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JOURNAL ISSUE THREE 2016


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SUSAK EXPO 13TH - 22ND MAY 2016

PLANT MY BASIL EAT MY PESTO EMILIA MARYNIAK

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SUSAK EXPO VIA CHELSEA SALON CHEL LOGAN

SELF/CONTROL CO-THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE

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FAILURE FLAG SALLY GORDON

MA DEGREE SHOW 2016 ALESSANDRA SORMANI

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SUSAK MESSENGER CHEL & NESS LOGAN

PICASSO PLAY! ELDI DUNDEE

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BOARDER CONTROL NATALIE ANASTASIOU & CHEL LOGAN

SYNTHETIC SPIRITUALITY & WOODLAND FAIRY RHIANNON REBECCA SALISBURY

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SOLO SHOWS LIBERTY ANTONIA SADLER

16 BLOC-REPAIR-KIT CAROLINE STRECK

17 VISCERAL DREAMS RHIANNON REBECCA SALISBURY & KAMILIA ANNA HARCHI

18 UNNAMED GROUP SHOW JENNIFER ROBERTS, EL JORDON & JENNY QUAYLE

19 UNCONVENTIONAL SUBCONSCIOUS KOFO WILLIAMS

20 CLAIMING SPACE LIBERTY ANTONIA SADLER

21 WAXECTOMY KAMILIA ANNA HARCHI

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THE AFTERMATH ZOE DICKEY

35 UBUNTU MARIE AIMEE

41 THE STUDIO NATALIE ANASTASIOU

41 CHELSEA CHARACTERS CANDICE YAP PRETTY PRIVILEGE LIBERTY ANTONIA SADLER

43 PERRY CHRISTMAS LENA TATIANIA SOUSA

44 I JUST NEED TO CHARGE MY PHONE PETER EVANS

46 SOCIAL BREAKDOWN SARAH HILL

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PROOFS GIULIA SHAH

POETRY CHEL LOGAN & LIBERTY ANTONIA SADLER

CONTENTCONTENT CONTENT CONTENTCONTENT CONTENT

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WELCOME TO THE PUNCTUM JOURNAL Editor’s Letter Since the publishing of Issue Two, Chelsea’s MA Fine Art achieved and experienced many thought-provoking events on their journey towards the final show. The solo shows, one again, provided both useful critical feedback for works-in-progress, and explosive fully formed creations. Ranging from interactive video works, intimate personal stories and group show extravaganzas; these exhibitions showcased a peer group overflowing with vivacity. In May, a team of MA students visited the Isle of ‘Art & Trouble’: Susak, Croatia, for the Susak Expo (an initiative devised by Chelsea Alumnus Daniel Devlin). This issue opens with a collection of fragments from the event, aiming capture a snippet of the impish energy, isolated setting & collaborative spirit during 2016’s expo. A hearty congratulations to Natalie Anastasiou & Chel Logan for their curation of the wild week.

to share their research & practices, their determination to create projects such as their own gallery, and for a diverse and inspiring Degree Show. So what is next for Punctum Journal? Teaming up with Joshua Y’Barbo and Laura Carew, the journal is joining a new in-development publishing house, and expanding its research reach to a wider network created from the nucleus of the MA class. I, once again, close my editor’s letter with the intentions that have continued since day one:

TAKE IT OUT OF YOUR HEAD AND ONTO THE PAGE,

This issue also chronicles the Degree Show, which proved to be a most innovative climax to an already jam-packed year. Taking over the Chelsea campus, art screamed out from every floor, and showcased just how multifaceted the term ‘Fine Art’ is. Architectural, personal-political, satirical, multidisciplinary, performative, painting, ceramics, textiles...a show beyond rules, yet somehow, flowing together in a chorus of creative voices.

and I look forward to bright & vivacious futures of both my MA peer group and the Punctum Journal.

I would like to take a moment to thank the peer group of MA Fine Art, Chelsea 2015-2016 for their openness

Liberty Antonia Sadler December 2016

TAKE IT OUT OF YOUR STUDIO AND INTO THE SPACE,

PUNCTUM JOURNAL TEAM

CONTACT/INFOMATION

EDITOR & DESIGNER Liberty Antonia Sadler

EMAIL punctumjournal@gmail.com

PUNCTUM GALLERY Ed Eustace Natalie Anastasiou

INSTAGRAM the_punctum

THANKS Brian Dawn Chalkley Dr. Stephen Wilson Babak Ghazi

Martin Newth Joshua Y’Barbo George Blacklock

Image Above: MA Fine Art group photograph by Ana Pastor, August 2016.

TWITTER @punctum_space FACEBOOK www.facebook.com/punctum.events Cover Images: (front) Photograph from ‘Boarder Patrol’ performance, Susak, Croatia, May 2016 (back) close up of sculptural painting by Rhiannon Rebecca Salisbury.

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SUSAK


SUSAK EXPO 13TH - 22ND MAY 2016

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SUSAK EXPO VIA CHELSEA SALON, BY CHEL LOGAN Given the opportunity to curate, document and exhibit in an Arts Expo on island where the only people that would attend would be the artists and a peppercorn (130 approx.) population. This is the brainchild of one Daniel Devlin, a self-confessed anti-artist and confidence trickster. The Premise of the conquest was get three creatives from the Post-graduate community of UAL and through Chelsea Salon and undertake curating a show and documenting it. The only slight catch in the plan was it undercurrent, the whole she-bang was based upon “Failure”. What could possibly go wrong? To start with the organising as Curators had its mishaps emailing people the wrong people the right information (or vice versa). Getting the work and Sluice magazines (the official catalogue of the Expo) to an island that requires a train, a plane, a bus, a taxi, a catamaran and a tractor (driven by a man called ‘Captain Salty’) to get there. We selected artists from the Post Graduate community under the premise that the work had to be certain dimensions for transport and of an ephemeral nature. We were approaching a situation that we have no idea of the gallery space, how long we had to show the work and how we could make each piece count. Thinking on our feet and by the seat of our pants was essential and responding appropriately, it really pushed the idea of the contemporary art and the way that art can be not only displayed but connected to its environment. We staged some of the work around the island, some in the gallery, some of it was interactive and became a part of Susak folk lore. Video work was shown at various intervals during the week (7-16th of May). We were also visited mid-week by members of Chelsea MA fine art, who collaborated us with and made work whilst here.

