FESP Studio Art Exhibition Catalogue

FESP STUDIO ART EXHIBITION Fall 2015 Central Saint Martins

WEL C

Since September, students from the Free Elective Semester Programme (FESP) - Studio Art at Central Saint Martins have been learning and experimenting with different mediums from painting and photography, to installation and performance art. Hailing from foreign lands, the students have gained much from London’s diverse cultural and artistic offerings in their time here.

OME This final exhibition is the culmination of all that they have learnt and experienced in what has been a challenging, yet fulfilling semester together.

featuring works by

alysha tse clara aristimuùo everest shi mariana eça negreiros saloni kalkat samantha butler zhiwen yap

A LYS H A T S E Internal Metamorphosis

Mixed Media

I just held it in my hands, staring at it. I felt vulnerable putting my hand into something I had no knowledge of but had to feed my curiosity. Instantly, a different sensation arose from what I had predicted; something I didn’t expect. What was that? What is this? Is this a man-made or natural form? Was that an animal?

Is this even from this planet?

Is this even from this planet?

Explore for yourself.

EVEREST SHI What makes her a woman Mixed Media

There were ten bullets in her gun. Three of them successfully injured the enemy. Six missed the target. Then there was this last one.

Sazan saved it for herself.

Sazan had watched her sister being taken away by the enemy six month ago. Some said her sister was tortured and repeatedly raped after the capture. Some said she was killed. All kinds of rumors spread around until her sister’s dead body was found under a tree two weeks ago.

“Never let yourself be taken by an enemy.

If there is no way to escape, shoot yourself.”

Sazan’s captain told her. But never would she expect that she had to follow the advice so soon.

The memories of her first day on battlefield still seemed fresh. With only one simple glimpse she saw fear in the men’s eyes several meters away. It was not hard to tell that they were horrified about being killed by a woman, which would stop them from entering the muslim heaven. That moment she finally understood why people said that women fighters were the biggest fear of ISIS. Gunfire and bombs around her dragged her back to the battlefield. She didn’t have much time. Sazan pressed the gun toward her temple and counted down silently.

Three. Two. One. “Hello, sister.”

My piece discusses how external powers, from religious practices to education, continuously shape a woman’s character, values and understanding of the world. Given the gender inequality in many regions, these external powers are not necessarily positive. In the documentary India’s Daughter, a 23-year-old medical student was raped and killed because she went out for a movie at 9pm with a friend.

In Iraq, a 23-year-old girl joined the Kurdish Women’s Protection Union after the Islamic State killed her entire family.

However at the same time, these external powers can never be simply defined as negative. The death of the medical student triggered the largest-scale political demonstration in Indian history, and the Iraqi girl became a fighter who killed more than 100 jihadists in battle. This process of transformation complicates the significance of the external powers a woman faces earlier in her life. With various hand gestures representing outside forces in each photograph, my piece aims to invite the audience to think critically about the relationship between women and their surroundings.

MARIANA EÇA NEGREIROS More than One Mixed Media

I was sitting at my usual table at my regular bar with a school friend when I noticed a friend from a different social circle passing by. Without hesitation, I invited him to come have a beer with us. He was a conservative type -an engineer who worked for a large company- while both my friend and I were liberal arts students who tended to be open to different perspectives.

Halfway through our discussion the conversation became tense; this friend had made a close-minded point with which my schoolmate fervently disagreed‌ but still, some aspects of his argument made sense to me. I found myself disturbed. Was I close-minded too if I agreed with some of his arguments?

My inability to take either side in the discussion unsettled me; my two friends had such different opinions, yet I agreed partially with both. I was caught in a dilemma between feeling ashamed of my social group from school or of my other friend. How could I simultaneously be friends with such different people, agreeing with their divergent views?

I was not one, but one for each group, each situation, positioning myself according to the demands of the moment. How could I have never noticed that I am not one, but more than one?

not on

ne, but more than one?

SALONI KALKAT Screen Slave

Film & Installation

Our dependence on the screen has permeated daily life. The screen views our face more than anyone or anything else throughout the day. We have grown reliant on our screen to provide and display information, tools, applications, entertainment, pleasure. It has become our intimate companion - it lives with us and it sees us when no one else does. Yet, in reality, the omnipresence of the screen simultaneously distracts us from as well as perpetuates our alone-ness, and thus we become locked in a cycle.

