â€˜Junkitectureâ€™ is a clever term, combining design and â€˜wasteâ€™. But what if the materials used for buildings, for sets, for props, for puppets, for the vehicles and floats of parades, were thought of simply as â€˜materialsâ€™? Of course, they would have a special value orÂ feel if they had been used for something else. But to call them â€˜junkâ€™ is toÂ share the attitude that separates the ‘new’ from what we think of asÂ ‘waste’. What is happening with the use of materials in the arts that have aÂ history can often be more of Â a valorisation of consumerism and excess, aÂ celebration of trash as â€˜trashâ€™ or salvage, than a critique of waste or anÂ affirmation of recycling.
What if no special claims could be made for using reclaimed or recycledÂ materials because it was commonplace? Then, what would be remarked on wouldÂ be the design, the space or object itself, and the qualities that theÂ materials brought to it.
The Jellyfish Theatre building was enchanting for its design and for itsÂ transiency, a theatre space in a symbolic shape, assembled fromÂ what was to hand, played in, and then dispersed, the theatre becoming againÂ the material that it was, maybe to be used again, having acquired anotherÂ layer of history.