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The sense of freedom for an artist on an island with no agenda or evident rules was a very Zen experience where creativity flourished untethered and unhindered. Connections were made with Artists from across the world (Italy, Bosnia, Germany, Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, U.S.A., Mexico U.K. and Argentina) and collaboration was high. On the Thursday evening, Natalie, Kagweni and myself helped curate and present other artists as part of an Arts Trail which began in the harbour, stopping at intervals to engage with various artist’s site specific work. This all cumulated in an exhibition in The Gallerie 531, where video work, sculpture, two dimensional work and performance was shown by UAL students. This evening involved all the artists on the island as well as some of the locals, it was procession of creativity and live music. There was a sense of community on the island that could not be ignored, everybody ate communally and conversed critically on ideas over meals or drinks. No element was left untouched by a keen eye for detail or presentation. The art world, personal practice, funding, industry frameworks and joy of making. There was no hierarchy within the daily structure and involvement within projects was very free. Finding Daniel’s Office in the middle of a field near of the edge of a cliff took several failed attempts but these journeys brought stories which were just as, if not more valuable than the actual work itself. It posed a question, to which area of your practice do you focus upon, Process or Product. Rancieré would approve. Natalie Anastasiou - Chelsea MA Fine art Kagweni Micheni – LCC Documenting Chel Logan – Chelsea MA Fine Art Joshua Y’Bardo – Chelsea Salon


FAILURE FLAG,

MOVING SCULPTURE, BY SALLY GORDON

“To be an artist is to fail, as no other dare fail... failure is his world and to shrink from it desertion, art and craft, good housekeeping, living...”, Samuel Beckett This promenade performative sculpture was created especially for the Susak Expo 2016 with its theme of ‘Failure’; created from collection of “failed” artworks by Sally Gordon, the flag flew freely and loudly, bringing attention to previously hidden and discarded artworks by their creator.

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SUSAK MESSENGER,

EXTRACTS FROM TEXT WORK 2016, BY CHEL & NESS LOGAN

Hey beautiful .xxxx In the Botel ...it is amazing ! Did you get back ok? Love you .xxx had a problem with the bus transfer , was too late to get the transfer bus to Rijeka , so we had to get a taxi from the husband of the woman on the bureau de change . Got to Botel ok. the place is amazing ! Like being on the titanic without the sinkage ! XXXX

8 MAY 07:17

Ness

Glad you got their safe! The same thing happened to me in Florida we had to get a lift to hotel from a reps sister as the coach left without us! Glad the botel is nice xxxx I got back fine. Boys slept most of the way. It was boiling hot though and half the snacks melted even though windows were down 8 MAY 08:19 Chel

Chel

We have no food in this house and everything cases on a Sunday so it looks like I will have to go find the bakery , we got invited to a party last night where all the artists were and there was a band which you could join, I played bass for a bit jazz style sty They had this weird chicken stew which I had about three bowls of...I was starving there was no food on the boat , but the trip down here only lasted three hours ...I swear the driver was a boy racer.! Chel

Hope you are ok and the boys are fine ..I miss you all. Hope yazmin has great time in Warwick doing the acting thing...I love the fact she is shaving her hair for charity too awesome ...lots of people form uni are interested I shared it on the uni page .

Morning beautiful .xxxxx Just about to go for breakfast .xxxx Love you my sweet ..miss you tonnes .xxx

8 MAY 09:24

Love .xxxxx Right off to brush my teeth and find a bakery

.xxxx have a great day

Chel

Ness

Looks nice and cosy, yaz has set off, viggo in school, shopping done and washer on just got to sort dishwasher and keep it all going with washing clothes and tidying I'm feeling very tired today. Jai has a cold so im blowing his nose every 5 mins but he's ok. I made roast dinner for boys last night and steak for me. I'm that lost without you that I had the telly on and it went on to a programme about obsessive compulsive cleaners.....and i watched it!! Sad eh! I realised life had taken a turn for the worse and went to bed instead of watching another episode. ... I've got work today too so it's all go here xxxxx Chel

Oh dear...missing you too love.xx you busy bee!! Poor Jai roast dinner sounds amazing! I had pasta last night with..wait for it ..Winkles!! Susak cuisine huh! Just back from the bakery we are going on the beach to do work , we have a meeting in a field at four pm , it is so surreal ! Chel

XXXX

Fish under the hotel!!xxxx

Ness

Ness

Looks amazing!!! (Not jealous...nope.....not one bit) I'm about to go food shopping. Stupid boss has rotad me in next Sunday! ! After saying I had it off. So I've asked what's going on with the rota. He hasn't replied yet..... im sooooooo tired xxxxx

Chel

Awww baby ..your silly boss!! Miss you . I wish you were here with me . Xxxxxi put up a picture for you on Facebook.xxxxx About to check out ....xxxx

Ness

Looks lovely, so how much does breakfast cost then? Winkles and all

.... at least you're having fun xxxx

Chel

The pastries are about 95 kune each. They were fresh out of the oven , the timer went off when I was in the bakery ...The winkles were free someone cooked us a meal ! Xxxxx

Ness

95 each!!!!!!! My god!!!! Chel

9.5 not 95 Haha Missed the point out !

Yes I commented Ness

Xxxxx Miss you too.... only been 1 day xxxx

Thank goodness!!!!!!

Chel

You are always with me .xxxx Xxxxx 9 MAY 01:45 Chel

Just found the wifi password .xxxx yay ..I can contact you whilst on Susak .xxxx night knight my love .xxxx 9 MAY 09:18 Chel

Morning beautiful !!.xxxx

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Our place !..xxxx

Bubble guppies and golden juice currently Chel

Awww.bless him.xxx


Awwwwe Chel

Well both of us for hair then

Ness

9 MAY 11:37

Ness

I'm making a bacon butty xxx What time is it there xx

Chel

I have a chocolate croissant and Burek. ..it is 10:48... And it is pissing it down! XXXX

Just to let you know your grandma's in hospital. she pulled her shoulder closing the curtains but then started being sick too so they are monitoring her. She went in Thursday afternoon but if it was really serious they would gave test results by now but we are waiting on them still at mo. Will let you know anything, don't know when she's coming out yet xxxx

