writings
texts in this section are various forms of art writing
either published elsewhere previously, or written especially for this section
Whole Lot.
The paintings fill the space. They affect me the same way living beings do. My Country, Emily Kam Kngwarray’s exhibition at PACE London is simply beautiful. Experiencing it feels like a sensory act of learning, an invitation to be with.
Conceived in collaboration with D’Lan Contemporary and sensitive support from D’Lan’s Head of Research, Vanessa Merlino, to coincide with Kngwarray’s retrospective at Tate Modern, it is a timely and thoughtful show, lovingly putting together a selection of works representative of the artist’s extraordinary practice.
While the main gallery presents paintings on canvas, the lower ground contains selection of batiks, medium of Kngwarray’s choice before her move to painting, and a medium which informed her assured technique later on.
Of Ghosts and Spectres
There are scores of photographs. Collected over the years. Picked at flea markets, spotted on ebay, found, bought or obtained. Black and white, posed, following certain aesthetics. Commemorating moments in life, family entanglements, passages and achievements. Commemorating those departed. Exhibited in the family home. To remember. To recall.
Discarded. Left behind. Orphaned. With no memory, no ties, no reference.
No family, no friends, no relationships.
Grainy images barely discernible under a saturated layer of colour. Our eye searches for the outlines. Looking for the details. Fine lines creating a face. For a presence. To emerge from. To be recognised. Resurfacing through the paint. Hidden below. Manifesting. Repetition of becoming.
Raed Yassin’s “Eternal Ghost” at Cedric Bardawil
Images courtesy of Raed Yassin and Cedric Bardawil, Photographer: Peter Otto, 2025
Hora Lupi. Edith Karlson.
The sense of falling. All around. The feeling I experience whenever I reflect on the collapse of the world I live in. The XVIII-century church is falling into pieces, half abandoned restoration works reminding us that not every place in Venice gets the same attention. There has been said a lot about it being a perfect setting for the work with the evocative beauty of ongoing disintegration, but it is easy to forget that this is not a gallery, that Venice is a real city with its inhabitants, that this is a working church with parishioners, that there are residents in the complex.
