Peter Kirby

'Walk towards Infinity' ( 2013 )

80 x 180 x 70 mm, Cotton, stone and kelp salvaged from Vault beach
Unique Edition of 1 for Material

Price: $100

Peter Kirby

'The Exact Middle' ( 2013 )

50 x 100 x 80 mm, Twine, plastic beads, flint salvaged from Bexhill Beach
Unique Edition of 1 for Material

Price: $100

Peter Kirby

'All The Things' ( 2013 )

14 x 100 mm, Cotton, rubber tube salvaged from Vault beach
Unique Edition of 1 for Material

Price: $100

Peter Kirby

'Women are Weather, Men are Land' ( 2013 )

30 x 160 x 110 mm, Plastic letters, unidentifiable foam salvaged from Vault beach
Unique Edition of 1 for Material

Price: $100

Peter Kirby Peter Kirby


Abridged Sentences for Sol LeWitt
—Peter Kirby

  1. The rate at which the brain dies in heat
  2. Flying fish are the shooting stars of the sea
  3. She read so fast she sweated. He wrote so slow the ink solidified before it left the nib
  4. Luck is meteorological – storms bring fortune
  5. Introduce a legal requirement for adults to cry “OUT” when they have excreted
  6. Rain fucks the sea with its infinite dying sperm
  7. The shyest shallowest rainbow water-skis the horizon
  8. Swimming in the sea breeds world peace
  9. A building made entirely of ladders
  10. Writing awakens, reading sleepens
  11. Land and cloud symmetry – climatological courtship
  12. Shade massages your thermostat
  13. Write a story without verbs
  14. The removal of concentration in the world and its illiterate effects
  15. Vertical wind weather report, gale force from below or above
  16. Rainbows in new shapes
  17. Eyes are tidal – this is why sleep is so tough to hold back
  18. Every new born is given a new word by law
  19. Ideas are fairies – they don’t exist until they are clinically proven
  20. Mexican wave of yawns, fucks, deaths, births and suicides
  21. Guilt and its irrepressibility
  22. To write in a boat that just drifts, no sail, no rudder, no destination, a man on a raft
  23. The sea is the epicentre of optimism, while all land loves a whinge
  24. Wet paper is how a tree grieves, the last threads of strength
  25. Bless these pages every day with a lick
  26. A city of hermits
  27. Mute carpenter carves mahogany monkeys, while mutant ant signs rubber plant leaves with its teeth
  28. The sea is 77 billion highly organised eddies
  29. Every notebook needs a dollar jammed in it to barter your way out of a mugging
  30. Fall into the sea, alone, anude, adrunk
  31. Swim 100 strokes crawl and the same back on your back staring at the glory of the almost full moon
  32. Dare the sentence that has no end, a gap of a middle and a forgotten start
  33. Lower body temperature electrifies brain cells that have suffered a fortnight’s stroke
  34. Orphaned doll scandal unearthed by social services
  35. Write at the speed you read – for every novel you read, write one
  36. Instigate a debit/credit current account for writing & reading, but arrange an overdraft first
  37. When you are stuck, stare at your left thumb
  38. The less you care about your dress, your hair, your breath, the better you write
  39. Raw de-waxes the words that hope to be blown the furthest
  40. Farthest and furthest, there’s not much between them
  41. Wake up feet first
  42. Dress in curtains
  43. Wall of dummies, floor of gripper strip, ceiling of water
  44. The last hot day for 6 months guarantee
  45. Take a fly on a lead for a walk/fly
  46. Everyone’s flatulence smells the same on a plane
  47. She was an ethnographic failure-maker
  48. Write about what you have a surplus of – indecision
  49. Make words by walking, by sleeping, by breathing
  50. Focus, for fuck sake, focus
  51. Idjit – unlearn to read
  52. Make the reader take responsibility for the meaning of this work
  53. Autobiographies are always fiction
  54. Write a novel in a gallery and publish it on the closing night private view
  55. Writing Doorways versus Painting Rooms
  56. The improbability of death – lose 4 family members individually in one year
  57. Creative Landfill – 3 times a week they come to collect and buy thoughts to fertilise uninspired towns or worn out soil for crops
  58. Football & art are equally spoilt children
  59. Moonlit raindrop shadows are unimaginably beautiful – a rash of aesthetic perfection
  60. Writing is fishing – cast enough sentences and one will gaff something for the keep net, to be stuffed, filleted or eaten whole, only the catch can say
  61. Only ever write with a triangular pencil