Ness

9 MAY 16:23

Ness

It's sunny here but not as warm as last few days which were 28°C xxx *not

Chel

29°C here today!! No breeze either. Absolutely half baked!!..... just can't cool down

xxxx

9 MAY 20:31

Ness

Boys are being really difficult tonight. I'm so very tired. I'm gonna need a weekend away with Yaz to recooperate!.... on the plus side were are still alive and fed and watered.... can't go fairer than that today xxxx

Ness

Ah right... mum and dad are having Jai from 10.45 so I can go to the school. Then i go to work then j get the boys and do tea immediately they get in coz they are always 'starving' xxxxx *I go

9 MAY 22:53

Ness

Chel

Hungry men! Don't school feed them?xxx

Really wish I had the ability to stay awake.... I fell asleep with the boys and just got back up. Xxxx 10 MAY 08:44

Ness

Jai no viggo yes but he eats like a viking.... xx

Chel

Morning beautiful ..that is terrible news about my grandma .. I hope she pulls through ..I know she is a fighter ! You are so amazing , and busy ..and you say I have lots of energy ..maybe try a Berocca ..they taste vile but they are an energy boost. That dishwasher , I find it is the square bowls on the bottom layer , if they are placed in diagonally then it stops the blade from spinning. ..maybe! Love you loads baby ...Jai is so naughty of late I think he is copying Viggo but in a worse and more theatrical way. Things are good here , we got to know a lot of the artists yesterday , Austrian and Croatian ...i cooked for them last night ...about 15 people , it was easy ..just pasta and Peppers and Parmesan . As well as oven baked courgettes , an aubergine pate ( I burnt them in the oven...so I made the pâté out of them ...lots of olive oil and garlic !) they loved it ...so they are retiring the favour tonight and we as a group are being treated to a Croatian meal...no idea what that is ! They have these things here called Burek which is a puff pasty stuffed with a cheese like feta , they are amazing!! Setting up the gallery in the house today and working on some projects , I think the best thing that will come out of this is the ability to know and work with artists across Europe in the future . We have yet to find the office of Daniel Devlin..it is in a field ..a white a table and it is only open from the hours 16:00-17:00... How odd is that !

Chel

Good man!! Good strong male energy!

Ness

They have both been finishing their breakfasts all week too xxxx Chel

That's my boys !.xxx Chel

I think I need a new coffee ...still the only one up Xxx.

Ness

I'm having one in a min xxxxx lazy student Xxxxx Chel

Hahaha.xxxx...might go take some photos of the island in the rain .xxxx love you .xxxx can't stay in. Feel restless . Massive hugs to you my beautiful ..,been awesome talking to you this morning:)xxxxxxxxx

Chel

I miss you gorgeous lady.xxxx you are strong and awesome! Wish you were here ..your hubby .xxxx

13 MAY 12:19 Chel

Ness

Getting the 2:30 ferry ..went into the church near the square to light a candle for my gran ..but I could not rest so I sat here and watched the sea...it seemed more appropriate .xxxxx

Missing you too... I bloody well wish I was there too maybe not for the seafood though.... glad you are having a great time. You've only 1.5 × 1 mile to search to find it xxx Chel

Ness

I know ..silly huh!

Ness

No way sod that. It's a tenner for hour and half over here! 30 euros is more like 22 quid!! The boys have been fed now and are watching TV and playing with lego xxx

Chel

Awww bless ...I can not wait to see you all tomorrow ..it has been too long without you guys .xxxx

Looks like we are probably staying awake all night because we have a six o clock ferry .xxxxxx

Chel

Coffee time .xxxxx Ness

16 MAY 10:33

Chel

I am on the bus now from Rijeka to Trieste ....the driver was an arsenal we had to pay for luggage in the hold! Like hand luggage ...not long now baby .xxxxx Ferry crossing was smooth, slept a bit ...gonna give you a massive sludge when I see you !!.xxxx Squidge! Xxxxxxx

16 MAY 11:41

Ness

Be gentle I've done my neck in in the night. Had to buy painkillers and ibuprofen xxxx 16 MAY 14:19

Ness

I'm about to have a coffee too!

Chel

On the bus to Trieste ...in Slovenia now ..just gone through passport control on the borers , the wifi is floating in and out , so you might get this . I smell like a wood fire as we had a farewell fire on the beach . One of the Austrian fellows gave me a signed print of his work . Such a nice chap. ..and bonkers ! Miss you baby .xxxx Chel

Not long now ..xxx I think Jai wants something..... I haven't eaten yet. .. im getting to that at some poing Chel

Milk...maybe?

Ness

Chel

In the airport departure lounge at Trieste ...it is basically a Starbucks with cheaper food..this airport is so small! We opted for three bags of crisps . One of which is orange and mustard flavour which is awesome! Hope your journey to Stansted is going well. Can't wait to see you..really fancy a KFC ! Chel

Xxxxxxx

Bang on... Chel

He looks just like me !

Ness

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BOARDER CONTROL, SUSAK HARBOUR, 11TH MAY 2016 BY NATALIE ANASTASIOU & CHEL LOGAN Participants: Natalie Anastasiou – Instigator/Director/Curator Chel Logan – Instigator/Director/Curator Kagweni Micheni– Editor/Documentary maker. Igor Petrovic – Guard and Photographer Martin Weise - Desk Sergeant Peter Seawasser – Chief Inspector Sombre – Stall attendant/Camera man Tito – Drugs Dog Captain Salty – Tractor driver Yussef Al Zarouk – Austrian Accomplice Ferdinand Foregger – Austrian Accomplice Unknowing participants: Camille Bonanza Caro Streck Olivia Strange Liberty Antonia Sadler Alessandra Somani Sally Gordon Harry Pounds Andrew Mole

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Items Inventory: Rope Barricade, courtesy of local restaurant. White Table, with rusted legs, courtesy of local establishment. White Plastic Chairs x 2 GoPro Hero3 -(Natalie) Canon 350D - (Natalie)

Canon 70D – (Kagweni) Canon 70D - (Igor) Telescopic tripod. Olympus Digital Voice recorder DM 670 Zoom H4n Audio recorder A5 hardback Sketchbook Condoms x 6 (out of date) Snazzeroo Body Paints, various colours Empty wine bottles (1Ltr) x 5 Cardboard box, (front removed) Boning knife with black plastic handle Rosewood handled knife with beige leather sheath and leatherthong. A4 paper with essay The ‘Right to be lazy’ by Paul Faraque on the reverse. Krauthaker Cardboard wine box Pizza box containing two circular 12”Burek (One Cheese/OneMeat) Small wooden stool (slightly weather worn) Blu Tac Red printing ink Paisley Rubber Stamp Navy Baseball Cap with New York Motif Blue Bic ballpoint disposable pen Austrian Snuff Rakia Liqueur (1ltr) Goran Petrovic, ‘Die Ville am Rande Die Zeit’. Tractor (Captain Salty) Yellow Disposable Bic Razors Broken tile with Yellow Flower Dried herbs – 250g polythene packet. Fine liner pen – Blue Fine liner pen – Black Masking tape Sandstone rocks, various


