I thought it would be good to share my first project brief here to help inspire me to write something for the class. Reading over it now I realise I dedicated a lot of time to the one man packing away the booths at the market. I can’t remember any specific details about clothing, or even what the stall even sold, but I just have this vivid memory of watching his hands and feet move in an almost dance. I think that’s why I was so absorbed in watching just him. Anyway, if anyone from class is reading this, than know that my idea for the packing robots has a few potential candidates, because if this one specific guy says no there are about 40 others who do the exact same thing.

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Languages, keys, Vietnamese music reminding me of Footscray market, this is what greets me at 3:35PM on a Tuesday evening at Vic Markets. There’s just containers of things, people and vendors alike leaving to pack up, but there are others in no rush. 3 older white ladies are haggling on the price of socks in a European language I have no chance of understanding. They want specific sizes I think, and the vendor leaves to collect more from the boxes she’s packed away already. There are trucks coming in and out at a steady pace. One leaves as two more fight to take its place. Streets packed with white vans, clean, old, rusted; used. Everything is displayed in easy to pack away containers and these vendors all work methodically, robotically to pack them away.  A man selling sunglasses packs box after box away, looking out across the street, no longer needing to think about this task. A young couple walk along the edges of the market, tattoos covering their arms and sunglasses on top of heads. They watch and walk, slowly and calmly, no real interest in the organised mayhem that’s happening. It sounds like chaos in here, echoing over the steel rooftops and concrete floors, but as time continues on we lose the growing sounds and dying sights. From this loud chaos comes cleanliness, like the vacuum that sucks everything up. We hear the madness but see nothing but order. Neat Frames and boxes, Tetris’d into more neat frames and boxes.

The old ladies from before leave now, victoriously strolling along with their carry bags and trolleys. Their shopping for the day complete, and the vendor wanting to finally go home and reap the benefits of a long day of work. The final piece are being packed away. No people talking and young men working, taking apart everything until there is nothing left.

A young Asian man works hard taking down the frames that make up the market, the barriers are being pulled apart, no true care on his face for these boundaries he’s breaking. The only thing that distinguishes him from a robot is the bop of his head as he listens to music on his headphones. He wipes sweat from his brow and takes a moment to collect the right pieces that need to be put away. Another system in place above all the chaos. First the top pieces, then the smaller sides, the long walls and finally the bottom anchor piece that ties this marquee all together. He must know the order back to front and by now have done this over a thousand times. The ease and calculated comfort in which he takes everything down only lets me assume so. There’s a slow determination, like he knows exactly how long it takes for him to get everything done.