  62. A novel written standing up
  63. Stop walking, wait until someone comes alongside, then start again on their shoulder
  64. Use parking meters to rest on while writing a novel dedicated to Kerouac
  65. All the things you said you’d never do but did V all the things you said you’d do but never did V all the things you said you’d never do and never did V all the things you said you’d do and did
  66. Being a late developer is a patient instinct
  67. Knuckles bleed from writing – hair has worn away on right hand baby finger
  68. As you read the book the words evaporate and disappear – you wipe its memory
  69. More concerned about the stubby lead running out in the pencil than you are about the quality of the content
  70. Robert M Pirsig’s IQ at 10 was 178
  71. The positivity of NO – refuse 100 things in a day
    -- Refuse a bag
    -- Refuse a seat
    -- Refuse a receipt
    -- Refuse a free paper
    -- Refuse a plaster
    -- Refuse antibiotics
    -- Refuse a job
    -- Refuse to hold in a fart in public
    -- Refuse a present
    -- Refuse a big desk
    -- Refuse a compliment
    -- Refuse a fight
    -- Refuse an invitation to go first
  72. Breath louder and louder through your nose until someone notices
  73. The less you saddle yourself with the more defined your work
  74. It’s so hot a man is moulding a supine horse into the tarmac of the road
  75. The very act of thinking about something brings about its happening
  76. Never write at a desk
    -- Never write in a desk
    -- Never write under a desk
    -- Never write against a desk
    -- Never write to a desk
  77. A man from Mali who sires a child every year from 15 to 77
  78. New concentrated sleep – 8 hours worth condensed into 1 hour leaves you fresh to drive heavy machinery 23 hours a day
  79. Use an entire pencil, a carpenter’s pencil
  80. Write in the dark, judging the lines and legibility by the minimal movement of the pencil, the baby finger as a spirit level and the knuckles as a return key
  81. Sit left leg over right and the pencil becomes a divining rod that seeks out the last drops of water in the page
  82. What a wonderful splurge life can be if you get up early enough
  83. Nine standby lights are on, tiny embers of cold electricity waiting to go to bed once each machine goes green with use
  84. The line that says nothing
  85. The line that seconds the say-nothing-line’s mute stance
  86. The noisy line of substance that is angered by the Buddhistic bollocks of fannying around in the present tense
  87. The page that feels the book lacks direction, purpose, story, talent, commerciality, engagement, hope, magic, maturity, voice, characters, plot, pictures, legibility, depth, quality, value, risk, form, control, narrative, humour, dialogue, prose, rhyme, re-readability, play and something to change your life
  88. The page that defends the book in published court and says it teems with mood, instinct, desperation, freedom, experimentation, conviction, failure, ideas, non-ideas, naivety, verve, confusion, cramp, perception, unruliness, belligerence,
    will, lucidity, nature, hunger, questions, light and boilerplate that guarantees this book will affirm your life
  89. Rent-a-eulogy
  90. Sit on kitchen floor next to dishwasher and translate the circular noise into conversation
  91. Being published is not the best option for this work
  92. Sit in a child’s tepee and pretend to be a longpig casserole left in arid heat for 3 months to hang-cook like biltong
  93. Write on your back with the pressure of gravity forcing the book down onto the pencil
  94. Write on an empty stomach and fast until the work is done
  95. Write modern prayers to be read aloud by 75,000 people in sync and in love
  96. Read to wake someone out of a coma – in loving memory of Nora Brown
  97. That lovely feeling of the mind warmed up and purring like a cat
  98. Cry through nose, ears, mouth, skin, hair, nails, etc
  99. CTE, the belligerence of ETC to say “I’m sick of being last, now call me by my full name – ARETECTE”
  100. When you’re stuck, stretch, it unknots ennui
  101. Human compost heap – snot, phlegm, scabs, wee, pooh, hair, fingernails, semen, blood, saliva, blister skin, eyelashes...
  102. O!H! M!Y! G!O!D! The masclamation mark
  103. It’s this rock’s birthday, it’s 4,600,000,000 years old today
  104. The trees crouch at night
  105. Camp on Christmas Eve, waking up in a forest to real living Christmas trees
  106. The thought supermarket opens tomorrow