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MA Art and Science

Central Saint Martins

MARTA WLUSEK

MA Photography

London College of Communication

PETER EVANS

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

ALEXANDROS SIMOPOULOS

MA Visual Arts/Illustration

Camberwell College of Art

SARAH HILL

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

DAVID ZAMORANO

MA Animation

London College of Communication

ADAM J B WALKER

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

DENISE ACKERL

PhD

Chelsea College of Art

SAMANTHA HARVEY

MA Photography

Central Saint Martins

YU WEN HUNG (GALE)

MA Culture, Criticism and Curation

Central Saint Martins

ISIDORA AMÉZAGA CRORKAN

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

JOHN FLINDT

BA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

REBECCA RHIANNON SALISBURY

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

LIBERTY ANTONIA SADLER

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

KAREN PIDDINGTON

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

EMMELY ELGERSMA

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

OLIVIA STRANGE

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

DEMETER DYKES

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

KOFO WILLIAMS

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

SYMEON BANOS

MA Narrative Environments

Central Saint Martins

SALLY GORDON

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

CARO STRECK

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

CANDICE YAP

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

ANA PASTOR

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

NAMRATA BHATTER

MA Communication Design

Central Saint Martins

NAZANIN MO

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

NATALIE ANASTASIOU

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

KAGWENI MICHENI

MA Documentary and Film

London College of Communication

CHEL LOGAN

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

ALESSANDRO SOMANI

MA Fine Art

Chelsea College of Art

ARTISTS

NEUS TORRES TAMARIT

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BLOC-REPAIR-KIT, CHELSEA CAFÉ PROJECT, DISPLAY #22, BY CAROLINE STRECK The Bloc-Repair-Kit is a participatory project that was invented for the Susak Expo 2016. The “Kit”, created by Caroline Streck, contained different sized wooden blocks that are stretched with fabric. The blocks were distributed among the participants of the Expo and the inhabitants of Susak with the instructions to use them in a situation of “emergency” and to send a photo of the situation to the artist. What “emergency” could actually mean was left up to participants interpretation. The blocs were developed as geometric shapes that related back to Streck’s paintings, where they were transformed into a singular physical form. Within the Expo the forms function as a tool to be used in an open and experimental context. The Susak Expo is a bi-annual art event that has taken place on the remote Croatian island of Susak since 2006, initiated by artist Daniel Devlin. This year the exhibition runs from May to September. Caroline Streck has been working predominantly as a painter during the course of undertaking an MA at Chelsea College of Arts. Her current work observes movement and behaviour in urban environments, looking at how the shapes produced by architecture direct or influence the form and flow of human movement. Working from these points, she utilises geometrical abstractions produced from these environments, to explore the potential alienating effect that the forms may have during the painting process. These effects are then set in relation to the use of colour which the artist uses as an intuitive, fluid and playful part of the compositional process. The Chelsea Cafe Project is a series of displays of work by students and staff from Chelsea College of Arts. These changing displays are a chance to see some of the talent here at Chelsea from across a diverse range of disciplines. The series is curated in collaboration with CHELSEA space (opposite) as part of the Public Programme.

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VISCERAL DREAMS,

A COLLABORATIVE SHOW, 19TH - 20TH APRIL 2016

BY RHIANNON REBECCA SALISBURY & KAMILIA ANNA HARCHI

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UNNAMED GROUP SHOW,

13TH– 14TH APRIL 2016, BY JENNIFER ROBERTS, EL JORDAN AND JENNY QUAYLE

The group exhibition was initially a reaction to a Fabio Mauri exhibition that we had visited together as part of our research group studies. We had each found the exhibition interesting for different reasons, and so had individual responses, leading to the deliberate decision not to name a common theme, or title our exhibition. We all found that this freedom helped us to gain focus and clarity on what we were already exploring in our work. The Punctum Gallery was a fabulous opportunity as a space to try out new ideas in our work, helping us to make new departures in our practice.

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UNCONVENTIONAL SUBCONSCIOUS, SOLO SHOW, BY KOFO WILLIAMS Family. Art. God. I believe there is a mandate. I was born for such a time as this. We think about the ways we think about thinking about artworks. Our emotions are twitter-patient. The true test would be to believe in the contradictory consciousness of the tension between my faith, sexuality and identity.

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CLAIMING SPACE, INTERACTIVE SOLO EXHIBITION, 16-18TH MAY 2016 BY LIBERTY ANTONIA SADLER This exhibition was created in conjunction with the Claiming Space essay as an opportunity to test the ideas explored within the text. The exhibition featured body drawing series ‘Intimate’ (2016), a reading area with books & zines by the artist, and an interactive red recording space. The audience was invited to become part of a video work ‘proCLAIMations’, featuring the opening statements from the essay, to make their own proclamations of body & gender positivity. The personal claims made by the audience were incredibly diverse, even though the majority were taken from the opening statements, for example cis male participants claiming “vulnerability” and “emotions”, to high femme women claiming their “fetishes” and “goddess”, to young persons claiming their “innocence”. The purpose of the exhibition was to highlight the importance of the individual through the act of speaking into the recorded space: to title yourself by your own decision-making and identification.

