Sarah Pirrie - Northern Territory
All around us are Temporary Fences. They are time capsules within neighbourhoods staging moments of recovery, change and sometimes tragedy. If we look for these markers on our landscape we can see becoming places in a state of flux. Once the fence is removed the identity of the site is static and unassuming, revealing little of the drama it once held.
Temporary fences are often decorated. Obvious imperatives to protect and warn us from danger inside the fence, they are often seen with aging fluorescent ribbons, signalling what lies beyond and reinforcing the instruction the fence has already implied. On other occasions the fence might act as a site of memorial. Temporary Fences assembled after a fatality, may have flowers, messages and cards attached to the outer surface of the fence to remember loved ones lost at the accident site.
When things are attached to a temporary fence they also become temporary. Their existence is captured on the surface of this temporal time capsule and becomes one with the fence itself. Their former identity is also dissolved within the tension of the wire, its properties as a grid and its relationship with notions of inside and outside. These temporary public marks or graffiti provide statements about function that others may read and instantly understand.