I am ridiculously skint so selling small paper works and some old embroidery samples for 20 quid each. 20 quid you say? I know, I say. Affordable art from an artist person, oh buy something. Yeah. Do it.
The world can be a strange place filled with ominous cyclops clouds and sinister balloons. Try to find your light and surround yourself with good people, blankets and large slices of cake. Hibernate until spring. Drink gin. Cry. Stay beautiful.
Today I installed my work at The Crypt gallery, London, as part of the White Noise exhibition. I have contributed a soundscape on vinyl and a digital sound and video collage – both consisting of dreams I collected over the last 6 months. Both works explore the liminal space where the psychological white noise of daily life and the dream state meet.
11-16 October 2017
Open: Wednesday – Monday 12.00 -6.00pm
Wednesday 11 October 2017 6.00 -9.00 pm
Sunday 15 October 2.00-5.00 pm
In today’s world of high definition 3D imagery and a world bombarded with immediate and overloaded information, the term White Noise has developed not only from a definition of monotonous low level sounds that are continuously present, but also to signify a form of refuge- a sanctuary from the stresses of 21st Century ‘cyber-life’.
The Crypt’s unique atmosphere and spaces lend itself to the idea of ‘White Noise’. An ideal environment in which to present works that question/investigate a world that is filled with omnipresent background noise, explorations of notions such as ‘seeing the unseen’, ‘zones of indiscernability’ and the ‘indeterminate’, as well as ideas surrounding the freedom of the imagination to fill the void.
Sandra Beccarelli, Lizzie Brewer, Sarah E Choi, Andy D’Cruz, Annamarie Dzendrowskyj, Sarah Laura Hauenstein, Sam Hodge, Buffy Kimm, Jeong Min Moon, Emma Parker, Rachel Pearcey, Hanna ten Doornkaat, Marcia Teusink, Richard Tomlin
I recently purchased a Remo buffalo drum for shamanic journeying and healing work. I had a design that I had planned in my mind, but when I picked up the drum to do it this idea just didn’t feel right. Instead, the Tree Of Life appeared….
You find pieces of yourself.
You put them in a box.
You put the box under the bed.
You go to sleep and you dream of dead birds, and bones and old hag stones,
And the thousand ways you could come home to yourself,
If only you had the courage to walk off the edge of your fear.