Still Waters drain 2

Still Waters (Between Estrangement and Reconciliation) 1997                                                                                                    For the eye looking for an incidental space, the drain on the second floor of the Singapore Art Museum overflowed with political and aesthetic possibilities for me. As part of the recodification from a colonial institution into a contemporary art space, it was neither truly inside nor outside the museum. Yet, it served as an architectural footprint that re-framed the extensive hermetic glass walls - a seal the entire Museum and its contents. The abject nature of the drain also signals an implicit threat - that of potential chaos from the inundation of tropical rains. Still Waters 1997 operated in the double registers of installation and performance during the aftermath of the 5th Passage controversy leading to the State’s defacto ban on performance art in Singapore. Measuring 33 cm wide, the drain was chosen for its sense of journey - the passing of time and the remaking of histories. Negotiations with the Museum were made to block it up to build up a body of water with customised glass dams to perform in, thus reversing its original function of siphoning rain waters away. Still Waters 1997 was therefore a collection of moisture held for so long in obeisance to the marked and sealed glass borders of the Museum. As an art material, the drain water provided a site for the re-enactment of a loss of innocence, that of the body, female, abject, in a space that is itself abject since it is neither truly a part of the architecture nor its institutional function of showing art, thus mirroring the “fugitive” status of the body of performance in Singapore. To witness that body’s performance in the drain, the audience was compelled to face the drain, and in so doing, turn their bodies away from the Museum interior to re-orient their gaze towards the glass walls, the drain, the artist, and inadvertently, the streets outside the museum. An inversion occurs - the Museum and its contents became the background rather than the foreground for the spectacle of art. In the act of my immersion in the drain and the process of traversing its narrow length, water was displaced into the corridor space as the material's ephemeral gesture of ‘infiltrating’ the Museum. Like the water seeping through the cracks in the floor, and hence its “illegality”, the work invites the socio-political and the personal-political to enter and fill the critical gaps wherever “innocence” is proclaimed.                                                              

5 Stars Peace Quilt side

Bloodline of Peace 2015 | 5 Stars - Art Reflects on Peace, Justice, Equality, Democracy and Progress                                         

A transient state, Peace is often defined in terms of absence - as and in the absence of war and bloodshed (nation) or conflict (individual). To be present, and sustainable, it requires active construction, education and maintenance - a task compositely enforced by legions of armed forces and medical personnel in wartime with the ongoing contribution of civilian populations. Not least in this calibration is access to acceptable standards of quality of life that meet not only basic human needs (food, water, education and safety from harm) but human rights as well. Peace is not simply a cessation of war.

Born of a national impetus to audit the narratives of identity and nationhood at the milestone of Singapore's 50th year of independence,  Bloodline of Peace 2015 was commissoned by the Singapore Art Museum to reflect upon the state of peace, one of the five stars symbolized in the national flag. It occurs as a monumental quilt with a running length of 40 m by 1.2m in width. When installed,  it is approximatley 24 m in total length by 2.2 metres in width. Hand-made in its entirety, 34,560 square plastic lenses are individually cut with a total of 138,240 holes pierced in the corners of each lens. Stainless steel pins link and orgnaize them into an assemblage of 11,520 lens units within each of which a miniscule drop of human blood is sealed. Architecturally structured as a grid, the artwork possesses an inbuilt flexibility to present undulating waves in sweeping spans of varying depths originating from as high as four metres within the given space. Yet, it remains reconfigurable in shape, size or undulation for any future venue because of this very fabric-like design attribute.

Suspended from the ceiling, the work appears like floating veils; its patchwork magnifies fragments of the environment even as the light visually flare into stars as it passes through   like fireworks against the sky as canvas. Its physical dimensions and materiality compel the audience to wander between its folds or under its overhanging canopy to behold and explore up close and afar, at once intimate yet see-through, private but completely public. As the viewer changes position, these starry flares appear to follow the viewer’s gaze, seamlessly presenting exciting sequences in changing perspectives and profiles of the artwork. Remarkably, this creates in the audience the sensation that he or she is the centre of experience. This effect of the work “looking back” at the looker occurs upon entry into the space until each is out of the other’s perceptual field. 