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Menstrual puddle Black, white, red The pearl dipped in rich blood I made myself Show me where it comes from Your strength Look at my face and tell me my story You can’t? Look at my stomach then She reads loud I know she is never silent The body out of social corsetry Anarchy Dichotomy Me


WAXECTOMY, COOKHOUSE GALLERY, CHELSEA, 28-29TH APRIL 2016 BY KAMILIA ANNA HARCHI

‘Waxectomy’ is a performative triptych of sculptures which emerged as a personal response to themes that have been surrounding my practice and fascinating me as a woman, a human and as an artist. Consisting of three wax female busts mounted upon a wall, the flesh coloured breasts featured wicks embedded within the nipple which upon lighting would gradually melt spreading an aroma around the exhibition space. Imploring the viewer to question the condition of the female body and the sexualisation of the gender. The holes that become embossed within the wax, statically remind us that the female body is not a product but an objectified reality. Suffering silently as the wax slowly melts and the holes deepen, until nothing remains but an empty shell. Moulded in Gelfex rubber and casted with Microcrystalline and Paraffin wax, with thin layers of pigmented wax layered on top of each other to produce the flesh-like texture and bloody effect. By adding an aroma to the piece, which spread throughout the room when audience meant my work was not only preforming to and audience but also interacting with it’s surroundings. The performative nature of the sculpture pays homage to cults and the theatricality of religious celebrations hence the three replicate busts, which symbolise the holy trinity.

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PROOFS, SOLO SHOW (PLASTER, CLAY, C-TYPE PRINTS, PHOTOCOPIES) BY GIULIA SHAH Proofs was a 2 day try out exhibition exploring the relationship between image and object, sculpture and photography and material decay in an ever growing digital world. Our relationship to objects is one of an existential nature. Objects mark, trace and give meaning to our human presence. We create, propagate, preserve and consume all to prove our existence. In a day and age where the physical has been usurped by the digital, the desire for the tangible is ever growing. I produce works in a variety of media that investigate the status of ‘things’ in an ever dematerialised world through the concept of (re)production, mark making and traces. The process of making is a key aspect of my practice. During the process of making and the recording of this production questions concerning the blurred border between image and object, high and low culture and conservation and neglect arise. The image is a reoccurring element in my work. I layer and repurpose images as part of the process of making objects. Buried images, scratches, imprints and preciously framed photographs all become subtle elements of installation works concerning mortality, value and the status of our physical relationship to objects in the age of ‘thinking’ things.

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PLANT MY BASIL EAT MY PESTO, VIDEO & INSTALLATION BY EMILIA MARYNIAK Installation of 3:38 min video performance with sound, basil plants and black-box geometrical construction. This work contains reections about the mystery of a physical body – its senses, sensations and its inner existence, which often seems to be alien. It brings the impression of knowing, when in the same time it is impossible to recognize it. It introduce ambiguities over body through which we understand it is us, but we cannot identify us even more. It also carries a suggestion that the surface of the body can be as much extraordinary,unfamiliar, strange, and fragmented as the inside processes of a biological organism.

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MUSTAFA BOGA LAZEEZ RAIMI

SELF/CONTROL,

GROUP SHOW JUNE 28TH – JULY 2ND 2016, BY CO-THINKING ABOUT FUTURE

SELF/CONTROL is a collaborative exhibition that explores how technologies have affected the construction of the self, control over information and collective and individual memory making. It is a conversation between the immediate present, the long forgotten past and the impending future. Collectively, we ask you the question: Are you in control? The exhibition originated from Co-Thinking About Future, a project where four curators from different University of the Arts London courses met their peers from MA Fine Art, MA Photography, MA Sound Art and MA Animation to exchange ideas about the future of New Media in varying art practices. A special thanks goes to the UAL Postgraduate Community who have made this exhibition possible by supporting the project. Exhibiting artists were Natalie Anastasiou, Mustafa Boga, Irini Folerou, Maria Luigia Gioffrè, Nicola Lorini, Lazeez Raimi, Juan Covelli Reyes, Ilia Rogatchvski, Lorraine Williams, Neale Willis.Curated by the Co-Thinking About Future curatorial team of Alexandra Chernaya, Alessandra Di Lorenzo, Azzurra Pitruzzella and Benedetta Turlon.

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Follow Co-Thinking About Future’s progress at: http://blogcothinkingaboutfuture.tumblr.com/ & @cothinkingfuture on Instagram

NEALE WILLIS


MARIA LUIGIA GIOFFRE

IRINI FOLEROU

ROOM THREE GALLERY ONE Technological progress creates tension between virtual and physical realms. The lines between virtual and physical confines are blurred, split into pieces and become interchangeable. The artists’ works reflect on the possibilities of this new and constantly changing relationship, highlighting its conflicts, ambiguities and limitations. Here are the traces we leave behind — the ritual carvings in stone, the digital debris, and the self-portrait; human processes of identification and interaction. GALLERY TWO

NATALIE ANASTATIOU

The rhythm of information circulation in the digital realm means the self is tirelessly exposed and undergoes a constant shaping and re-shaping. Anatomy and the mind turn into multifaceted, fictitious and shareable fragments. Private and public narratives are interwoven into collective memory. The representation of the self online is controlled, collected and authored through algorithms, data, and social media websites, making the way we read identities constraining and limited. GALLERY THREE Technologies and mass media collapse the lines between individual memory and collective memory, between the personal and the political, and between controlled information and free information. Here, time is disrupted. Information is revealed and concealed. The viewer becomes a witness to power structures and guarded information and artefacts. The rules are untangled, displayed and new narratives come to light.

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MA FINE ART DEGREE SHOW

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PHOTOGRAPHY BY ALESSANDRA SORMANI


PARIS ACKRILL SARAH ADAMS (WHITE) MARIE AIMEE DALIA ANIME NATALIE ANASTASIOU LALITHA BANDARU GONÇALO BIRRA QIANWEN CAI BRONWYN CARR TIBOR CERVENAK BAN-YUAN CHANG SIXUE CHEN WEN CUN CHEN PATRICK CONLON MATTEO CORDERO ZOE DICKEY PUYU DONG SUE DOUGLASS ELDI DUNDEE EDWARD EUSTACE PETER EVANS YIZHU FENG STEFANIE FERRAZ DOMINIK GERMANEK SEAMUS GOUGH WASMA HAMIDADDIN KAMILIA ANNA HARCHI

SARAH HILL STUART HOWITT CUISHAN HUANG PETER JORDAN BORAM KIM JOON HEE KIM CHEN KONG MIN KYUNG LEE HUITING LIU LIHONG LIU YAN YAN LIU QIAOCHU MA EMILIA MARYNIAK ELLEN MCGIVERN NAZANIN MORADI RYAN MOSES DANKA NISEVIC JIA NIU EUN JEONG OH SUNYOUNG OH FRANCISCO OSORIO TERESA PAIVA ANA PASTOR ELENA PERUGI EMILY PICKTHALL LAZEEZ RAIMI KAIXI RAO

