Week 149 – May 23 to May 30

Kyung-hwa Choi-ahoi

Diary Drawing _ No. 8479_ May 2th, 2022
Diary Drawing _ No. 8479_ May 2th, 2022, Size: 21 x 29,7cm, oil on paper.

When a first day of the week comes: 
A headscarf will give birth to an anaconda whose name is Monday. She will bring woman and freedom”

Manuela Morgaine

GHOSTING – I met a Ghost, I’m still haunted by the Ghost.

The practice of ending a personal relationship with someone by suddenly and without explanation withdrawing from all communication.

A form of psychological violence that consists of disappearing overnight, ignoring someone, not responding, without giving any explanation.

Kasia Ozga

Green Graffiti, Ohio, May 2023.

I am obsessed with the texture of tree bark in the wild. Nooks, crags, and crannies constantly beckon the lens of my camera as I lag behind my family of hikers, documenting every strange shape that catches my eye. I am fascinated by the impulse to mark-making on a living thing. Yesterday, I came upon row upon row of vandalized trees in a State Forest.

The idea of tattooing a person against their will evokes images of slavery and genocide but maybe my metaphor means I am too shocked-sensitive to violence. The ritual scarification of nature is benign for many people. Cutting through cork is a form of proof: a testament of love from Robin Hood to Maid Marian, a memory engraved in a blackboard that will outgrow your body, a permanent way to state ‘I was here.”

Liza Dimbleby

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Totem and Taboo (II), paint on paper, May 2023

Letter from Glasgow: Written on birch

Birch trees seem to like railways, you travel through them as you enter Glasgow, and Berlin and then east to Moscow and Siberia. An endless shuttering of birch trunks through the train window, their verticals marking the space. It isn’t monotonous, it is even reassuring. They accompany my journeys, anticipated and remembered. I look them in the eye.

Recently these tree trunks have begun to people my paintings and drawing. They sit about a dining table. A felled tree between them like a family secret, or a dead man laid out. What do they do with something that is part of them?

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Anne Dubos

« Ma main sur ton dos », Benoît Travers pour ‘Les Archives du Care », Studio Woffenden-Boontje, Bourg Argental, Mai 2023.

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