The notion of a veil commonly relates to its given function to obscure, protect or hide and conversely, to show, expose or display what is only to be half-seen. The work’s transparency allows the environment to come through, be seen.  In fragments, it frames how and what “pieces” of the surroundings are to be magnified and focused upon, “harvesting” light in such a way that its grid form, shape and scale registers upon the surrounding walls and floor as reflections and shadows in a language of chiaroscuro. In this sense, Bloodline of Peace 2015 conceptually hovers between a sculpture and / or an ephemeral painting - at once transparent yet concealing, obscuring and disclosing, at once two- & three-dimensional. 

The human blood featured between the lenses is freshly sourced and drawn from indiviudals in a highly medicalised “crowd-funded” ritual. As the force of life itself, blood is often shed in violent and aggressive warfare but also freely given to save the lives of complete strangers. In this project, representatives of key communities ranging from the armed forces, medicial & civil defence, the arts as well as the pioneer generation were invited to donate life's most precious gift. It can be described as a collective act of making peace in the context of a wider public performance. The blood drawn for careful collection and display is sealed between lenses as tiny yet conceptually rich and complex symbols of the sacrifice that peace entails, and by implication, its fragility. Life-giving because it is in fact alive, blood is living matter,  teeming with cellular material at the point of extraction and collection. Thus, it can be said that Bloodline of Peace is made of and made with living art material as much as it is both the artwork's subject and content.  As a collection of blood autographs, they formalize the individual donor’s will and public expression rather than that of the artist per se.  This Foucauldian network of micro-heterotopias display and bear open witness to the sealed tension of the blood’s life cycle from freshness (blood red) to expiration (perished red) in real time - the prolongation of a short-lived boundary between a live document and a historical bio-relic. 

The museum itself animates just such a form of heterotopia because of its relationship to real objects in time. Outside the museum in the external world, objects are subjected to the corrosive forces and action of time. Inside the museum, they acquire a new and different status as a result of their perceived uniqueness - the aura of rarity and desirability. Even the most mass produced object becomes a ‘diamond’ within the institution once its copies expire. In the museum’s heterotopic space, objects are caught in a a premature archaeology, enclosed not by layers of mud, sediment or earth but by the very air of the institution that captures them like a butterfly pinned to green felt. Everyday objects within the museum become the signifiers of epochs that stand in for the hands that might have touched or caressed them, its utilitarian use, a beauty in the design,  a reason to possess. 

If the museum is a custodian as its broadest function, Bloodline of Peace 2015 can be likened to a museum without walls - a dynamic grid architecture that has been entrusted with the personal corporeal offerings from individuals whose cellular DNA and peace message occupy the tiniest almost airless space (between lenses) in a land-scarce city-state. It is radical for an artwork to be stored and conserved over time where upon each future release into communities, it can be re-enlivened with freshly crowd-funded blood at new locations to re-engage that public. However cliched it may sound, each personalized encounter is where change and shift is often  seeded. 

Bloodline of Peace 2015 also pays tribute to the Changi Quilts currently held at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra to keep alive the memory of the ingenuity of women prisoners of war. As a patchwork quilt itself, it honours the crafting of one of the most profound series of objects to be hand made by women prisoners in a confined political space. Conceptualized by Mrs Ethal Mulvany, these fabric quilts were sewn by women interned in Changi Prison by the Japanese during the fall of Singapore on 15th February 1942. In this event, quilt-making was much more than a way to boost morale and relieve boredom. With the scantiest of resources and without violence, these women kept their loved ones in other camps psychological alive by smuggling secret messages in plain sight - visibly sewn onto the quilt patches! 

The lens material have a provenance of use for producing scintillation and magnification in this artist’s work from as early as 1997 for the installation “Third World Extra Virgin Dreams” which was shown at the 6th Havana Biennial. More recently, it was used to construct a mural-scale portrait of a fictional national family as part of the artist’s solo show “Imprint: New Works by Suzann Victor” at STPI, Singapore. 

The artist is grateful to the following for their valuable contribution to the Peace Quilt Project:

Curator: Joyce Toh | Project Medical Advisor:  Dr John Chia | Head Technicians: Martin Kirkwood & Ambrose Victor, Assistants: Tan Wei Luen, Melissa Wong, Stellah Lim and Jenny Edgar | Head/Exhibitions: Heleston Chew | Head/Lighting: Derrick Yam | Lead Installers: Jumari Sanion & Roslee M. Noor | Key Community Blood Donors: Stephen Toh (Pioneer Generation), Dr John Chia (Medical), Ambrose Victor (Military), Louis Ho (Art), Stellah Lim (Artist/Education), Brian Pang (VC Industry), Tan Wei Luen (Graduate), Joyce Toh (Arts), Matthew Yeo (Industry, Engineering), Suzann Victor (Artist) | Video Documentation by Arron Teo Art//Photography

