Karen MacKinnon
Whether watching Paul Granjon perform with his cast of crazy robots, witnessing the hilarious fabrication of low technology inventions in his video works 2 Minutes of Entertainment and Experimentation (1995-1998) or entering the strange world of his gallery installations you know youre in for a treat.
Granjon's funny and bizarre approach may entertain, but this friendly surface lulls the viewer into a false sense of security. Sooner or later a feeling of unease develops that belies more complex concerns.
What could be unsettling about Rabbit-Robot (2001), a robotic toy bunny that repeats the words "rabbit robot" endlessly or his Automated Forest (2001) complete with gentle sounds of water, robot birds and weathered garden furniture? Is there something disturbing about the absurdity of making a sausage speak in The Cybernetic Parrot Sausage (1996)?
The strength of Granjon's deceptively playful creations is that they lead us to more complex and worrying territories, uncanny places that we recognise but simultaneously feel uncomfortable with. Esoteric worlds of technology and science, which we experience as outsiders but do not fully inhabit or understand. Darker thoughts about humans and machines, the irreversability of technological progress, scientific experimentation, access to technology, life science, power and accountability creep into our consciousness.
Granjon's practice also suggests more hopeful scenarios, his DIY approach and his use of redundant technology demonstrate that the detritus of the technological revolution may be harnessed and put to very different uses by artists. These outmoded tools ditched for the latest model by multinational corporations may be deconstructed and reassembled to ask pertinent questions concerning the social and cultural ramifications of science and technology in our everyday lives.
February 2001.
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