ROSE ROBSON LIBERTY ANTONIA SADLER RHIANNON REBECCA SALISBURY JUNG MIN SOHN GIULIA SHAH ALESSANDRA SORMANI CHRISSIE STEWART OLIVIA STRANGE CAROLINE STRECK DANIELA TAMMAN VICTOR TEROL GONZALEZ WATARU TOMINAGA DAVID ALEXANDER VINALL ADAM J B WALKER MINGDI WANG WEI WANG KOFO WILLIAMS NAIFEI WU SONIA WYNN MAN YI YAP SAEIDEH YAZEA HUA YEH SOO JIN YOO YOUNGHO YOON YUFEI ZHANG

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PICASSO PLAY! INSTALLATION & PERFORMANCE, BY ELDI DUNDEE The installation consisted of 5 chairs, 5 Televisions which displayed looped videos of rehearsals for ‘Desire Caught By the Tail’ by Picasso, with props from the recent LUXE/Bow Arts Trust Production. Each screen played host to its own scenario: ‘Narcissistic Wounds: Helene Deutsch Reading,’ ‘Room Spin,’ ‘I am NOT a Dancer...’ and ‘Playful Menace (Dance & Sculpture R&D)’. ‘Desire Caught by the Tail’ was written in occupied Paris in 1941, the play is bawdy and burlesque. With characters including The Tart, The Onion, Big Foot, Thin Anxiety and Silence, Picasso’s play is a play of misery, discomfort, anguish, hunger and passion that is caught in the impossibility of its fulfilment. It is outrageous and funny, with a lyrical spoken language which incorporates high poetics and absurdist juxtapositions.1 The six-act play is described by the Guggenheim as a reflection of a day-to-day life in Paris during the second world war, though its original translator Bernard Frechtman argued otherwise. “It says nothing of human destiny or of the human condition,” he wrote in his introduction. “This in itself is a considerable achievement.” The play’s first performance, a reading at the Paris home of writer Michel Leiris, took place in March 1944 and featured Simone de Beauvoir, Jean-Paul Sartre and Valentine Hugo, as well as Picasso himself. Albert Camus directed. It was revived by the Guggenheim in 1984 with David Hockney and Louise Bourgeois in the cast.2 Eldi Dundee performed as a member of the LUXE/Bow Arts 2016 revival of the play, August 25th-26th 2016. 1 2

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http://bowarts.org/nunnery/desire-caught-by-the-tail-by-pablo-picasso https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2012/oct/03/picasso-surreal-play-new-york


SYNTHETIC SPIRITUALITY & WOODLAND FAIRY, OIL ON CANVAS 2016, BY RHIANNON REBECCA SALISBURY The painting is based on personal experience, memory and pure fantasy, it is intended as a light-hearted jibe at the community I have grown up in. I have taken photograph’s of myself and friends over the years, and collaged them into a festival-style environment where hedonism prevails. I have tried to represent the annual exodus that takes place every summer amongst my friends from London, into the “wild”. When each year there is a Mecca to a plethora of “festivals”, in various parts of the country side, it takes place so that people can unwind, and purge themselves of the stress experienced in daily life as part of a city. In one sense people go there to cleanse themselves of their daily stresses, to forget their troubles and enjoy recreational time with their friends. Yet what often happens is people expend large amounts of energy consuming toxic substances that leave them feeling tired and in need of rest upon return. There is an ironic juxtaposition that occurs between toxification and cleansing rituals in such an environment. People can be seen imbibing and consuming drugs; experiencing a synthetic high - lost in themselves rather than experiencing a deeper sense of connection to the community around them. Everybody in the crowd is painted in a slightly different style, to create a level of psychic separation between them. People can be seen dancing and there are some characters assimilated amongst the crowd who refer to pagan and celtic rituals. Many of the figures are self aware, in the knowledge they are being looked at by the viewer, or preparing to ready themselves for their next “Selfie”. This self-conscious attitude stops them engaging deeply with each other and the moment, taking the spiritual aspect away from the experience and replacing it with a mode of debauched and self-interested spectacle.

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THE AFTERMATH, INSTALLATION, BY ZOE DICKEY “By May 1916 the Henry Street Warehouse was advertisting ‘costumes and coats injured by rifle fire’. Hely’s Stationer of Dame Street was already advertisting postcards of ‘Dublin after the Sinn Fein insurrection’.” Zoe’s work questions the authenticity of evidence and evidential practice in art, history and public memory. She seeks to discover the ‘truth’ within history in which particular moments in time exist in past, present and future memory. She is interested in the small traces left behind.

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UBUNTU, INSTALLATION, STEEL, ALUMINUM AND FABRIC, 5 X 5 X 3.2M BY MARIE AIMEE Through a kinetic sculptural installation inviting the viewer to physically activate a polarised and unified space, UBUNTU intends to awaken ones consciousness and bring awareness to the impact of ones actions on the whole. I have been taught, what I own, I dispose, what I don’t own, I can’t dispose. What if I need to dispose? What if I don’t need to dispose? Does property give me the right to freely dispose? To have a sense of ownership, achievement, safety? Satisfaction of disposing what money made me believe I own? – reassuring my self ego in the belief that I am the master of my belongings’ destiny. The fantasied creation has not been shaped to serve my own hunger and pleasure. My guilt lies in the inability to arise. I am not – conscious. My unconscious self prides itself of individualistic evil, complies in the guilt of only what my flesh has done. Need to arise, need to expand, need to free, need to understand, need to open, need to disconnect from the fantasy that I only belong to the group of atoms that form my body. Red in purple: to be acknowledged. My chemical balance dysfunctions trying to adapt to an unnatural blued frame. I am slowly becoming allergic, My cells are muting rejecting their essential nature. I dispose and obey, I surrender still believing that comfort is the game.

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THE STUDIO,

INSTALLATION & VIDEO WORK, BY NATALIE ANASTASIOU

Staging is an integral part of my process. The simulation as such seems to be self-perpetuating in the 21st century and fuelled by both the artists desire for recognition and the audiences appetite for an archetypal, commodified, destructive artistic identity. My work endeavours to interrogate the close relationship between authenticity and artifice, the ambiguous entanglement between biography and mythology, the fine line between documentary and drama. In that way, concepts are appropriated from “Culture”, from fictional memory, to become, in my work, sardonic theatrical displays, “when the real is no longer real, nostalgia assumes its full meaning” (Baudrillard, 1994). The assembly and exploration of both public and private archival material is key to my practice. Archivists are no longer objective, impartial collectors of history but agents assembling a collective memory and socially constructing human identity. Ultimately, my artistic diary reaches to interrogate the social and political structures of an art world and its branded commodity. The wall between the personal and public is removed and all that remains is a mile of flickering memories.

