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Elena Gileva, Caroline Jane Harris, Anastasia Mina

20-23 June 2019

Pause. Take a deep breath.

Consider this as something you’ve never done before - you have just arrived from a distant planet. Look around, notice the light, the smell, the density of the space around you. You can start wandering, focusing your vision on each object, its texture.

If you could touch it, what would it feel like? Does it seem rough or smooth? Is it airy or heavy?Could it cut your flesh or feel like the softness of a loved one’s cheek? Can you see through it? Is there something in hiding? Is there something erased? Look very slowly, focus on seeing theobject. Scan it, every part of it, as if you’ve never seen such a thing before. Examine the highlights where the light shines, the darker hollows, the folds and ridges. Any asymmetries. Any unique features. Notice how your intentions change over time. Notice how you’ll wonder,automatically, “why am I doing this?”

There is something invisible at play here, that cannot be seen by a momentary gaze. There are erasure rules, applied relentlessly, consciously and sometimes unconsciously. You might even notice a creased tear the artist would have hoped would remain unseen. There are grooves and tones created by continuous movement. There are tiny traces of different histories and cultures. There is endless depth on traditionally flat surfaces. There is cutting that becomes systematically personal – one version into another. There are layers and layers of information -a piecemeal approach to what you can see.

Notice the incisions made by Caroline Jane Harris’ precise piercing. Focus on each slit of hermortician’s knife. Imagine the paper, overflowed with wax, small bits flicked, allowing light to flood into the space through Entredeux. Listen to the soft humming of the overhead projector, an increasingly obsolete technology, employed as a way of ejecting a bitmap’s shadow in A Fugitive Sky. Look, carefully - the etched copper of Hard Copy (Shroud) II slightly gleaming asthe acid’s reaction on the surface is revealed whilst A Blanket of Sky feels cloaked. What images remain unseen under the coating of Dark Light reflecting the stencilled floor?

Notice Anastasia Mina’s persistent markings on Pearl – her endless supply of graphite gradually depleting. Take a moment to ponder this deliberate erasure. Perhaps it is possible for you to unveil the image hiding. I’m still adjusting mum, much like most of us will be adjusting in time, installed as a long scroll, the pencil replaced by mouse clicks, with its folds spilling freely over the floor. Lean in low and close to Dancer, only then will you be able to feel its coarse grain.

Notice the palm of Elena Gileva’s hand forming curves like winding mountains – each dent, an alert attempt at creating form. Her clay caressed by her hands like a cat kneading your knee.Orthostat stands, as a relic, self-contained, classical, forming fragments of an anachronistic oasis. Can you sense part of its glaze smooth and cold to the touch? Let yourself be drawn to the symmetrical pattern of Portal - let it take you where it can, let your mind travel with it.

Take a deep breath. How did that feel for you?


Curated by Chloe Stavrou

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