  107. Solitude assistant
  108. Ideas and thoughts are by-products of the mind and must be treated as such
  109. An ebullient and serious dance is almost impossible
  110. She slowly siphoned 70% of the 50p pieces out of circulation and built a massive mosque out of them in a carpet warehouse in Norwood
  111. Notes taken while cleaning your teeth electrically include the dexterity of your left elbow to hold the left hand page flat
  112. Memoirs of a miscarriage: I am failure
  113. That periodic lump in your left throat isn’t really there
  114. Menage-a-une
  115. Chase the rain until you have drunk a pint of drops
  116. She always brought the subject back to inanimate objects
  117. Most people catch colds, she threw them, often nine at a time
  118. A glass wigwam with floppy glass doors
  119. Make a lampshade out of buttons
  120. He knocked with his elbow, so scarred were his knuckles from scrubbing
  121. Some words want to be written, others fight to be typed, a few yell to be said, a few pray to be heard and fewer still beg to be mute
  122. The words that harvest every feeling ever felt emptied into one big stew and left to simmer at 99.5 degrees for as long as we all shall live
  123. Draw around the saliva that just left your lip and fell down in the shape of ‘Madagascar swallowing a small goat’
  124. Make every note secondary to what you are doing – dictation of the subconscious
  125. Write the exact middle sentence of 1000 books
  126. Write from a posture of discomfort to angulate the content
  127. She had a Tesco Value heart
  128. He kissed her on the end of every hair of her head
  129. 917 moments = 1 slowment (this is imperial emotion)
  130. Clad lampposts in the singular seeds of a fir cone
  131. 2 dollar bills are left in a book, they mate to procreate a $100 bill
  132. Peppermint tea belches are re-swallowable
  133. Every time we cross our arms we shave a second off our lives
  134. The yawncatcher, stores yawns in vats to help terminally ill people die easier
  135. If you ever commit suicide, tell me first how you did it
  136. Throwing money at a relationship never works, and if it does, get out quick
  137. She left the hen night early for her own funeral
  138. Be a detective of betweens, the things that happen or don’t happen between the more obvious memorable things
  139. He never dabbed the pen on his tongue but he did dry the pencil, thermometer like, under his arm. The lead deposit grew until a forest of carbon had amassed to fuel a moped for a mile
  140. World’s calmest man contest
  141. Old year’s resolution – fuck the past tense
  142. Every person has the same amount of ups and downs. Luck is fair and split evenly. Tragic lives on the public outside are counterbalanced by inner private luck and optimism. This is the law of democratic emotion
  143. C-section scar reunion
  144. Adapt a pamphlet, a business card, a napkin, a letter, a tombstone, a manual, a parking ticket, a game, a joke into a feature film
  145. The language spoken by all 6 -18 month old babies, irrespective of race, wealth, environment or development is pre-speak,
    or free-speak, or ‘Bwoll’
  146. The homeless osteopath who does back realignment then sleeps on his fold-up bed
  147. The story will tell itself in time
  148. Her hair has 4x the breaking strain of a regular human being, like cotton to catgut
  149. Pain is worn. The use of clothing to describe it helps to treat it
  150. Reading re-directs writing. Reading revives writing. Reading reaffirms writing
  151. Write against the wall/door of a prison and feel marginally jumpy
  152. The near, mid and far readers hold their printed matter at distances ranging from 8 inches to 3 feet
  153. His giving up coffee is Iran giving up weapons
  154. Gather one year’s cut hair from a salon and plait it together to make a hammock that crosses a reasonable river
  155. Never know what’s coming is the screenplay
  156. A movie in memory of someone not yet born
  157. Write about a difficult age, make everyone that difficult age to stop it being difficult
  158. Mass synchronised fate – 17,000 people get hit by cars on a day in 2014
  159. Secondary sleep, sweat, grief, sex, hearing, growth, thought, love. Initial or primary actions and feelings are involuntary whereas secondary actions and feelings are unwilled, unplanned, spontaneous, unstoppable occurrences
  160. Her anger and frustration at the hardness of the ice-cream snapped to laughter once you pointed it out