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CHELSEA CHARACTERS DRAWINGS BY CANDICE YAP

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PRETTY PRIVILEGE (FOR ‘@ BLOATEDANDALONE4EVR1993’) DRAWING BY LIBERTY ANTONIA SADLER


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I JUST NEED TO CHARGE MY PHONE, SHORT STORY, BY PETER EVANS I never thought that this is how it would happen. I always saw some sort of sticky ending – a car crash, a plane or train – but not this, not her. And with that frying pan I loved so much. ‘It’s solid and sturdy and won’t make you ill’, that’s what she said. ‘More’ ill anyway. So there I am and she’s pulling me behind the door. She’s having to use all her strength and the opening of the Bedroom is at an awkward angle. That’s how he saw her, or us I should say. I’d only ordered twenty-four minutes ago but here he was, the Takefast driver knocking on the front room window – she’d been ignoring the bell for two minutes – peering in wondering why I wasn’t at the door ten seconds after he arrived, as is, or was rather, usually my way. I tired of cooking a few years ago. Breakfast is my thing, I will happily prepare a glorious table of fruits, drinks and stuff of more substance without even a trace of annoyance but after work it’s the last thing you want to do and she was happy for me to arrange our dining routine so we became Takefast’s best clients, easily racking up a regular three or four orders per week. Who was it this night, ah yes, David (pronounced ‘Dah-veed’, from Rio de Janeiro rather than Romford), one of the friendlier drivers. Are they drivers or riders? I’ve always thought either description undermined their importance slightly, given that they were sending food out to desperate, hunger-driven anger-riddled kitchen-lazy tax-payers all over the city. They are almost on a sort of humanitarian mission, even if they don’t quite know it. So anyway, David is peering through the window at the front of the house, an easy task at the moment due to the builders not being able to fit the blinds for yet another week. I leave her in charge of them while I go to the office so god knows what shit they are feeding her. She’s tough though and more than capable of showing anyone concerned who’s boss – as I have just found out. Probably something I should have paid a little more attention to..a lot more attention to. So, she’s pulling me by the foot, the right one, into the bedroom through the adjoining hallway from the kitchen where it happened, at an angle that makes my body turn in an uncanny fashion, twisting from my upper leg directly into my back and side like my waist never had any purpose, a way that grabs her attention more than it should at a time like this.

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Before she makes it fully into the room to shut the door David sees her, us. And worse for him she sees him seeing her…us. Frozen to the spot and still clutching our dinner, David makes the worst decision he could make in that split second - he decides to help her. Help would have been to get back on his moped, tell the rest of the guys waiting up the side street and call the police, run away from there as fast as he could and not get pulled down in a vortex of Catholic guilt, company policy and un-restrained lust. Yes, David had been to our house before and yes, I caught him looking at my wife in that way. Most people did, I didn’t mind, I actually enjoyed

it, but this would prove to be a snapped rung on David’s fall from the ladder. Frozen, helmet lifted up on top of his head, David didn’t know where to look when she opened the door. He didn’t know where to look but she did – right in his eyes. She knew she had one thing at least on her side – in fact she had a few others too but for David’s sake we’ll leave those out from now. His fear and confusion popped and crackled so she could more or less see it let alone sense it. ‘Del..delivery…for Martin’ He stumbled, tripping over the words he’d relayed with a small sense of satisfaction at completing his job seventy two times already this year alone. ‘You have to help me’ she said straight away without flinching. ‘wha...is…I…’ ‘Please!!’ she said cutting him off and pulling him into the house. At this point I should go back, as we know that David’s life has just entered a new chapter, one that will mean all the other chapters that follow it will never be the same again. But that’s a good thing right? I mean we can’t just amble through life in the safe grass, keeping away from the electric fence with our feelings and emotions all safe and secure now can we? I guess that all depends on how you look at things though. And I guess this is easy to say now I’m laying here on the kitchen floor with a body that’s slowly slipping away from me and a wife with a plan to put me in the recycling bins by the station. I’ll never forget the sun on that clear crisp January day, only eight months ago now. That feeling that I was alive, that this was what it could feel like, how it was supposed to be. Everything brighter, the colours clearer, cool air rushing over my insides and that feeling out in a wave of exaltation that would dissipate the moment I tired to grab hold of it and keep it. It lasted two seconds, a second, and it was gone. But it was there. And now I’m here, on the kitchen floor with a bump on the back of my head and a crack on the side with a thin trail of blood running over my hair line above my right ear and onto the floor. My wife had just about squeezed and pushed my contorted body inside so she could shut the door, David had now stopped knocking on the window. Above where I was laying, on the work surface of the kitchen that I regularly wiped thoroughly, countless times each day, usually after she had left a trace of whatever it was she had been preparing - salt, crumbs, oil, anything really – sat the frying pan. It was the right way up, a third of it hanging over the edge of the work surface, so if I could have I would have been able to see its worn-in underside, beautifully darkened to an oil blue black that can only be achieved with constant use and by adhering to the specified washing techniques. I wasn’t given the chance to have a last look at the rich strong steel flying through the air towards my head as I was facing the other way. I was actually bending down, reaching for the plug socket that had to be switched on to recharge my phone. Takefast were minutes away probably and I had fuck all battery left – not that this would matter most likely but I liked to track their progress and be ready in case a new driver (or rider) couldn’t find us. I liked to have my phone on anyway.


