20 March 2015

18 March 2015

Shedding Skin





“The skin biopsy was the first stage to creating the artwork. It was the moment when I thought OK this is real. It was a proper procedure. It wasn’t overly intrusive – it didn’t hurt or anything – it’s just a case of sterilising a part of my arm and cutting out a chunk of skin.

About two weeks later we converged at the Institute of Neurology to look at the stains and the actual skin that had been processed. They were stained in particular colours; a purple, minty green, blue and a pinky colour. They looked amazing – they just looked like paintings. I was really blown away by all the detail. What we created was me!”

-- Ghostpoet on the making of his latest album Shedding Skin.

Found via it's nice that. 

17 March 2015

Maryanne Casasanta





But what if the truth is neither in the represented nor in the representation? What if the truth is in its material configuration? To participate in an image rather than merely identify with it could perhaps abolish this relation. This would mean participating in the material of the image as well as in the desires and forces it accumulates. How about acknowledging that this image is not some ideological misconception, but a thing simultaneously couched in affect and availability, a fetish made of crystals and electricity, animated by our wishes and fears, a perfect embodiment of its own conditions of existence? It doesn’t represent reality. It is a fragment of the real world. It is a thing just like any other—a thing like you and me. 

--Hito Steyerl

Work by Maryanne Casasanta.

14 March 2015

Saturday Poem

Among the Rocks

Oh, good gigantic smile o’ the brown old earth,
      This autumn morning! How he sets his bones
To bask i’ the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet
For the ripple to run over in its mirth;
      Listening the while, where on the heap of stones
The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet.

That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true;
      Such is life’s trial, as old earth smiles and knows.
If you loved only what were worth your love,
Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you:
      Make the low nature better by your throes!
Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!
 
--  Robert Browning

11 March 2015

Katie Paterson



‘Fossil Necklace is a string of worlds, with each bead modestly representing a major event in the evolution of life through a vast expanse of geological time. From the mono-cellular origins of life on earth to the shifting of the continents, the extinction of the Cretaceous period triggered by a falling meteorite, to the first flowering of flowers, it charts the development of our species and affirms our intimate connection to the evolution of those alongside us. Each fossil has been individually selected from all corners of the globe, and then carved into spherical beads in a secondary process of excavation.’

Guy Haywood, Kettle’s Yard.
(See more of Katie's work here)

10 March 2015

a piece of quartz

My brother once showed me a piece of quartz that contained, he said, some trapped water older than all the seas in our world. He held it up to my ear. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘life and no escape.'
Anne Carson, Plainwater.

8 March 2015

7 March 2015

Saturday Poem

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size   
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,   
The stride of my step,   
The curl of my lips.   
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,   
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,   
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.   
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.   
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,   
And the flash of my teeth,   
The swing in my waist,   
And the joy in my feet.   
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered   
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,   
They say they still can’t see.   
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,   
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.   
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.   
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,   
The bend of my hair,   
the palm of my hand,   
The need for my care.   
’Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
 
-- Maya Angelou

4 March 2015

The House on Coco Road

For this years International Women's Day I am doing something each day this week to honor and recognise the women that help move humanity forward.

Today I backed 'The House on Coco Road' by Damani Baker through kickstarter. I am all for people telling their families female history!

2 March 2015

Claire Curneen





Works by Claire Curneen

I choose, just a crown

I’m ceded—I’ve stopped being Theirs—
The name They dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church
Is finished using, now,
And They can put it with my Dolls,
My childhood, and the string of spools,
I’ve finished threading—too—
Baptized, before, without the choice,
But this time, consciously, of Grace—
Unto supremest name—
Called to my Full—
The Crescent dropped—
 Existence’s whole Arc, filled up,
With one small Diadem.
My second Rank—
too small the first—
Crowned—Crowing—on my Father’s breast—
A half unconscious Queen—
But this time—
Adequate—
Erect, With Will to choose, or to reject,
And I choose, just a Crown

-- Emily Dickinson 

23 February 2015

New Websites!

Click HERE if you want to know all about happy movement shindigs...
Click HERE for if you would like to see my art offerings... 
Click HERE if you would like to take part in an epic movement survey. It is still in it's infancy, but with your help I think it could be something very special. Take a look around and watch this space for more information.   

Now, I was feeling very pleased with my website building self, until I read this: Web sites are obsolete. Hmmmm, so if you click through I guess your mere presence on may page will render you a technological dinosaur. It’s okay. I’m one, too. This man is not.

21 February 2015

Saturday Poem

Dream Dust

Gather out of star-dust
Earth-dust,
Cloud-dust,
Storm-dust,
And splinters of hail,
One handful of dream-dust
Not for sale.

--  Langston Hughes

18 February 2015

Art is, for me, the process of trying to wake up the soul. Because we live in an industrialized, fast-paced world that prefers that the soul remain asleep.

- Bill Viola

17 February 2015

Viviane Sassen













All works part of Pikin Slee by Viviane Sassen, currently on show at The ICA.