most of<br />

them aren’t even captioned—so I’m the only person who really knows anything<br />

about them. Some of these pictures are very articulate, <strong>and</strong> some of<br />

them are just about the voice-over, or the caption. But there is some sort of

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