I don’t think she ever understood this. It wasn’t that I was ignoring her, as such; I would be right with her if she’d just let me finish what I was doing here. ‘I might as well be talking to the fucking wall’ she said. And so it began. It only took a few fleeting moments in somebody else’s life to get to that stage, the later rounds of the cup, the high stakes game where the rest sit back and look on, thankful they aren’t playing or wondering how it would be if they only had the stomach for it. Real life. I’d heard her but I knew – sorry, I thought - I could get away with carrying on our order. OUR order. The food that would mean we wouldn’t go hungry on this day, today. I liked to concentrate fully on it, get everything right and then it was out of my hands. I worried more than I should. Plus she might have been talking to herself, as had become the norm of late. Not much that was clear, just some half-mumbled wonderings or reflections that still, given the scaled sounds coming through the bathroom wall, betrayed her middle class roots. I’d got up from the sofa and started preparing the table when I first realized she hadn’t been talking to herself. Standing in the kitchen doorway in a towel, dripping enough water on the floor for me to start thinking that I would now have to mop it up, calmly but with a forceful urgency, she spoke: ‘I nearly drowned in there’. ‘What’s that love?’ At this point I also made a bad decision. It could have gone a different way if I’d have pretended I’d heard her but made out I thought she was talking to herself again – but I didn’t. The look on my face told her enough. ‘I said I nearly FUCKING DROWNED IN THERE’. The last four words of her sentence were turned up but not excited, almost dead of any kind of loss of control, just guttural and wild, you could even say businesses-like. ‘Oh, how? You’re alright now though yes?’ That wasn’t really a question I asked there, more of a statement on her current condition using the incorrect intonation. We all have a gripe and we all have a breaking point and some people have more gripes and bigger gripes than other people and some people reach the point where their gripe turns into something new and uncontrollable at a different speed than other people. We all need an outlet. Turns out she wasn’t really alright. We had smashed through the breaking point - well played lads, great stuff. The mumbled sounds I’d ignored coming from the bathroom were made by my wife, trying to scream as the rising water bobbed gradually higher over her mouth and nose. She’d had one of her back spasms and fallen on her side, in the bath that was filling up at a rate she had never believed possible. Usually it took an age, staring at it, running her hand through the water she knew would be a little too hot but would go a long way to releasing – or forgetting – those gripes. Unable to move her torso that had squashed her left arm the pain shot across her lower back when she tried to pull herself up with her other arm. Her head was effectively a dead weight, any movement in her lower skull or neck seemed to increase the strength of the spasm and make any form of escape inconceivable. It had happened a few times this year; it was something a little worrying but was irregular enough to keep letting it slide. She said the

Pilates helped but I wasn’t so sure. It’s important to remember here that at this point I was half way through the order, so not completely able to give any attention to much else. The cries for help started, and were ignored. The order was processed, payment receipt message received. Her rising panic had turned into stone cold fear. The loneliness of the end she had always tried to overlook. It’s funny that, given my current predicament, I feel pride in her, saying ‘Fuck that’ and crashing through the pain barrier, spasm lifting slightly as her right leg loosens from the top side of her hip and down to her knee. I am a proud husband when I think of her reaching up with her lower leg and turning the hot tap off with her big toe. Proud as punch. David didn’t see her swing the frying pan I liked to cook eggs in - fried, scrambled, omelet, breakfast had gone up a notch since I started using it – and hit me on the back of the head with as I bent down to charge my phone. He didn’t see the side of my temple crash into the corner of the work surface as I both fell forward and reflexed my body backwards simultaneously. If he had he may not have decided to help my wife from then on in. I’m pretty certain that if I’d been reading a book and not looking at my phone while my wife was struggling for her life in the bathroom then this story would be of little interest and to only a mere few. It had been building. ‘It’s just very bloody rude’ she would say, ‘you can’t even respond anymore, it’s not that you won’t, it’s that you can’t!’ Maybe if it was a book I would have been able to tear myself away, or more probably I wouldn’t have been looking at the pages while she was explaining her near death experience and trying to gage where the rescue party had been all the while. The words ‘one second, I just need to charge my phone, I have no battery’ proved to be the last that would exit this body I’ve been travelling around in. Not that I travelled very far, only on the odd occasion but more heading to and from the office really, and wandering around whatever neighborhood we happened to be living in at that time. I’m not sure if they will ever find my body, this body anyway. I would never have thought a grown man could fit in a Takefast delivery driver’s bicycle box but what do you know eh? After some frenzied persuasion and missed place trust David did help my wife, above and beyond the call of any job no matter how important it is. He helped her and he disappeared, a troubled mind unable to rest as it once had. She became paranoid he would talk, but in the thick of things she didn’t get his number and they’d planted my phone on my body before she thought to get his details from my last ever order. Her life has become a spiral of despair, guilt not so much but worry about the possibility of David letting slip about what went on that night. She orders Takefast after Takefast, one night and then the next, hoping it will be David arriving at the door but alas. Her house isn’t clean anymore. There are empty take-away boxes everywhere. If she carries on eating this much crap it will only be a matter of time before we meet again.

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BY SARAH HILL

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FRANK OH BEE! (INSIGNIFICANT),

BY CHEL LOGAN

A ring of chairs All square The Golden bag Creaking Lintel Ominous phallic glitzy presence Should I be drinking cider? What is inside the bag? Out he comes Gold Crosses Flame tattoos locking his thighs 22 Big stitched gold cross Mantras of vocabulary He kept muttering this one word... Insufficient ? Negation of utterances Emancipation Insolvent? A conflict Physical ...snd then drips the spinning milk Superate The semiotic breast pulverised Gilded milk Gilded blood Incomplete? Incompetent? Insufficient? Endurance Move the stool to another edge North,East ,South,West. 13 moves. Accepted glare rotating around. After redemption -expulsion-bleed out thoughts Attach the mic Scathing rhythmic gilded pugilist The milk spirograph dances on the surface. Will he slip? Inconceivable? Inconsequential? Inexplicable? Vocabulary Vocabulary Insignificant!

LET YOUR ROLLS UNFOLD,

POEM & DRAWINGS, BY LIBERTY ANTONIA SADLER

Let your rolls unfold Cream skin Butter pudding You’re a peach Bite and believe Bounce Play Revel in your plentiful curves Cornucopia hips Blueberry drip Juice Nutritious breasts You are a feast For the heart and for the eyes Look at my face and tell me my story You can’t Look at my stomach then She reads loud I know she is never silent Massage my ego as well as my backside Physical pride A painting Appealing Appalling Confusing Delightful My cunt overfloweth My cups F My voice unwavering To live in my oasis My body the water My mind the palm Or an alpine Spring Cascade An avalanche of energy Devour your forest When will my winter end? For some, I am always summer Popsicle Deliciously cold That divine divide Between you and yours And me and mine

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JOURNAL 16 JOHN ISLIP ST, SW1P 4JU LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM

The Punctum Journal, Issue Three, 2016  

Accompanying the Punctum Gallery, London (a space run by MA Fine Art students at Chelsea College of Arts), designed to propagate the next ge...

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