We Cloud installation 2

WE CLOUD 2015, IMPRINT: New Works by Suzann Victor, Singapore Tyler Print Institute  

We Cloud 2015 was one of five series of works produced during the artist’s residency at STPI that aimed to create innovative applications for traditional printmaking techniques. In the series We Cloud, Immaculate Conception and Blue Droplets, the artist reversed the function of paper from being the conventional receiving surface (ground) for drawing or mark-making into the very medium with which to produce the content / subject itself (figure). Here, paper pulp becomes the pigment (medium) itself for “painting” clouds (figure) onto round discs of various sizes.  Spoonful by spoonful, liquid paper pulp is poured onto hundreds of clear acrylic discs in organic compositions that are left to cure and dry. These are in turn slotted in configurations that form modular units of various sizes to form a basic “alphabet” that can be archtecturally re-configured again and again in response to any given shape or volume of space.

RAINBOW CIRCLE 2013 induces the meteorological phenomenon of rainbows to appear within an enclosed architecture instead of the open landscape where they commonly occur.  Hosted within the National Museum of Singapore’s rotunda, the same resources of sunlight and water droplets that create rainbows in nature are used in conjunction with a modified heliostat to “manifest” double rainbows. In housing or hosting the work, the Museum re-contextualises these double rainbows within the aura of history and natural history, thus allowing it to be read as part of an array of rare, unique or extinct artefacts that have been assigned to its care, conservation, study and display. A visual orchestra of circular forms echoes throughout the Rotunda's colonial architecture, from impressive arches that crescendo into a dome with stained glass panels. It is here that a screen of millions of water droplets split sunlight redirected by the heliostat outside into ethereal rainbow colours. As with rainbows in nature, each viewing position shows up a different rainbow profile from the ground floor as well as two of the first floor balconies of the Rotunda.    By staging the present as a possible future where rainbows may become scarce (or worse, a non-occurrence), Rainbow Circle 2013 seeks to contribute to the environmental discourse by serving as a form of fictional nostalgia before its time (of possible extinction). 

As a chain of constructs, scientific theories separate the effects of nature through classification, while to convey the sublime, nature conjures beauty by defying these very discrete man-made boundaries. The rainbow can thus be described as the intersection astronomy, hydrology, biology and optics. Current literature acknowledges the complexity and challenges associated with inducing natural rainbows on a large scale. Rainbow Circle's application of a heliostat to track and redirect sunlight into the rotunda to create rainbows inside a man-made building is unprecedented and unique. 

As an artefact of human vision, Rainbow Circle 2013 can be described as objectless artwork. Like rainbows in nature, it is non-physical since it is in fact a perceptual experience where the act of seeing is the very act of creating one's own rainbow. At the same time, the rainbow appears to “change” in appearance since the it presents differently not only to each viewer in their chosen viewing position at any one time, but also as that viewer’s point of vision (position) changes. Unattached to any fixed point of origin or location, the rainbow in the landscape shifts in the sky as the viewer moves location. Similarly Rainbow Circle appears as arcs or semi-circular bows within the Museum buidling, hanging freely in space even as the viewing position changes within the multi-level rotunda, thus becoming an artwork that is indeterminable because of this very immateriality. 

Being non-physical, the rainbow (in this artwork or in nature) cannot be approached, neither is it traceable to a point in space nor locatable at a definable distance. Hence, two persons observing the work at the same time at different locations in the space will differ in their perception of where it is. For example, viewing in the Rotunda at ground level would manifest a different rainbow than from the side arches, or for that matter, on the upper balconies. In this sense, it is a profoundly individualistic experience.