  161. Public phone boxes are land mines
  162. Chefs trousers made with 100% mono-sodium-glutamate
  163. Feel the simmering fury of business coming on in a tiger balm rub
  164. V.A.L. Value Added Love. Love is taxed and assessed by HM Customs & Excise. Send in your VAL return by February 14th
  165. The spine of this publication is secreting the sweat of 1000 commuter’s arses
  166. Dye your blood. Get a new shade of red, or streak it white. Curly blood with hyper-circulation from Maybelline New York
  167. A body of works, a body of words, a body of walks
  168. Create a character out of granite
  169. Everyone is saying ‘fucking’, yet no one is having sex
  170. Prison for acts of goodwill, in a dystopic society
  171. Age 4 is the most beautiful we ever are
  172. Be a critic of art, books and films that don’t exist
  173. Inland Cliffs, meet Tidal Lakes
  174. The more time you create to speak, the less is said. Gaps tell stories Pauses. Silences Absences Emptiness Betweens
  175. He took off as pheasants fly, the arse leaving the ground half a second behind the rest of the body
  176. The French melamine tabletop bore 700 scars of domestic love and hate
  177. She sat in a café, kept warm by her own wind
  178. Odds & sods of cutlery & crockery make instant coffee taste home-made and stale cake taste moist
  179. Fires don’t go out, they hibernate
  180. Why are wolves always the villains? Why not a wolf picked on by a caterpillar? Or an alligator victimised by a moth
  181. Wear a headband and you shall write like Zadie Smith, grow a beard and you shall write like Hemmingway, brandish a gun
    and you shall write like Hunter S Thompson
  182. You cry dust – sawdust – this is how much you despised him
  183. She was unable to say the same thing twice
  184. Threadbare Catarrh – nice name for a band
  185. A film where we get great actors dressed as birds. Helen Mirren is a red-breasted Merganser. Emily Watson is a little egret. Vincent Cassells is a razorbill. John Cusack is a cormorant. A road movie in the air
  186. Rearrange keys on a keyboard before writing the story
  187. Geographical schizophrenia
  188. By our hands/brains/mistakes we live (delete two as necessary)
  189. Write beneath a swinging light, as the great moth authors do
  190. Today, the words are limpets and will not be gathered
  191. Wanting someone to come and sit next to you when there’s a carriage of empty seats
  192. What really makes the world go round...smiles, rights and mint imperials
  193. 2 people sit at a table, a third joins, then a fourth, and a fifth, sixth, up to a 26th even though it is a table for two
  194. Invent the equivalent of spectacles for noses (smell), ears (hearing), tongues (taste) and fingers (touch)
  195. Under this tiny table there is vast legroom
  196. Luck Conductors – like lightning conductors, they stop you getting struck by bad luck. Copper cables stapled vertically to trees
  197. Slowly, you realise your arse isn’t fat enough for this weather
  198. The shoes we wear govern our temperament – flip-flops in prisons
  199. Chins drop in the cold
  200. There are 1000 ways to wear a scarf
  201. Maybe, just maybe, the planet can save itself no matter how badly we treat it
  202. Where is better than who
  203. Fairly soon, girls’ sunglasses will be a face-sized disc with holes to breathe
  204. She would only awaken to the sound of pain or joy
  205. Lopped trees out-mime man by 17,000%
  206. The Depressed Balloon, a film about failure
  207. “It’s not what’s going to happen to us that matters, it’s what we do with what’s going to happen to us that matters” for distant Great Uncle Aldous
  208. The shorter the pencil lead becomes the deeper the thought it records
  209. Bobble hats according to the size of brain they are keeping warm
  210. His eye line swept from side to side as rhythmically as windscreen wipers
  211. Of your fingerprint, only the outer three rings would now show if you robbed a bank
  212. Make some very tiny and very strong ladders
  213. Weld a Rolls Royce and a Robin Reliant together – Rolls Reliant by Robin Royce
  214. It’s the bench that’s itching not your back
  215. Our last hope with earth is cosmetic surgery to the moon to stem the tides
  216. For ten minutes in the middle of the night the sun jumped out and said BOO!
  217. The slope of his beret was down to his prevailing thoughts
  218. The frizz of her hair was down to humidity and inclement dreams
