Zoe Catherine Kendall, artist, writer and human...

Monday, 30 August 2010


Photographs taken at key moments, images as momentos of life as it occurs. Somehow these minature tokens have the ability to glorify a past event, and even to remove it from all context. Are they memories or has a transformation already occured?


Friday, 13 August 2010

a stream of my consciousness on a particular day...

one two three four i am more aware of the need to think or rather to produce work - something palpable, something presentable, a tangible recording, definition of, summary, study of all the things i am experiencing, life, life life life life life life life life life life life - coming at me, me coming at it, my fragment of perspective on slices of all the things that are happening to me, to everyone, what has already happened, what i can learn from the past, what i am learning in the present, what meaning i can extract from all time and space, all relationships between all things, people object and place, sense, experience, a closed fist in the mind, see it opening out, what there is to share, how well i can share it, my part in a shared consciousness, coexisting in a relational field to all other things, shreds of knowledge, scraps from a gigantic disappearing book, disperate understanding, enlightment coming in to focus and out again, seeing details and then a whole, a fragmented mind, torturous episodes of a mental spasm, the brain storms in on itself, input input input ahhhhhhhhhh...... i don't know i don't know i don't know i know i am unsure, uncertain bewildered, between, states of transition, attempts to understand more, to be more, to be, just to be and to relax, something impossible until one is at harmony with oneself, i want to dispose of all of the clutter, no more toxins, flushing myself out, reclaiming wasted spaces, waste occupying my spaces, spaces i want for other things, new ventures, more time to invest in projects of my own, more energy, more interaction, greater study, a richer learning curve.


Last night i vomited you up

I feel sick. I wanted to get over you so I slept with someone else, and now I feel sick.

Except now I don’t feel sick. Last night I vomited you up, last night and the night before. Now I feel refreshed, I have cleared the dead weight in my throat, I have transcended it. You have passed through me like a storm; you have died down now that we are no more.

We are no more; we are travellers in alternate universes. The sky tonight is very black, I think of your heart when I look at it. My heart is open like an accessible book, there is much to read between the lines, but I am here to help, I will narrate.

You are a ghost, an impression at most. You hair was dirty blond; your head was dirty too. I am an existent, existing in this time frame, present in the current mud, wearing boots, stepping in.

There are fools around these wilder woods, I am the trap that snares them in. There are no men, new man and wolves to be seen. We are dancing around the fire, fooling about like nobody’s children, we are warriors of various means, thieves and liars and lovers between. This is us, this is the dream, thankfully shedding the robe of what has been.

Wry fully wondering, silently wandering, we are the waste land and we are the steam. You are the fuel of the fires un keen, I am the richer for leaving you unseen.

Thursday, 5 August 2010


(Above: Our unattended throne, July 2009 @ Dalston Mill)

First it was you who
gathering up and retreating
cowardly jumped ship without me
and now i, abandoning my belief
have begun to slowly suffocate
the memory of us then
burying love in a shameful grave
so that i can see clearly how
we are non attenders now
of a non alliance here
not attending with utmost care
every meticulosity, we
undoing previous action
have religiously choosen separately
something other than what we were doing
when we were in attendance
to some choice past
that we have undone
and having done that
will not know
what of each other
we shall become