Pagal K. Spalvinga ne tik tapybinio kolorito turtingumo prasme. They are colorful not only in the sense of the richness of color. She reveals herself as an unrivaled and distinguished continuer of colorist Lithuanian painting. Her paintings are colorful and full of thought and emotional meaning. In the s she became fascinated with the harmony of gold and wine-colored tones as well as the fantasy of bright dreams.
This space of a rural house serves as that big world for the painter that others still try to conquer. Bent jau vizualiai. Using classical Italian Renaissance imagery, she shows mothers with buildings made out of children in the background, where their husbands are working as construction workers. The charmingly aesthetic kaleidoscope of the double portraits of twelve families forced to leave the province and go to the city due to economic circumstances explain not only personal stories, but also the deeper structures of cultural change with culture understood in the broadest of senses.
If one had to find a textile parallel for this work, you would have to describe its character as a study in comparative cultural studies.
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Mothers, grandmothers, great-grandmothers and aunts were remembered through the objects and actions that represent them. However this certainly was not because of the openness of the female line. I have to admit that the criteStories, Narratives and ria which can become personal of the selection process Meta Texts were risky, because with textile art becoming emancipated, it is simply not helpful to mention this. Here is a It is a competition exhibit that is devoted to the telling good occasion to flip the question and check whether the and retelling of stories.
Regardless of how you look at it, knowledge about the part of contemporary art that grew we suggest you look at it from a personal perspective. As is known, artists from Eastern countries unquestionable mark of maturity. Thus Wang textile as a field where the contemporariness of the work Haiyuan talks about the desire for freedom through an depends on the material, and not the idea that one works installation of flags that are waving in the wind, and in with. Beili Liu recalls the ancient Chinese le- and Ghada Amer along with many others would simply gend about the unseen ties between people from birth laugh heartily upon hearing this.
She weaved a textile of delayed whom she also happens to share a name. In this case, she emotions that have the red color of lava. It represents the treats the creation of art as magic that involves using the angered inner state and with its enormous size allows the personal things of people in order to cast spells on them. This is certainly not desired by those who of growth of Beijing with all of its indirect consequences are comfortably established, which is why change hap-. And it seems that change has yet to reach Lithuania. The theme of the exhibition makes me happy not only with its courage to look back, but also with its relevance.
When you stop to think about it, telling a story is the only real criteria in a society of excess. A story is hidden behind a name, a recommendation, or getting to know someone. But when you have to choose, starting with shampoo or a CD and ending with a home or piece of art, a story that is tied to many other stories plays a part in that decision. In some places the narrative is expressed with images, while in others it is done with words. Even the most abstract art would not exist without a story.
I would suggest thinking of the texts provided near the work which were requested under the conditions of the organizers or stories that are written down as film subtitles, which merely introduce you to the theme. Some of them are not articulated, and influence one through the senses.
For example, Kyung-ae Wang weaves enormous archetypical forms, which not only show the depression she experienced, but speak of the time needed to overcome such a condition. The rings of ghostly shapes frighten you, but also calm you. Other works are fragmentary, but are more articulate in their storytelling. Tilleke Schwarz puts everyday phrases into images. There are two fictional characters that always travel through her work — linguist Jeremy Adagio and his obedient dog Hyperion.
What is interesting is that the characters can change their gender or turn into totally different creatures. There are a number of male artists and in general male and female artists whose professional education is not connected with textile. The organizers methodically strive to include contemporary artists who understand tangibility and textile as yet another method, theme or aspect of interdisciplinary expression. A magnified scale is provided for her work, and the viewer is physically pulled into the space of the work. She convinces you that the parts of the world are a set of equivalents.
By joining together different medias video and a sound installation , she offers new ways of understanding music, film and texts. Or F4 Artist Collective, which is a famous of artists from New Zealand who examine the links between one another like the structure of a textile. At least visually. The clothes, which were remade into almost unwearable design objects, speak of childhood as a period of discipline, when the subject of the dresser the child is still beyond the limits of language.
If the body expects elasticity from clothing in the name of freedom of movement, then what kind of flexibility should the garb of an extremely dynamically changing shadow have? It is an interactive piece, where the viewer can put clothing on his or her shadow. This interesting game raises totally unexpected, almost phi-. Where does being end? Should we worry about our shadow? As there are 32 artists, there are also that many stories. She makes the theme of love relevant in a consistent and varied manner, this time highlighting the destructive force of a strong feeling.
