Thursday, May 17, 2012
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
new work
my child, my child - collage on paper, 2012
Due to it's sheer tininess I've decided not to put this piece in the upcoming show - the image in this bad boy measures approx 3 x 4 cm despite being on a rather hefty piece of paper (around 20 x 20 cm. I just made that up. I'm not sure how big it is, but I reckon that's a good estimate).
Monday, May 14, 2012
after the end
Dear friends,
I cordially invite you to attend my upcoming solo show at anna pappas gallery, which opens 30 May, at 6.30 pm. This show is the amalgamation of many moons of serious cutting and pasting, and I'm super excited to have it brought together for this show. Help me get folks spilling out onto the street and join me for a glass of something awesome, would love to see you there!
xxx
lucy
A parallel universe where what comes after now is the beginning of the past. An alternate reality in which a ghostly and fractured sequence of time leads to cul de sacs where children play eternally. A ruptured linear flow of objects repeat, mutate and accumulate across vast open plateaus of white void. Where creaking growth, like hands dragged across balloons, sets a melody against the marching beat of distant footsteps. Cogs rain down as flowers fly up to meet them. The gardening, the growing - the pruning and the tuning. All just beginning, even after it is finished.
I cordially invite you to attend my upcoming solo show at anna pappas gallery, which opens 30 May, at 6.30 pm. This show is the amalgamation of many moons of serious cutting and pasting, and I'm super excited to have it brought together for this show. Help me get folks spilling out onto the street and join me for a glass of something awesome, would love to see you there!
xxx
lucy
bird girl flappin' and squawkin', 2011, collage on paper, 32 x 42 cm
A parallel universe where what comes after now is the beginning of the past. An alternate reality in which a ghostly and fractured sequence of time leads to cul de sacs where children play eternally. A ruptured linear flow of objects repeat, mutate and accumulate across vast open plateaus of white void. Where creaking growth, like hands dragged across balloons, sets a melody against the marching beat of distant footsteps. Cogs rain down as flowers fly up to meet them. The gardening, the growing - the pruning and the tuning. All just beginning, even after it is finished.
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