Pyrite Radio, Rubicon ARI, 2015
A solo exhibition of oil paintings and interactive, functioning crystal set radios made out of junk.
May 20-June 6, 2015
Rubicon ARI
Level 1/309 Queensberry Street
North Melbourne VIC 3061
The exhibition explored the significance of crystal sets in Australian history.
It also continued my interest in the ways we communicate, through the strange ‘black magic’ feeling of using crystal sets.
Crystal set radios can receive signals and output (very quiet) audio without any electricity source, instead, they convert received radio waves into electricity,
They can be built with very basic materials, and have been very important in rural communications, as well as times of war and emergency. Australia has contributed some of the best crystal set designs, and learning about the design of the ‘Mystery Set’ got me obsessed!
AM broadcasts are set to be phased out in Australia, and a pay-per-megabyte model is now ever present for communication.
This project explored and celebrated the DIY radios of earlier days, reflecting on how we keep in touch.
About the exhibition
Hanging on the wall are scraps of dowel, lashed together into crosses, and strung with red wire like a spiders web. Below them, on a makeshift shelf, are strange contraptions made of scrap wood, cardboard tubes, tin foil, masking tape, gold enamelled wire wound around bottles, and some parts with labels that suggest you try turning them.
There are several devices of this kind. Some have antiquated headphones attached, or a tiny little earpiece seemingly made out of Bakelite, or an origami gramophone horn. There is no power plug, no battery connected, and yet, if you listen closely you can hear different radio broadcasts emanating from each makeshift device.
For this exhibition, Pyrite Radio, Simon O’Carrigan has built a selection of home-made ‘crystal set’ radios: an invention first considered at the turn of the century, and popularised through the 1930s and ‘40s. These radios used a crystal such as pyrite to convert radio waves into a very weak electronic pulse — just enough to make audible sound. They work only with analogue broadcasts, and then, only on the AM dial.
Alongside the makeshift radios are oil on linen renderings of archival photographs: just as eccentric as the tin foil and masking tape devices in the room. A woman in 19th century garb sits at a desk, her feet on jerry-rigged bicycle pedals, providing power to the radio she operates. A man sits for a portrait wearing a shoulder-mounted antenna connected to a crystal set conveniently mounted in a tobacco pipe, feeding sound into his headphones. “How do you tune it?” the article read. “I just turn my head” was his reply.
The works on show were made with no electronic knowledge or training, just a handful of research and a lot of late nights (reception is clearer at night, go figure). The result is an exhibition that looks like the apocalypse backup plan of a crazed survivalist, with a sprinkling of modern black magic woven in.
The audience were invited to tinker with the devices on show, and take home instructions to build their own.