For this she employs references to the depiction of textiles in the iconography of art history. Love works as a destructive like light to an are not only told subjectively, but also understood just as undeveloped role of film , but unavoidable unit. That is why your participation is necessary. One of the regular stars of the biennial, Fiona Kirkwood, continues to look for ways to conquer or at least lessen the hostility between people that arise due to race or cultural differences.
For this she uses human hair, the changing color of which is tolerated without any problem. She uses the hair not as an abject a term from Julija Kristva, which means a part of the body is separated from the body, which just a moment before was alive, and now has become a reference to death , but like a decorative textile work. Hair of different colors is braided together, creating beautiful ornaments. The visual dance is created not so much for beauty as for a hint at a perfect togetherness of society. She had the privilege and responsibility of being the Estonian Minister of Culture, and as an artist she was interested by the symbolic weight of carpets laid out in the corridors of the ministry.
They clearly showed their power, which is why they were destined to become a subject of reinterpretation. Katie Waugh goes the same route by shaking up the landscape of images of political symbols. And it is precisely in her drawings that she lumps together the tablecloths and curtains from official meetings, and in one artistic act manages to truly create a threatening feeling of instability. After all, decisions that are crucial to people and nations are made in board rooms as well as conference, rally and debate halls.
Tapestry, classic gobelin weaving. Tai lyg gyvenimas kitoje planetoje, kitame pasaulyje, kuris jau dingo visam laikui. My parents met after the war. Dad taught physical culture in the institute where my mother studied math, and soon they liked each other. She came to Moscow from Yaroslavl, young and beautiful on the old photographs.
As an officer and institute teacher my dad received special ration, including tinned stew, condensed milk and even chocolate. He even had a separate room in a dormitory, and very soon there were already four of us living there. At first I was an octobrist, then - a pioneer, and later - a young communist. And then I grew up, got married and gave birth to a son, I studied at school, went into sports and visited pioneer who now already has a family of his own.
Life is passing camps. I was keen on music and designing. I was a reaso- very fast, in fact. Such mi- net, in a different world which is gone forever. I can revive litary units in fact were still in use at that time. He used to tell us often, me and my younger sister, a story about him being sent back Does memory at all exist? Or is it only the imagination of to the home front with a mission to return with bicycle the past? We lived in Moscow, near the famous Lefortovo prison. A friend of mine had windows with a sight of a prison yard, where political prisoners walked around.
Adults jokingly frightened us with this jail, and we were really scared to pass it by. But all this was somewhat unreal or irrelevant, as if it was seen with peripheral vision. Cotton 3 x x 75 cm. My own sense of personal and cultural identity is shaped not only by my life experiences but also by hers.
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Her father my great grandfather was a Quaker and conscientious objector in World War I and was imprisoned for refusing to fight. As his health deteriorated in prison, my great grandfather finally agreed to take part in the non-combatant service in the last year of the war, but the physical and mental scars of his prison experiences stayed with him and his family for many years. There was much lingering resentment towards conscientious objectors and their families in the post war period.
The crosses on their home also continued to single them out in their new community, where so many men had been lost to war.
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By World War II my grandmother had married and my father was born. This work was exhibited in the UK in without a content description in order to research the range of meanings that viewers derived from the work and the cultural and personal histories and experiences that informed their readings of the textiles. Buvo ne taip. In art I make up characters. The dog, Hyperion, is one of them. His master, the self taught linguistic researcher, Jeremi Adagio, is another.
Jeremi wants to find the truth about everything, to save the world. He sends Hyperion to seek through all the different layers of language we have at our disposal. The overriding questions are: How do we make use of our communicative abilities in verbal layers and in non-verbal layers? And how do we promote ways to express our wordless experiences as well as those suited to be processed in theoretical analysis?
In the beginning darkness faded from premonitions, visibility, sound and rhythm. And by the influence of the surrounding, language made way in between the stars and landed in our mouth like a giant nebula. Language was made of scattered words that were all one million times bigger than the thought or just as much smaller. It could grow from this nebula, because the thought was so slow it could not resist its own attraction and grow into shapes. Meaning appeared through the words, sometimes as a conceptual appendix to thought. It is unknown when, but it turned out that concepts, in a temporary manner, would show to be surprisingly accurate in their presentations of phenomena and occurrences.
In the excitement and satisfaction over this conceptual precision it got mistaken for permanence and attempts were made to actually carve the language in stone. So, language transformed from nebulous gas to stone; the time span is not known, but it is obvious that this caused difficulties. Both religions and sciences were carved before it was decided that no concepts were to be specified without an account for their temporariness. This was not the case. I start again: the official representatives of science, whisking their magic wands in the rest mass of history, ought to have understood that no linguistic ability of any kind must be.