  219. Prams and supermarket trolleys are 39 weeks away from being as one
  220. It is too cold to fart
  221. Writing in glasses, you feel fake and afraid
  222. Once a month, he felt a Carver surge, but rarely recorded it on paper
  223. When high tide cannot smooth over the frosted footprints in the sand, we can say it’s cold
  224. Be the most deadpan writer alive!!!
  225. The crease on a nose from a smile could solve world peace
  226. Every 72 hours you must be angry
  227. Finger nail as screwdriver
  228. Postage stamp as bookmark becomes part of the plot
  229. Write thoughts down assuming that you will recall why you loved them yet so often stare at them like clothes you bought but never wore
  230. A banana eaten fifteen minutes before it went bad
  231. Such is her relief to be asleep that the end of each snore there sings a tiny whistle
  232. If you turn left leaving home your day is marginally better
  233. A half-bunged up nose kept horizontal will unbung in 45 minutes
  234. When we are still and things are moving our mind is most active. When we are still and things are still our mind is least active. When we are moving and things are moving our mind is over active
  235. You have a phantom brain in your right knee
  236. If your dreams are difficult wear a seatbelt to bed, buckle up your lifejacket and crash helmet, then read the highway code
  237. Very young people and old people are know how the world works. Everyone in between struggles
  238. She didn’t watch the world go by, she made the world go by
  239. Despair weighs more than love, so much so, it sinks in stone
  240. Success gives you a certain fear in the way fear gives you a certain success
  241. Baa baa black sheep stuck in her head and affected the rhythm and intonation of everything she said
  242. Polar bear and killer whale are the biological parents of the panda
  243. At 2, she knew she’d become an Olympic Archer. The way she speared her peas said as much
  244. Go round underlining things/words that aren’t there
  245. The man who stood still while the earth spun
  246. Sleeping is a good use of time. Breathing is a great use of time. Living is a divine use of time
  247. It was a night when all the stars got stuck in a jam on their way home
  248. 1000 walkers all leave solitary start points and meet in the centre to eat. Then they return to their start points and shit
  249. The Inuit Crematorium was often closed for repairs
  250. You can tell a man’s intelligence from the small of his neck
  251. Grow vegetables like bagels with holes in the middle
  252. Our nostrils are never more than 100 yards from a sweet scent
  253. Our breaths are numbered – only so long to live in this slow-motion emergency
  254. Paris, Texas is an album to be buried to, but not cremated to
  255. Hundreds of awful opening lines – this is a book of failure
  256. He/she who draws knows and feels more about writing than those who write
  257. How far can a comma be away before it becomes a pencil scuff of isolation
  258. High tempo work prevents minor illnesses from getting jobs
  259. The more bevelled the pencil lead becomes the more defined the words
  260. The comfort derived from uncertainty
  261. Her eyesight drowned, she became blind through the tears of crying
  262. Puny Hero – the boat’s name
  263. She looked so sad in all her money
  264. Women are weather, men are land
  265. Everything was in a state of half-doneness, stories unpublished, songs & symphonies unfinished, floors part-swept, drinks half-full, ideas half-baked 266.100 steps with hands clasped behind back
    100 steps with hands clasped in front
    100 steps of walking while writing
    100 steps with hands in pockets
    100 steps with hands on head
    100 steps with arms folded
  266. Every 26th step, a hop. Every 52nd step, a jump. Every 78th step, a whistle
  267. Stop creating cancer in your body
  268. Start everything you say with YES!
  269. She never removed her make-up. Each day she applied a new layer. She wore 7 years of paint which on hot days, would bubble
  270. The feeling is déjà vu without time bullying its way in
  271. Weighty ideas written down with bookmakers William Hill biro on a napkin V a precious fountain pen and parchment to
    record a shopping list
  272. Where we learn to swim governs our personality
  273. Futoirs over memoirs
  274. His spite was such that he urinated on his neighbour’s post after eating asparagus
