A voodoo doll for every billionaire

SEEKING PENNANTS: Brightly coloured pennants hung around Gisborne gave artist Conor Jeory the idea for his upcoming show, Billionaire Bunting. Picture by Rebecca Grunwell

A Childers Road fence hung with multi-coloured pennants did not look as festive as intended on returning from a chat with Gisborne artist Conor Jeory about his own bunting project.

For his show Billionaire Bunting, at Verve Cafe, Jeory plans to hang 250 hand-sewn effigies from 80 metres of cord made from plaited strips of black rubbish bags. The figures represent the more than 1000 (and counting) billionaires in the world.

“They represent one voodoo doll for every billionaire in the world. I figure they are energy withholders.”

Billionaires represent a denial of access to many other people, says Jeory. He cites one high-profile billionaire who makes more money on the interest on his wealth than he can channel into philanthropic endeavours.

“I’m realising this in a fit of impotent rage. Every time you open your browser, there’s another billionaire.”

It is an ongoing project, and the installation is a blend of the macabre and the festive.

“I got the idea from the multi-coloured flags hung around Gisborne. We have a history of bunting in Gisborne.”

The project began with a black plastic rubbish bag Jeory found on the beach. He cut the bag into strips, stretched each strip into a thread then plaited and spun those threads into rope.

He thought the rope looked a bit empty so he made a small effigy out of leather to hang off it and before he knew it he had a lot of them, he says. The soft figures are made from random pieces of fabric.

“I operate out of a dumpster.”

Bespoke dolls with their own quirksEach doll is bespoke. It has its own character. Some have long ears or a tail and some are deformed. Others have dollar-sign patches stitched to their torsos.

The penises and testicles several figures are endowed with suggest the erections hanging is said to bring about in men, except the dolls are soft sculptures, so the effect is pendular rather than priapic.

“The effigies looked a bit creepy so I bound their wrists and ankles. It’s an act of despair, then violence,” says Jeory of the noosed figures.

“Who’s hoarding the wealth? I thought ‘let the pitchforks come out’. Viva la revolucion.”

In the show, the bunting will zig-zag in a jaunty fashion overhead, he says.

“Unless you have humour in it, it’s a bit dark. As bunting it will look festive and jolly.”

The concept for the installation began in a cloud of effigies at the David Lloyd gallery in Hamilton.

The installation included a “crime map” of pictures and notes pinned to a wall adjacent to the effigy cloud.

“Basically, you had to weave your way through the cloud. That was a wonderful opportunity to see what the work looked like. I saw the possibilities of hanging and settled on the bunting idea.

“The cloud was a bit gallows, a bit dark. The bunting kaupapa is dark but there is a hint of celebration. After the dark came the Renaissance.”

In the meantime, rubbish bag rope spinning and effigy-making continues.

“Once they stop making billionaires, I can stop making effigies. I get billionaires are people too but I am looking at the big picture.”