National Museum Contours red dragon1

CONTOURS OF A RICH MANOEUVRE 2006 accentuates the way the unique “double” architecture of the National Museum of Singapore can be experienced. Suspended above the bridge linking the two divergent halves that constitute Singapore’s ‘born-again’ museum, a row of red chandeliers swing like pendulums to perform ephemeral drawings rendered with light. As a kinetic work, Contours of a Rich Manoeuvre marks out a dramatic mid-air calligraphy that synchs, alternates or changes by way of the physics of differentiated time signatures, each morphing into another over fifteen minute cycles.                                                                                                                                      

The bridge over which the artwork performs channels the flow of visitors not only within the museum as a unified entity, but also between its two architectural halves. Its open ended nature serves as both entrance and exit points, bridging both the conceptual and physical, the old and the contemporary - a crucial point of transition between multiple histories (contained in the colonial front), the present and imagined futures (the glass wing’s evolving focus). At the same time, whilst it is a site for art, the bridge also metaphorically and literally spans the divide between a ninetieth century building and the contemporary new wing completed in 2006, a colonizers’ blueprint realized in the coupling of an original architecture with the new hyper architecture of the 21st century, a place/space where the audience visually consume different “archives of epochs, forms and tastes, a place of all times that is itself outside of time and inaccessible to its ravages.”[1]

Contours of a Rich Manoeuvre (2006) metronomically slices through this same air of the institution to mark the moments that pass into historical time, museum time. In so doing, the work re-engages the viewer with the present - the fact of time. Each red chandelier pendulum begins its journey moments before or after its neighbor in a coherent performance as one body-machine, gradually swaying from a motionless start to an amplitude of thirty degrees. In so doing, they exceed the boundaries of their given point in space such that their place of belonging is no longer anything but a point in their movement. These twelve sets of time signatures transcribes time into a visual form using a western signifier to perform an Asian iconography eg a red dragon swaying in mid-air. The foreshortened perspective being the primary viewing position allows the science of vision to take over where the mind’s eye “fill” the gaps to see form in motion. In this way, the series also recast the Renaissance lesson in perspective, offering viewers a single comprehensible viewpoint within the architecture to see the work. It also references the genre of join-the-dots pictures as well as “an instant Picasso” (as captured by Gjon Milin) in which the artist rendered a centaur in the air using a flashlight at Madoura Pottery in France.                                                                                                       *Contours of a Rich Manoeuvre 2006 is a permanent public kinetic artwork commissioned by the National Museum of Singapore for its reopening on 2 December 2006 officiated by former President of Singapore Mr S R Nathan and Minister for Information, Communication and the Arts Mr Lee Boon Yan on 2 December 2006.

art stage screen shot-1
art stage screen grab 5
art stage grab 4

Inscribed in space and depicted by light, Contours of a Rich Manouevre 2008 hangs in the quadruple volume of air space above Indigenous artist Judy Watson's Koori Floor, a work that self-consciously and aesthetically dominates the Casula’s Turbine Hall, targeting by inversion the European colonisation of every Other space in Australia. The unanchored nature of the work acknowledges Watson’s floor as a powerful inescapable political checkpoint for the flow of visitors or artworks that temporarily dwell within the building - a symbolic affirmation that the ultimate and rightful ownership of land by Indigenous Australians is not the past but very much the present and future. Commenting on the work’s physiological impact on the viewer, Curator Brianna Munting observes that “[t]he body sways as you are watching it,” a sentiment shared by Jose Tay of the National Museum but posed as a question, “What is moving, Suzann, is it the artwork, the building, or me?” These unsolicited comments describe the work’s ability to induce a counter-performance from the viewer whose eyes and body involuntarily mimic the continuous left to right sway of the chandeliers, and which plots the experience of the bodily precariousness in looking. The sinuous movement of the Red Dragon mirrored as a shimmering reflection in Watson’s polished floor surface prompted Indigenous artist Gordon Hookey exclaim that “[t]he Rainbow Serpent had been woken![1]”. In averting the gaze of the spectator from its location in the ceiling back onto an emblematic piece of Aboriginal land, Hookey, through an act of narrativizing, doubled the work's reading into the Rainbow Serpent of Aboriginal mythology. While the movement of Contours of a Rich Manouevre 2006 became stains that virally contaminated the architecture and the spectacle of theNational Museum in Singapore at night (multiple reflections in the ceiling and glass walls), Contours of a Rich Manouevre 2008 at Casula Powerhouse submitted to the indigenizing gaze of Aboriginality in the Koori Floor.

Adelaide Contours side

Contours of a Rich Manoeuvre (Gwangju Biennale 2006) & (Adelaide Biennale 2008) evolved out of the series Dusted By Rich Manoeuvre 2000 & 2001 which was  respectively shown at multiple venues in Europe and Asia under the auspices of the exhibitions Text & Subtext (2008) and the 49th Venice Biennale. At the Gwangju and Adelaide biennales, the artwork challenges its own stake in the politics of display and visibility by withdrawing the seamless narrative from view. Four hundred acrylic tubes filled with water and suspended in a rectangular configuration surround two red chandeliers that swing and crisscross along a four-metre trajectory in three-minute cycles. From the outside, the linear gaps between each tube create a lenticular effect of a highly disjointed narrative of the kinetic movement within. The water held in each acrylic tube act like lenses that magnify the flame-like movements seen through the water-lens while the shadows cast upon the surrounding walls and floor twist and turn in tandem with the swinging within.  