This was not realized. The others are still carving away in stones and rocks. All communicative ability is of eternal value, but it is also very shy and etheric, it gasifies easily and can even cease to be, if threatened. But at the same time it holds magnificent possibilities if one does not get too infatuated with the idea of exactness.
Also non verbal perceptions found, from the very beginning, ways to communicate; often far away from words, but also with their help, in the autonomous layers of meaning that can occur in the space between them. The space between words was never named. And anyone can learn to read that space if encouraged to do so.
Whenever you crave for an explanation of a tone, or to understand a move, to get hold of a form or to gain insight as to how images are produced, you are referred to concepts and they will carry out their necessary disassembly of the matter and thus the implicit clarity is scattered. Something else takes its place. It might be strongly connected and equally interesting, but it is something else.
When language, of any kind, is allowed to tell something that will tell something about something it shows a vivid reception of the influence of the surrounding. A vivid reception of this influence is never mute and it never reveals itself in a mere echo. It makes its way in the unfathomable variety of a resonant afterglow; and in that resonant afterglow, vehicles of meaning make their headway. These paragraphs are fragments of a temporary theoretical assembly of how language through our senses adopts various forms - from gas, through matter, to concepts.
The lingual multitude is vast; you might find stone cooperate with scissors and paper and thus find how these three pictures struggle for interpretative prerogative. In my country you can also come across lingual wood phraseological units? In the beginning language was a whole, but the words cut in and took over and our non verbal perceptions were limited. Impressions increase in myriads as we go along, but ways to express them are mistreated in our time — hindered, almost impassable, made invisible and, as a consequence, often regarded as abstruse; especially by Ministers.
And, to add insult to injury, even Ministers of Culture. The accuracy that concepts have is coherent with our contemporary superstitiously over dimensioned belief in theoretical analysis and control. It shows a disastrous lack of trust in ordinary human uncertainty and our tongues participate frenetically in the confusion it has created and language is hereby often severely damaged. One might find it comforting, though, that the confusion can show useful if allowed to be a starting point and not mistaken for a terminus.
The 17th of March is the exact date when I met my former yokefellow. So the story of my artwork is not a repetitive event - it was a fact, as well as the one that the visual expression of the tapestry is a single fragment of life which I chose randomly.
It was important to me that the composition of my work would be daily and material so that it would be eager to transform my intimate spaces into the space of public experience where all our lives, our things, acts and feelings are tangled up with the correlating threads. When you take a pen and draw a dot on the table, it will not only be visible, but, moreover, will transform the table. Everyday we speck our lives with so many dots that disappear in commonness though irreversibly modifies it.
In season and out of season we balance amongst coincidence and improbability, necessity and commitment. So we each carry a responsibility of choosing the things we want to remember and the things we choose to see. So I put my choices and options into the tapestry intending to show how the story of one person can change the narrative of the family or the whole society. Those dots are the things which all came into my kitchen under bizarre circumstances — the cupboard of my first husband in which I placed the cups given as a present of my unfamiliar cousin from Belorussia, the water-glass that travelled its way form Chicago, a bunch of teapots pre-owned by so many different people, the coaster of the 17th of March.
When I watch and count the items and faces in the sight, everything looks so separate but when I include myself into this picture, everything becomes united. All the things assembled into the daily composition tell MY story. Starting from the symbol of the date I made every object visible and so transformable for the viewer. We live in a multilingual world where everyone has his own choices for his own narrative which is composed out of many different personal and universal stories.
So my intention was not to create but to recreate the narMany dots that formed and transformed my life found rative of my life. These dots are my reflected itself in present, the reality formed itself in turn.
Visur vyko boikotai ir demonstracijos, bet ne mano gimtajame mieste. Kelerius metus po to mano mokyklos rajonas vis dar buvo segreguotas. Ar Dr. Railroad tracks were often the dividing point between the white and black parts of the town in north Texas where I grew up. This separation created two different standards of education, health care, employment and just about anything you could think of.
Daily trips across the tracks were made by men and women going to domestic or menial jobs in the white world. I grew up with my grandmother who was a cook and domestic until she started working for the public school system. Later she managed a cafeteria in one of the segregated elementary schools in my hometown of. On the other hand, Saturday shopping was an opportunity and adventure to see what was new. What girl could pass up an opportunity to buy a new dress or a pair of shoes. More likely it was an opportunity to put some desired item on Lay-A-Way, a precursor to buying on credit.
