B.

Subtly engaging security

Behind the scenes

We've all heard the stories about confusions occurring on the edge where art meets life. The London cleaning lady, for instance, who threw out hundreds of cigarette butts that turned out to be a Damien Hirst. Naturally, no self-respecting gallery professional wants to see their favourite artworks confused with mere stuff.

Glen Hayward Closed circuit 2010. Rimu and acrylic paint. Collection of Christchurch Art Gallery Te Puna o Waiwhetū, gifted 2011

Glen Hayward Closed circuit 2010. Rimu and acrylic paint. Collection of Christchurch Art Gallery Te Puna o Waiwhetū, gifted 2011

But then again, when it comes to Glen Hayward's recent gift to the Gallery, there's a part of me that does. Amongst the three sculptures that Glen recently gifted to the Gallery, my favourite is the security camera—or rather, the piece of carved and painted wood that looks eye-foolingly like a security camera. When we reopen the Gallery I'd love to see this boxy object installed high on a wall, looking down on all the undisguised artworks in its line of view like a spy hiding in plain sight. I don't mean to diminish Glen's great gift in any way when I say there's a strong hint of mischief in it—a sense that, by smuggling this object into the collection, he's keeping an eye on us.