Dusted By Rich Manoeuvre flying

Dusted by Rich Manoeuvre 2001 features a poor person’s chandelier that appeared as "a construct already collided into and smashed up in the past, now a stately reconstruction from the pieces"[1]. Abject and laden with pendants crafted out of smashed crystalware, yet a born-again beauty. It stands motionless as four red chandeliers swing perilously into the spaces between its arms from different directions, rhythmically pacing the viewer's psychic response to an impending but ever-deferred chaos and collision. Re-engineered wind-shield wiper motors from wrecked cars are transformed into the mechanical drivers that swing them into motion, using potential, stored and dispensed energy.

Sited at Schola di Santa Apollonia, a four-hundred year old chapel next to San Marco Square, the Singapore Pavilion became part of the bi-annual staging of the whole city of Venice as the embodiment of Foucault’s heterotopic space of the museum where history, architecture, opulence and renaissance culture are staged side by side with the contemporary. Having evolved from a sign for wealth and power in the West into a sign of the West, the chandelier retains a ubiquitous presence in many parts of Asia. Like an act of irony investing in its own loss, its continued fetishization suggests that the colonial past is as much a fetish for the colonised as it is for its colonisers. Dusted By Rich Manoeuvre 2001 can be read as an Asian woman artist’s act of ironical misrecognition of quality and taste as she ‘reverently’ copies her colonial masters. The work presents the paranoiac trajectories to possible self-annihilation performed by four red chandeliers swinging just short of smashing into a much larger motionless one in the centre, a discordant yet menacing note of contrast to the historicity and opulence of its surroundings. During its outswing into the viewer’s space, the chandeliers build up a looming violence that was paced for re-enactment again and again without the need for a climatic end. The smashed glass ornaments and their subsequent re-aestheticization into chandelier pendants accentuate this, yet its materiality bare a past violence that is set within a spatial symmetry – one that is also a device to complete the ruse, to lull the viewer into entering a 'stable' space – threatening yet seductive, attractive yet repelling - violence as anticipation.

[1] Dr Susie Lingham, Oxford Dictionary of Art Grove Art Online Entry – Suzann Victor 2005

His Mother is a Theatre installation

His Mother Is A Theatre 1994 was compelled into form as a reply to the Singapore state's defacto ban on performance art in the 1990s when scripts became a mandatory licensing requirement by the police. Conceptualized as a mis-take of this new law, His Mother Is A Theatre 1994 submits itself as just such a script to re-claim the censured body of performance. As a visual quotation, the work re-inserts the absent body back into public display in the form of a vertigo of concentric rings of words written with human hair. Laid out on the floor, it explicitly names parts of the female body in all its inner and outer nudity. Overhead, two seamlessly joined black garments rise in confrontation on opposing walls, draped over a table with disembowelled bread loaves that glow with the aroma of toast emitting from the heat of lit bulbs within. Above, a baby rocker raises and lowers the lids of small woks to create a cacophony of clanging sounds. 

His Mother Is A Theatre 1994 reeks of the body even as that body is absent; its purpose is not so much to institute a normality of the tabooed body through re-inscription into public space as much as to restore the body’s legitimate presence, using hair as a key component for its disembodied performance. At this textual but virtual site where the body is conjured via a collage of hair text, its literal and figurative reading induces a counter-performance by the audience whereby he or she is also inaugurated as the image-maker instead of the artist. By invoking the body as a fragmented message performing a disjointed body, without boundaries, spilled, splayed, an open interior, an armour laid bare on the floor, the work seeks to question the way the state strives to make art objects become a ‘safe’ way to ‘capture’ and own the body and its performance, and over which it imposes a kind of likeness so as to control its “reproduction.”