You would put a payment down and make instalments until the item was paid in full. As a tall girl I could never find pants long enough so I focused on shoes as a point of desire. Dressing nicely to go shopping was necessary to prevent harassment. There were actually some stores I never entered because they were too expensive for us and we only looked in the window. Even today I am mindful of shop clerks watching me. Everyone looked out for each other. The watchful community provided a greater sense of safety than seems present today. It was considered impolite not to speak when you passed someone on the street.
As was typical of the period, the male head of household took a leadership role at home and in the community. My uncles still chauffeured me to parties and events until I was married. Wichita Falls. Many black women like her led dual lives and cared for two families at the same time. I have fond memories of her cooking and our conversations about sewing, fishing and gardening.
My collective mothers including my mother, stepmother, two grandmothers, two great grandmothers and many aunts all played their part to bring me to womanhood. My passion for aprons started with these women and our times in the kitchen cooking, canning preserving foods for winter , talking and eating. Even in northern and western cities separate worlds existed.
Medical professionals were not allowed to join medical or nursing associations. They had to establish their own organizations to promote educational advances and professional networking. Black nurses were particularly important as they helped with prenatal care, child births and early childhood education. Public health nursing was critical in rural and urban African American life. I went to school with a girl who had polio and I have clear memories of the vaccination campaign that was conducted by public health nurses when I was in elementary school.
Their selfless service was important to the whole community. This service model may have been a contributing factor to entering social service after I graduated from college. In the early s the civil rights movement got started and many of the old separate but equal which never really were equal doctrines began to be challenged. Boycotts and demonstrations were in full force but not. The handwriting was on the walls and gradually movie theatres and lunch counters were open to everyone. I graduated from high school ten years after Brown vs.
Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas which declared separate schools unconstitutional. My school district was still segregated several years after that. I never really knew many of the people who were involved in civil rights. This happened because the press was white and decidedly biased. Ruby Bridges, a very young civil rights participant was unknown to me until I moved out of Texas. Her courage models how all of us can move beyond hatred and fear. As I became adult the separate worlds began to collide. Was it good to have desegregation? Would Dr. I wondered as I explored new clothes, new music, new people, new hairstyles and different places.
On we go in the age of war and change. I visualize the shadow as a small portable stage, following me like a cloud and creating moving images similar to a dance. I imagine the shadow as a form always in motion, approaching a theatre piece owning a potential of narration or choreography. In A wardrobe for my shadow, I trace my own shadows to make patterns for clothing that I tailor afterwards.
From these fluid, abstract shapes I create phantasmagorical, improbable, unusable clothes. The spectator is compelled to engage with the work by projecting his or her fleeting shadow onto the clothes. They lie like islands in the dark floor. They lie as bodies sleeping. Quilted, the garments inspire comfort and the lighting system fixed on tripods subtly suggests the body. The story has no beginning and no end; it depends on the journey of the The garments have been initially created for a specific site, spectator in the space. The pieces are made of linen. I chose this ma- space-temporality.
The design of the clothes is inspired hes become a site of exploring the materiality and textuby the historical past of the building. The mise en espace res of something usually regarded as intangible. I have of the pieces and the composition create a new form of been inspired by two stories where the main character living picture that the public can activate or reactivate lost his shadow: Peter Schlemihls by De Chamisso and The through its presence trying on the clothes.
The picture Shadow by Anderson. In the first story, the author uses can be reactivated individually or collectively through the language to give materiality to the shadow and in the the synchronization of the participants. Ant jo duksubangavo. Ji suprato, kad tai — stiklas. After a while, he became incapacitated in the task, it appeared that the ground, his own backyard became unstable.
Now, the struggle to control his vision and so execute this simple action even affected his ability to stand upright. Sweat came over him and stung his eyes; it felt that in this decisive moment his sanity depended on his ability to succeed. The air he breathed became thick and cloying, with each intake seeming less like the contiguous life force of all his years and more like some kind of solid matter. Time itself seemed dense, like a heavy weight on his body.
All at once he realised that rather than trying to control the apparatus in front of him, he was clinging to it, as though his life, his very relationship with the world, depended upon it. Two All the while the daughter was drawing; she drew incessantly. Oddly the thrill of that ride completely eluded her and she remained almost unaware of the bicycle, the rider and the passing landscape. Instead, hunching over a small pad, she never ceased the drawing she was engaged in for a moment, pen constantly in contact with paper.
Too young to actually write, she merely affected the look of it, she drew writing, pages and pages of it, all different sizes, colours and styles, on whatever surface she could procure. Objects, notes, drawings, songs, movement, spoken word and games, all inter-related in an immensely complex mimesis, a simulacrum, an unconscious reassembly of her life. When the bicycle reached its destination, the writing served as a map of the journey, every bump accurately recorded in minute detail.