  275. Why are so many artists called Richard: Serra, Long, Wentworth, Dadd, Brautigan, Prince, Deacon, Wilson, Diebenkorn, Demarco
  276. Why are so many authors called Margaret: Atwood, Drabble, Truman, George, Laurence, E Johnson
  277. Why are so many writers called John: Updike, Fowles, LeCarre, Irving, Fante, Hawkes, Berger, Pilger
  278. A black and white dog and a black and white cat on either side of the road
  279. Never hem in a thought until a new one has begun. This is a violation of conceptual rights
  280. Wield & yield. Awake & aware. Look’n’mean-a-likes
  281. A listening stammer. A feeling stammer. A smelling stammer. A sexual stammer. An honesty stammer. An ambition stammer
  282. Out on a pier, that suspension of drowning
  283. Shadow cast in the colour of the sun
  284. By throwing the lifebelt and its holster off the bridge, he prevented someone’s life from being saved and killed 2 passengers
    on a tourist boat passing beneath the bridge
  285. Faroes tan – the colour for the C22nd
  286. Identical twins of the opposite sex and star sign
  287. She ate her apple like a hard-boiled egg, discarding the first bite of skin
  288. Watching two violent people fall in love over the period of 1 minute
  289. She spoke rarely in the day until you met then let go at 5 times the speed a man can listen
  290. As we age we are prone to winking our left eye in acknowledgement
  291. Only when he sat on a wall did he realise the weight of his ankles
  292. If there is ever a doubt, you can always tell the true sex of a human being by their laugh
  293. Danger: never be under the influence of an idea, however good it may seem
  294. Yes, to an uncertain extent, Yes
  295. Ask questions honestly or not at all
  296. Logic writes itself, stupidity needs a hand
  297. Walk towards infinity
  298. Knowing when to stop is innate, you’re born with it
  299. Their Western and Eastern ethnicities met halfway on a catwalk in Syria
  300. She created a field of paradox, she had to move and stay moving. This is why she showered and not bathed. And always
    slept in a hammock between 2 trees weak enough to sway with her breath but strong enough to just keep her bum off the floor
  301. Still pencil and moving paper
  302. She hid from ideas as they began to depress her with gigantic expectation – she would carry them to the canal and drown
    them in a sack
  303. One day, over coffee, on a bench, she worked out the maths. On a bike you get knocked off and die, but the more you cycle
    the better you cycle, but the more time you spend on the road, the greater the possibility of death, so she thought and expected to die all the time. This made her happy
  304. ‘Momentum’ is what being good at anything is really about, from sex to knitting to sleep
  305. The fall-out of forgotten thinking still idles at 83% in overheat mode. This book is nothing more than a mild coolant
  306. Funeral soundtracks given out on death to widows, lovers, pals and pets
  307. Laughter through the nose, the squeak-elch, is funnier than a fart
  308. If you don’t set out to pay the rent and make money, you will
  309. If you don’t set out to pay the rent and make money, you will one day not have to
  310. Noses are funnier than eyes, mouths & ears combined
  311. Love can’t buy you money
  312. The betterment of life is overrated. It is the greatest red herring imaginable
  313. She became obsessed with being last...last one away at the lights, last one in the queue, last one to come during sex, last one to cry at a funeral, she’d not get out of the bath until the last drop of water sank down the plug hole, she never left a crumb of food or a droplet of drink, she’d give homeless people her last coin each day, and before she shut her eyes each night she’d pray to George Bernard Shaw’s shroud above her bed and say: “Today George, I am thoroughly used up.”


Artist Bio

Peter Kirby is an artist and writer living at the end of a dirt track in Cornwall, England, with his wife and daughters. His work has appeared in galleries, books, journals, biennales, newspapers, museums, festivals and streets around the world, including The Guardian, Design Museum, LACE, Material Press, the secure vault of US Postal Service and Customs, Tate St Ives in collaboration with Richard Long and the first 2 London Architectural Biennales. His current work ranges from a traveling art school for wayward kids, to an ongoing process-led project that may well see the light of day when he’s long gone.


Artist Site

www.thisness.co.uk