a mechanical state of mind has swept the world

09:27 Shit I should’ve woken up earlier. *Screen opens* Open Chrome https://outlook.office.com/owa/?realm=arts.ac.uk#path=/mail https://outlook.office.com/owa/?realm=arts.ac.uk#path=/mail https://outlook.office.com/owa/?realm=arts.ac.uk#path=/mail New tab https://www.facebook.com/ https://www.facebook.com/lists/280727688607106 https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10206899015612704&set =a.1032066760722.2007281.1196992674&type=3&theater https://www.facebook.com/messages/iman.salty https://www.facebook.com/messages/conversation-925921820807504 New tab https://www.instagram.com/ New tab http://www.nytimes.com/ http://www.nytimes.com/2015/12/16/nyregion/prison-diversion-programs-innew-york-face-new-scrutiny-after-police-officers-killing.html?hp&action=click&pgtype=Homepage&clickSource=story-heading&module=first-column-region&region=top-news&WT.nav=top-news&mtrref=www.nytimes. com&gwh=89A4E2CE0783EB615EA745E703B43C21&gwt=pay New window https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/#inbox Open Word Open Itunes God how much time has passed I need to shower *Screen closes* 10:14 12:39 *Screen opens* Let’s see how fast I can write up this assignment Open Word Oh wait I’ll use Pages instead, better layout Open Pages Ughhhhh bored Open Chrome https://www.facebook.com/ medium.com https://medium.com/@gutanaka/there-is-something-extraordinary-happening-10492495c715#.5ap28hamz http://uk.complex.com/music/justin-bieber-interview-2015-cover-story http://hollywoodlife.com/2015/12/15/kourtney-kardashian-embarrassed-justin-bieber-hookup-rumors/

Ok got to work Open Pages *Typing* Open Chrome Keep going keep going come on *Typing* Done yes finally *Screen closes* 14:00 19:50 *Screen opens* What should I listen to while I make dinner Open Chrome https://www.youtube.com/ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Z66wVo7uNw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-mjl63e0ms Open iTunes I think I’ll play the radio Yes they’re playing this song Alright let’s cook the chicken Time to watch some TV Open Chrome http://www.netflix.com/browse http://www.netflix.com/watch/80061047?trackId=14170287&tctx=0%2C0%2C275bb9ba-dc92-4323-8a74e87228a56750-83807035 New episode of Reign omg here we go That was so good I’ll watch another oh but it’s getting late *Screen closes* Whatever its fine *Screen opens* Open Chrome http://www.netflix.com/browse http://www.netflix.com/watch/80061048?trackId=200257859 Ok now I should sleep First I’ll check my email again Open Chrome https://outlook.office.com/owa/?realm=arts.ac.uk#path=/mail It’s gonna take me forever to fall asleep *Screen closes* 23:57

SAMANTHA BUTLER Scene 4

Mixed Media

You don’t see it change, but it happens. You don’t see change but it happens. The ice drips down the slip of fabric, leaving in its wake a streak of hot pink paint. But wait, it’s faster than that, you look back and it’s seeping through.

But wait, it’s slower than that: you stand by waiting for action; there is nothing.

Drip, drop, drip drop.

A dehydrated plant waits beneath the desk lamp, a desperate final plea for photosynthesis. Too bad the water’s salted. Too bad the neon paint won’t do much good as it soaks into the roots.

Water soaks through the curtain, revealing a shadow of what’s behind. A body form, a green leaf and flower concealed. New life or ghosts of old? Remnants underground we do not know.

Drip. Drop. Drip, but wait not that fast.

Two steps back and something’s changed.

It’s time to walk away.

You don’t se

ee it change, but it happens.

Z H I W E N YA P not my last words Watercolour & Marker on Paper

I have lost count of the number of times I have lied in casual conversation simply by using one word- ‘parents’ with the ‘s’ at the end. To acquaintances and not-that-close friends, I have become accustomed to saying ‘my parents’ this, ‘my parents’ that in a generic way, though what I really mean is just my mom. I am not so much embarrassed of the fact as I am conscious of the potential for awkwardness that telling the truth might ensue.

I feel uncomfortable under their kindly but awkward gazes, but more uncomfortable for them than for myself. I take it upon myself to avoid imposing any obligation on people to respond in an appropriately sympathetic manner because really, I no longer feel particularly sad when my father’s passing surfaces in conversation.

Sometimes, this results in me extrapolating my father’s life into what it would have been if it had not yet ended.

“So how old is your father?”

“He’s 53.” (well, he would be) “And what does he do for a living?”

“He’s an engineer, sort of, never really figured out what exactly he does…”

It is usually all very believable to them. Perhaps these short, falsified exchanges also give me a mental illusion that he had never left.

Maybe, subconsciously that is what I want. Who knows?

(well, he would have been)

“He’s 53.”

THA

with special thanks to

Zabludowicz Collection Kelly Large Adam James Karin Kihlberg Ellen Mara de Wachter Jefford Horrigan Eva Lerche-Lerchenborg Claire Nichols

NK YOU