Three The brother walked through the scene, aware of the other two only in form; he hummed as he always did when on one of his meandering perambulations, a private sound resulting from a controlled flow of air through the vocal chords, in and out of the nostrils. Perfect tonal modulation and complex, layered rhythms synchronised with his footsteps, which added a subtle base line, charting the terrain like a seismoscope.
The vibration peaked and troughed in response to the intensity and tone of his personal concert, the effect resonated in his head, subtly numbing the cartilage in the front of his skull, the delineation between inside and outside becoming less distinct. The technique was completely private, his and his alone. Yet somehow it seemed to allow him moments of intimate contact with those aspects of lived experience, which were more abstract. Time itself, for example. He passed between his sister and father, walking on.
Four She looked up at that moment, her mending in hand. Through the window at which she was sitting she saw her husband and two children, beyond the old camellia. She shifted her body and the scene curiously undulated in a wave-like motion. She realised it was the glass; it had been installed at the time her great grandfather had built the house.
She found she could counter the movement of her son by gently changing her position, causing his figure to expand and contract. Eventually her focus shifted to the glass itself and she craned her neck so that the angle of incidence was more oblique and she could examine the physical imperfection in the glass. When she looked closely in this way, she could see the glass was not flat, the surface was wavy and the glass, always wet, had become thicker at the bottom.
She could also see tiny air bubbles, trapped inside the transparent material. She imagined for a moment that it was air her great grandfather had breathed and remembered the one time she had met him in the very same place she now sat. He had been sitting on the sofa with his daughter, who herself seemed impossibly old. At the time she was a girl of only four years, the kiss goodnight had been a frightening prospect. The skeletal hand reached out and touched her shoulder as she leaned forward and it was then the smell registered, all at once everything seemed to intermingle with this earth-like odour.
Time slowed and appeared to take on a substance of its own, becoming thick and viscous like molten glass. The girl was momentarily suspended in an immutable aquarium of shared air and breath, and then. Suddenly, the scent of his age had revolted her and her kiss involuntarily turned into a splutter. In that split second the past and the present collided and sitting by that same window, she physically re-enacted the bodily jolt of that childlike revulsion. It was at this moment that she felt the prick of pain from her forgotten needle, jolting her back to the present as the small drop of blood welled from her fingertip.
Postscript Some days later when he was developing the photograph, he observed something he had not seen before; he felt it too, in his bones, something eternal. He noticed in the red light of the darkroom, his own silhouette on the wet photographic print, which depicted a girl in the act of drawing. Taip pat ir naujoji Kinija stulbinamai greitai auga. This is a story about 12 mothers and their 12 children, and the 12 animals of the Chinese zodiac. All of the 12 mothers and their children, now living in Beijing China, were originally from 12 different provinces of China.
They all came to the big city of Beijing with their husbands who are construction workers building the new China. Greatly moved by the beauty of Italian Renaissance painting, and most especially the Madonna and Child symbolism, I sought to imbue the new China art with the same spirit. During the process of creating this work, I gradually found the understanding of the connection between the. Chinese society of today and Italy of the Renaissance.
The current conditions manifest the same gaps in cultural and wealth distribution in these two cultures. I began this project with a casting call to find the best mothers and their infants to express the dichotomies of the new China society and the rapid development of the new China economy. The mothers came from distant villages all over China. Their husbands were low-wage workers in the construction sites. In Twelve Moons, the children are 3 to 8 months old, a period of the most rapid physical growth, as the new China is emerging after stunning growth.
The Chinese zodiac is a year cycle. The birth-year animal is believed to be the determining factor in each person's life. The background of each photograph is a composite of several digital photographs: a "mash-up" of the new and the old China. Firstly, the relationship between the mother and the child. From the ethnic and the propaganda viewpoints, she performs her duties. But as an abstract reproducer, she brings a citizen of future, a valuable person and a hero of the future. As objects of production and reproduction, children have different feelings in family and society.
Secondly — the relationship between heroes and composition. The composition and colouring of Chinese Mother made this work fill with serious feeling of western classic painting. Circular composition tells people that the universe is endless, no beginning and no ending, which is related to the holiness in the western holy images. Beside the western classic art factors, I tried to give us a hint of Chinese traditional space concept reflecting in sociology, such as round heaven, square earth which equals to male dominant society and discourse systems in sociology.
