I saw a huge, beautiful brick wall in a center of Adelaide. Part of this brick wall was painted yellow. And on yellow there were signs 'small car' and 'members only' painted in red.
I was intrigued. That gave me an idea of creating what is by now an ever-present symbol of life in the inner city of Adelaide; a large car park. There are approximately 41.000 parking places in the central business district of Adelaide. Of these, some 20.000 may be described as 'on street', of which 17.000 are subject to various zoning restrictions, such as 'no parking zones' (you can stop but not park there); 'no standing zones' (you cannot even stop); bus zones (you cannot stop unless you are a bus); 'loading zones' (for commercial vehicles only, usually trucks or vans; 'working zones'; 'taxi zones'; 'disabled permit zones'; 'visitor parking'; 'motor cycle zones'; 'time limit parking zones'
This project was to cover the entire brick wall adjacent to the Rosina Street car park with matchbox-sized cars. All 14910 matchbox size toy cars were donated by generous people of South Australia.
The project is not only a gentle but firm critique of the culture of the automobile, but also an eloquent statement about the perception of scale among children and adults. The child sees the world emblazoned with new colours, brimming with shapes that tower, rear or overshadow. Adults return to childhood places and think that these have in some strange way shrunk. Adults think they hold the world in keen focus; they feel they understand it They think that one of the gifts of adulthood is to enable them to grasp the materiality of the world. Here, however Matej takes a huge number of small objects, themselves a small versions of something enormous. Together they are then made a part of something vast, which is representation of that larger thing, the car park, of which there are so many in Adelaide. The objects themselves, the matchbox-sized cars, become specks, particles of nothing. Sliding up and down the conceptual frameworks of scale, Matej makes grown-ups see through the eyes of a child, and gives children a taste of the evident absurdity of adulthood.