At Artspace on 6 August, artist Toni Tait sat in an armchair and stared at a plywood wall for two hours, and invited the rest of us to join her. Wallmaxx with me, part of the 2026 Kudos Live: G R / N D showcase, turned a TikTok productivity hack into a collective, public and quietly self-conscious experiment in contemporary boredom — and, more interestingly, in watching others watch a wall.
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At Artspace on 6 August, artist Toni Tait sat in an armchair and stared at a plywood wall for two hours, and invited the rest of us to join her. Wallmaxx with me, part of the 2026 Kudos Live: G R / N D showcase, turned a TikTok productivity hack into a collective, public and quietly self-conscious experiment in contemporary boredom — and, more interestingly, in watching others watch a wall.
Have you ever stared at a wall for two hours? Boredom is usually the result of an inconvenience: a dead phone, forgotten earphones, staring at the dark ceiling unable to fall asleep. What happens when we decide to choose it over entertainment?
Wallmaxxing is a practice frequently documented on tiktok as a productivity hack. Wallmaxxing tiktoks are presented as short timelapses, making a slow, boring activity into a short, motion-filled clip that amplifies the wallmaxxers' small movements into a jittery frenzy to watch quickly. Even when wallmaxxing is done solo outside of a performance context, there is often a visibility and a spectacle to it.
At Artspace on the 6th of August, artist Toni Tait stared at a wall for two hours. She sat in front of the wall in a low-slung fabric armchair and looked straight ahead. Above her but out of view was a digital timer, and on each side of her were two more chairs, forming a line of five in front of a pale plywood wall.
Each chair had a piece of paper taped onto the seat with the instruction 'wallmaxx with me' and the suggestion to time how long you could do it for with a supplied stopwatch. From the beginning of the evening, the chairs were in high demand. People milled around them, positioning their conversations nearby so to quickly claim their position; from across the room, people took eager glances checking for an empty seat.
Wallmaxx with me was part of Kudos Live: G R / N D, a showcase of performance art organised by UNSW's ARC Creative in partnership with Performance Space. So while Tait and whoever decided to join her watched the wall, other performances took place in the room. While these occurred, the chairs for the most part remained full — the wallmaxxers had their backs turned, prioritising their boredom.
Sitting in a chair and staring at a wall is of course something that can be done by yourself outside of an artwork — the many wallmaxxing tiktoks prove this. Curious audience members could have gone home and wallmaxxed later that night rather than missing the other acts. But when presented as an alternative to the more kinetic and loud occurrences in the room (not only the performances but also the chance to have a chat or a free drink), Tait's performance seemed to offer something different and appealing.
The artistic context of the performance encouraged the once-common experience of boredom to be contemplated, even for those who did not participate. Seeing Tait occasionally stretch or yawn and slouch lower in her chair, someone might wonder how she might feel and what it would be like afterwards. Would she go straight on her phone? What was she thinking about (if anything)? Was it difficult or peaceful? Was her chair comfortable? Did time move fast or slowly?
If these questions were intriguing enough, maybe this viewer would wallmaxx too, and many did.
Tait's performance didn't hide its potential to make you bored, but it also didn't guarantee it. Talking to Liam, a friend and fellow wallmaxxer at the end of the event, we spoke more about the minute details of our experience wallmaxxing than any of the other performances. Did we choose to notice life-like shapes on the plywood (I saw a baby's side-profile and half an avocado, he saw a stomach)?
Did these images say something about us? Or did we instead blur our vision? Were we listening to our surroundings and imagining the performance we sat through from sound only?
Both of us had felt self-conscious in the beginning that we were fidgeting too much — I'd seen him adjust his legs in my peripheral vision and it made me feel better about my own movements. My back settled into the chair in a way it hadn't at the start; my ankles crossed, uncrossed, crossed the other way. Being sat at the edge of the wall, for a split-second I had accidentally met the gaze of someone standing against it. Being bored wasn't so boring.
While I wallmaxxed, some kind of performance involving a theremin happened behind me. As I stared at the baby and avocado on the wall, I thought about whether to turn around and watch; I decided not to and sat through the curiosity and discomfort of not knowing. But I kept thinking 'maybe I'll try to turn around shortly before it ends, just so I see a little bit'.
Before I knew it, the music stopped and in my peripheral vision, I saw the performer walk to an exit. Afterwards, I asked some friends what happened and one of them jokingly told me I'd never know, and I still don't really.
Choosing to 'wallmaxx with me' might earn the participant the honourable, monk-like status of a peaceful person who can sit with nothing, but I think the interest came from the genuine novelty of contemporary boredom. Wallmaxx with me's transformation of a seemingly boring activity into a collective, public and artistic experience made us pay attention to a feeling we unthinkingly avoid, instead watching reels on the train or listening to a podcast while we clean the bathroom.
Being bored became something to watch, discuss and do together. Tait mentioned afterwards that the 2 hours of wallmaxxing at Artspace went much quicker than her one-hour solo training sessions she did in the lead up (which she documented in timelapses on tiktok).
Jonas Mekas recounted an audience member at the 1964 premiere of Andy Warhol's film Sleep run up to the silver screen and shout 'WAKE UP' into the sleeper's projected ear within the first hour of the film. Other people left and demanded refunds in the lobby. Rioting was threatened.
Fifty people out of the initial 500 stayed until the end. Mike Getz, the cinema manager, apparently told them, 'Ladies and gentlemen. I believe that Sleep was properly advertised. I said in my ads that it was an unusual six-hour movie. You came here knowing that you were going to see something unusual about Sleep and I think you are' — but the audience felt fooled when their curiosity was met with such mundanity. As far as I noticed, none of this frustration was directed at Tait's performance.
It is important to note that most people's — except Toni's — stints of wallmaxxing lasted no longer than about 20 minutes. But given the audience's interest despite the performances, conversations, and drinks in the room, but also the phones, laptops, podcasts (and all three at the same time) of modern life, it raises the question if doing or seeing something boring has become interesting.
As movies grow longer and more action packed, is Warhol's Sleep what we are really wanting? Maybe instead we should turn to face the wall.
Artist: Toni Tait
Presented by: Arc Creative in partnership with Performance Space
Part of: 2026 Kudos Live: G R / N D
Mentorship: Kate Britton and Hana Truban
Photography: Zac Tomaszewski
Content warnings: loud noises, simulated masturbation
Reviewed by Angelique Ford.
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