Around mother and baby, there is male dominant discourse system. They are under male dominant social round space, disciplining, teaching and relying. Thirdly - the relationship between the infant and tattoo. Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches is regarded as Chinese traditional time measurement way, which is different from western time measurement way. Fourthly — the relationship between heroes and background. There is a specific social background behind each hero. They are grouped into a number of simple geographical landmarks and living environment, such as the building in the core city, the political institute, the reconstructive scenic area, the huge construction area, the Imperial burial Guard, the modernized parking area and the city, the developing village and so on.
These surroundings reflect that China is under modernization. Modernization provides the Chinese mother and her child with an expecting and upset maze stage. The dual attributes in the Chinese infant are producer and reproducer, who will come across each other in this stage. Specific Chinese happiness and unhappiness will be with them, just like the Chinese modernization context they live by. Finally, about eloquent textiles, which reveal in these pieces through the clothing of the mothers. I asked each mother to select a piece of clothing that is considered exquisite.
On the day of the Photo shoot, they came in their selected clothing, which were considered as their most valuable at the moment.
In Tibetan residential areas, there are all colours the tool that spreads abroad scriptures in the flag; and of cloth, which are scripture flags or Fengma flag. The Tibetans think the euFengma, is longda in Tibetan — long means wind, and da demon that protects mountains and rivers in their places means horse. So Fengma flag can be called Fengma scrip- are zan god of heaven and nian god of earth.
The two ture flag. The real meaning of fengma is that the wind is gods always ride on horseback through the snow-cove-. This idea was illustrated and printed on the scripture flag by a walking horse with a Norbumoba, spells, scriptures or pictures of vows. The Norbumoba is a cone fire figure which is the symbol of fortune, prosperity and longevity. The scripture flags are usually made of cloth, sometimes yarn of ramie, silk or raw paper.
It is usually shaped to a square, a rhombus or a rectangular form, from 10 to 60 centimetres wide. Its length ranges from strips to a roll of cloth. People hang them on the pole or scatter them In the deepest sense, the fengma refers to luck and fate, everywhere. In the holy mountains and lakes, people display the scripture flags which are The whole scripture flag is the integration of sense and printed with gods or eudemons for sending their wishes sensibility, which expressing good wishes and spirits of to the gods in the heaven.
With the wind blew, Fengman flags are waving. The Tibetans believe that when the wind blows the flags, The Tibetans always place their own or the departed's the scriptures on the flags will be read. The scripture flag is the record of belief in the Tibetan's heart as well as the dream of the future and the wish of destiny. Most would consider such a the folding and unfolding. These acts echo in the works room to be empty and devoid of human presence. Hillard, by Hillard through the concepts of touch, cloth and meinspired by this forgotten room and the subtle imprints of mory.
By mapping the absence, Hillard hoped to confirm the presence, re-tracing and merging the history of the launIt is difficult to imagine laundry work in the late-ninete- dry, the specifics of site and the meaning of materials. This is no easy memorial, incomplete yet, somehow, full. Hillard offers a creative split between past and present. The gap in time, gifts us authorship, allows us to fill the gaps. In this absence, Hillard reminds us that history is always mutable. The above story Folds developed from research undertaken at the National Trust archive by the artist Ainsley HIllard and the subsequent catalogue essay written by Angela Maddock.
Ji traukiasi. I have this memory of myself paralyzed, in a dress I loved with an embroidered rose on the chest. My eyes are fixed on a couple my parents knew. This couple is in a fight, screaming at each other. She is backing. He is leaning almost over her. Their smallest daughter is hiding her face. The rest of the kids are playing silently around the corner. I and my parents are the only ones actually looking at them fighting. Pa- www. I have started to take an interest in experiences Throughout all the spring I was creating that marvellous and myths connected with tomatoes in Tomato sprouts gave fruit and a baby was born.
A tomato in my work is a symbol giving a possibility to develop a talk and, through it, to get to know the person you deal with. I tried to dye cotton cloth with fresh tomatoes in To my amazement a red tomato picture faded after two weeks, while I was always scared of tomato stains on my clothes thinking they are unwashable. Then I came to a conclusion that sometimes we trust the information which is wrong.
I lost it! She swallowed those tomatoes easily as a candy without much effort while chatting with me. A central personage is a man. I asked my pregnant friend to be a poseur for my new work. It was spring and tomato sprouts where growing on my windows when she came to my studio. Pagrindinis darbas pri-. These works portray Alice Kyteler, or indeed Alice Kettle an intriguing coincidence of name — the Kilkenny sorceress and the first recorded witch in Ireland. I first came across her on one of my visits to Kilkenny and indeed when I "googled" my name as you do into the computer it was Alice the witch who appeared first, so I felt I knew her already.