* This line of inquiry in the artist’s practice began with averting the gaze of the public from institutionalised spaces towards ‘unofficial’ ones. Through personal negotiation with a corporate entity, Parkway Holdings, a two-year rent-free lease was secured for the set up of an alternative non-profit art space at its shopping centre premises, later named 5th Passage – Singapore’s first corporate-sponsored artist-run space. That it was an in-between space and the very architectural manifestation of the abject – a passageway (between the car park and the office block) was not an impediment to the artist and invited co-founders, artist writer Susie Lingham and ceramicist Han Ling. It was one of only a few non-commodified areas in the complex that was of little commercial value except for its utilitarian function. Through combined personal funds, this was transformed into a passageway to the art of Other/s. The public government condemnation, legal defence processes in the high courts, as well as the expulsion of artist Josef Ng and 5th Passage from cultural participation in the visual arts on the grounds of alleged “obscenity” culminated in a critical social rupture in the art history of Singapore. Its personal impact notwithstanding marks a defining moment in shaping the artist’s practice.  


Havana Biennale Extra Virgin Dreams

Third World Extra Virgin Dreams 1997                                                                                                                                   

Caught In a limbo of sleepless dreaming, a ten-metre glass quilt descends from an ascending bed, scintillating in the sunlight streaming in from the vault's skylight within the Cabania Fortress in Havana, Cuba. Comprising three-thousand glass slides, each displayed a drop of blood sealed behind a Fresnel lens – a mixture from the combined quantities taken from the artist and Victor Miguel, the only voluntary blood donor from the Cuban family hosting the artist for the 6th Havana Biennale.

Found in the historic Cabania Fortress, the metal bed was chosen because of the way such an everyday object is “imprinted” with the human form and marked by its corporeality. As a literal and metaphorical site of both beginnings and endings, the bed hosts the rituals of sex and sleep, rest and restlessness. birthing and death, solid and physical, yet vulnerable and abstract, a place / space where dreams and nightmares take hold. Our sentient bodies imbue the bed (and the quilt) with our bodily confessions, seepages that emanate from our interiority that silently attest to the body’s performance of desire and woundability. 

Suspended in mid air, the bed could be read as either levitating towards or falling through a hole that obviously could not fit it, thus allowing for another narrative – an invasion of the architecture by the bed or an expulsion of the bed by the architecture through its orifice – the skylight. As a historic fortress, its architecture allowed an ambiguity that shifted between a performance of “escape” / “invasion” or “intrusion” / “expulsion”, its transparency holding a tension between the states of fragility and strength, appearance and disappearance, heightened further by the Fortress as an implicit display of impregnability and power, while signaling also its irrelevance in the contemporary world - hence its reconfigured status as an open location for art.

NZ Expense side 2

Expense of Spirit in a Waste of Shame can be described as a sound emitting kinetic installation that evolved from a single unit (5th Passage@Pacific Plaza 1994) to five units over the years as it toured multiple venues in Europe and Asia (1994, 2002, 2004, 2005, 2008, 2012). Originally part of a series of performative-installations (Shit-Eating Grins & His Mother is a Theatre 1994), it was created as a response to what became a decade-long imposition of prohibitive procedures on performance art practice in Singapore as well as 5th Passage’s then recent state of “homelessness” after eviction from Parkway Parade. Staged in empty shop lots at Pacific Plaza over a one-year period, the work presents the absent body in a reductive and isolating corporeal performance of auto-erotic ‘pleasure’, incorporating the spring motion of baby rockers. With each slippery contact between the round glass bottoms of light bulbs and the flat plane of the mirror’s surface, a repetitive cacophany of fragile clinks is made. As mirroring spies on itself, the work captures the paranoiac moment of such an act under the gaze of paternal law. Light, a signifer of knowledge, and the mirror, a utopian perfection of mimetic representation, turns back on itself in a jittery installation of desire and unfulfillable lack. If these everyday objects mimic the performance of auto-erotic stimulation in the utopian mirror, who is pleasuring what? Who is looking and who is being looked at? Is it the Real that rubs the Image in the mirror or the Image rubbing the Real? In its public display of mechanistic onanism, tension is already dissipated. I am caught seeing myself being seen.


A Rolling Stone Gathes No Moss is concceptualised as a performance in response to artist Alan Dunn's invitation to engage with his work “Strike” during the Cyfuniad International Artist Residency Plas Caerdeon in Snowdonia, Wales. The  artist chose to use her body as a weapon to "roll over” Dunn's installation of delicate miniature buildings installed on a moss hill behind the residence. A bedsheet found on the premises was used to create a makeshift garment while the remaining remnant was turned into a blindfold during the performance.

© Suzann Victor 2018