I have discovered more about the wealthy Dame Alice Kettle; she was married 4 times and then accused by her children of poisoning and sorcery. In a case was brought of blasphemy, of heresy and of the sacrifice of cockerels and peacocks. She escaped on the eve before she was to be burnt at the stake, and Petronilla, her maid was burnt in her place.
It is a powerful and rich story and within it the first recorded accusation to a witch lying with an incubus, a demon like figure. I have portrayed the medieval Alice in a stitched portrait, reminiscent of Elizabeth I, the English Tudor queen of 2 centuries later, whose singularity, by contrast, defined her strength and power.
The key work echoes the paintings of the Tudor Queen by Nicholas Hilliard and Marcus Gheeraerts the Elder which are iconic in their genre and decoration. The mask like face of the queen is dominated by her dress which is laden with symbols of power and majesty. In the background are backdrops of no man lands, but places which position the queen as a puppet. She is barely real or human and defined by others perceptions of her,.
Both Elizabeth and Alice have intense vulnerability allied with power. In my portrayal of Alice Kyteler, I have hidden in her skirts the talismanic emblems of decoration and the celebrations of womanhood, made of fabrics from the dresses my mother made for my sisters and I, and pieces of wood and objects which concern my life of making and craft which have served to mend my own broken relationships. In the background are the husbands, again acutely vulnerable and swept up in the force of the accusations.
I keep a respectful distance from Alice Kyteler, since it is with a sense of unease that I connect with a witch. I know that in thread there is the magic to conjure up and lead to another universe with its power to transform. One work shows this alchemy of thread with test tubes filled with whispering threads and beginnings of the magic of making. The husbands are portrayed as broken men, yet reconstructed, and like me they are built through stitch.
They are like assemblages of parts which represent our broken parts with beauty, longing and desire to be resurrected. They are hopeful and positive. All these references are my opportunity to be strong in what I do, who I am and to reveal the possibilities and alchemy of thread. So to finish with a story called the golden thread. An East European traditional tale tells of an old woman who lived in a cave, seeing the world through a small hole.
She sends out white doves to collect good deeds in the form of golden threads, which the doves bring back and pass through the hole to the old woman. She embroiders the threads into a cloth which one day will cover the world with universal joy. The work also talks about the self divided by this background, never really being one thing or the other nor quite belonging anywhere and attempting to integrate these two parts by living life on two continents and moving backwards and forwards between them.
I was born in Scotland of a Scottish father and a South African mother and then emigrated alone to South Africa as a young woman. Since then I have always retained a link with Scotland and now have a flat in Edinburgh. I have chosen to use my hair as a metaphor, a marker of my identity, DNA and personal growth. Hair is renewed in repeated cycles, indicating the repetition of this cycle in my own life in terms of maintaining contact with my two worlds.
The installation, featuring a collection of suspended hair The film footage expands on the timeline and shows me panels digital print , a prominent timeline embroide- in both countries talking about my life. The hair panels show the contrast and complexity between. When I had just become the minister and opened the door of Estonian Ministry of Culture for the first time, I was struck by a red stair runner there. The carpet reminded me of corridors of power from the Soviet era. I have never loved pseudo-Byzantine glory, but the reason why red carpets are considered magic, raised my deepest interest.
When it was decided at the ministry that these worn runners will be replaced with new ones, I decided to ask the old ones for myself.
Memories and emotions of three and a half year experience of work in the Cabinet were an impulse to the series of Carpets of Power. To think who must have walked up and down these runners in the past… Carpets Elect Me! Each time promises are more enticing and faces more photo shop genic than last time. I have had to face my face on an election poster … many times. I admit it is not pleasant even though the pictures have gained in quality and beauty. It is still appalling to see my tuned self in the city and in media.
Each candidate wears a certain number and this number is also written on the election. These measures speak of a person much more than a random number on a slip and this way the elector will also know what kind of a woman Signe Kivi really is! You become someone at whom people take out their anger.
You become voluntary doormat. This is why my mats are exhibited on the floor, but the long tuned stair runner takes higher. The way our dreams do. The project is dedicated to my previous and future colleagues - ministers of culture. Installation at the Kaunas Airport. During the years from to , thousand Lithuanians emigrated from their country.
To me this topic is important, since my friends and family members are leaving their country, and people of my age make the greatest number of them. Why is this happening? I realize art as a way to speak to the public and the community about important subjects. Also art can gather minded groups to strengthen their consciousness, sense of community through discussions and art practice.
My project My dad — the emigrant consists of visual art elements objects, video , research gathering of statistics. The character of the video — a little girl, who does not know her dad, or she imagines him as the Santa Claus from somewhere, who sends her little gifts which sometimes do not suit her age and interests. Their eyes are saying enough. Buvo vasara. Exiled to the back of the wardrobe, it caught my eye while I was putting in order an amount of old clothing.
It was summer. Nevertheless, I did not hesitate to try it on and take a look in the mirror. It evoked an incredible feeling of protection when I realized that the garment represented a shelter offered by my mother. From then on, I started to be interested in the functions of clothing, especially those referring to the provision of warmth and protection. One does not put on the same outfit for sport and job interviews. Her love is, in fact, symbolivenimo situacijas. Ji kabo spintos gale, tokia pat deaktyvuota kaip buvo mamos kailiniai, ji laukia, kol bus panaudota. Jau nebe. Project self-confidence wardrobe has successfully helped me to face various emergency situations in my personal experience.
Collection has also a dress to forget about you, but don't worry, nobody knows who you are. Because, you know, I am not afraid of the future. Not anymore. The ancient Chinese legend of the red thread tells that when children are born, invisible red threads connect them to the ones whom they are fated to be with. Over the years of their lives they come closer and eventually find each other, overcoming the distance between, and cultural and social divides.
The installation Lure makes use of thousands of hand spiralled coils of red thread suspended from the ceiling of the gallery. Every coil is pierced in the centre by a sewing needle. Lure is the first project of the series. Dizaino mokykla buvo privati institucija. The thematic and formal inspiration for the works in the installation Speicher is VariaVision— Unendliche Fahrt, a lost intermedia work on the subject of travel realized in by Alexander Kluge texts , Edgar Reitz films , and Josef Anton Riedl music. A spatial installation with simultaneous screening and replay of films, multichannel music, and voice recordings, VariaVision offered new ways of perceiving music, film, and text.
Reitz and Kluge taught at the School of Design in Ulm. In the short period of its existence, from —, the School exerted strong influence on German and international design, art, and media history. The School of Design was a private institution. It resumed the forcibly terminated tradition of the Bauhaus, defining the concepts of modernism, utopia, design, everyday culture, education, sciences, and early digital culture in the spirit of a democratic and aesthetic new start in Germany after In the School of Design became home to one of the first electronic studios in W.
The studio with its new, purely electronically produced sounds was successfully used by international composers and music producers. So Riedl produced the music for VariaVision in this studio. For Speicher the studio in the Deutsches Museum Munich was brought back to life. Embedded in them, a polyvocal collage of texts on travel and movement is heard. There is no linear narration in Speicher, rather topics, stories, and time levels weave in and out of the present in sound loops and spirals.
The camera moves slowly through one single winter night, flying over the front and back of a drawing produced by a sewing machine. Holokausto siaubas. Ji stovi ten, www. Nors kai kurios. Years ago I bought an old pair of children's shoes on a flea-market in Berlin. They looked like two of a pair: same make, same leather, similar degree of wear and tear, but the left shoe was remarkably bigger than the right one.
The shoes moved me. They had obviously been worn extensively and repaired and repaired, with tears and cracks in the leather and tiny nails hammered in their soles. The way their confident asymmetry was so perfectly wed with two-of-the-kind, without making a 'proper' pair, pierced me. But what derailed me is their link to wartime, fascism in Germany. I remembered my cousin Edith for the first time in decades. Edith was five years older than I and died at We only met a few times when I was small as our fathers had become estranged, but I found her again in a pho-.
Everyone is smiling; my mother's face is lit up like I have never seen it. Edith is four years old. She stands there, her little body tense, pressing her hands to her middle as if about to fold in on herself. While some of the women wear sleeveless dresses she wears a heavy coat, with a small round collar; the cuffs of a sweater peek out from its sleeves. Her dark trousers have congealed into a black pedestal for a legless girl. Stern-faced, she looks into the camera: a girl with a hunchback and one foot in a shoe with a high-raised sole. The crumpled newsprint I found in the shoes was from a German newspaper, Why were the shoes put aside at this time?
Had the child outgrown them? Had she been taken away? German history weighed in. The horror of the holocaust; and fascism's denial of an. The memory of Edith has impacted on the work I make. My "Changeling-pieces" speak of bodies that buckle under the strain of difference, and draw their lifeblood from it. They are simple, diminutive, absurd, have pathos and humour. Per ketverius metus ateina ir istorija. When you weave on a tapestry for more than four years, many things might happen, not only in the world which rushes past with increasing speed and global complexity, nor only in the close environment, where birth and death as ever go hand in hand with one another, but especially within yourself, because throughout the many hours of almost meditative work you take stock of yourself and contemplate your own past and future.
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