Zoë via..?

Illustrations from Fragments of a Storm Suspended in Time

2012-02-22T19:40:00.000Z

Back in 2011 Artist Collective and Independant Publisher Lazy Gramophone asked me to contribute to their TIME project by writing a short story and illustrating it. The resulting book will be published by Lazy later this year and comprises stories from a pick of writers including Sam Rawlings, William Conway, Tom Hirons and myself, spanning in its theme three generations from childhood to adolescence and adulthood to old age. Each story will be illustrated. As I am both a writer and an artist I was asked if I would illustrate my short story Fragments of a Storm Suspended in Time. Here are my finished felt tip illustrations and a preview excerpt from the story which Jotta published earlier this year.

How I Move Through My Days

2012-02-17T13:54:00.002Z

A sculptural book and installation piece I exhibited at Serpentine Gallery's Centre for Possible Studies back in January as part of Imprint by Fabelist. Check the digital portfolio for close ups of the book and the installation, and below for the blurb!

Open publication - Free publishing - More art

'Life experiences imprint themselves on me day after day. Living patterns repeat themselves in a perpetual cycle. I collect memories as I go, reflecting on and contributing to these daily, monthly and yearly rhythms. Here, the mundane coalesces with the extraordinary and recollections blur into a dense internal narrative. I leave a foot print behind too, producing and discarding a considerable amount of detritus. Tesco receipts and appointment slips amass in the waste paper basket. Other more significant mementos remind me of difficult junctures and good times. The debris gathers as evidence of my living which I have been stock piling over the years.

For the Imprint project I began re-tracing my steps through unearthed letters, scribbled thoughts, sweet wrappers, to-do lists and medication packets. A picture began to emerge. Both personal and universal, the memorabilia chronicles a journey taken by all. My paper trail spoke to me of events, emotions and challenges which are experienced by most people at some point in their lives. The resulting story is not only autobiographical but societal and human.

I decided to make monuments of these often discarded remnants of daily life, painting a portrait of my life and of life today. A book format allowed for the detritus to be read, retained and reflected upon. Themes such as endurance, emotional upheaval, consumerism, health, romance and rituals like birthdays and personal preening arise. A current runs through the resulting work, a sense of continuity and rhythm. The tides of fortune and misfortune ebb and flow with as much regularity as the more mundane elements of life. The form and illustrations compound my reflections with nature. The sea acts as a metaphor for this life cycle and the circular, oscillating pages when upright take on the shape and glow of a radiant sun, overseeing the annular journey and holding it within the book. These souvenirs, this archive, tells our story.

Accompanying this work is a twenty line story poem, one line for every page of the book. The poem starts at the last significant moment and ends at the beginning again. We keep spinning around and around this story which has no start or finish whilst the poem continuously repeats.'

Story Poem

until, I don’t know what to do with my memories, where to house them, how to see them.

I tunnel, dive, duck and cover, swooping under and leaping over life’s little hurdles.

But life is a large hurdle, in the way of..?

I am journeying, often a lone navigator at the only helm I know, directing, leading the way through.

I will find things and places, destinations long since assigned like death and danger!

There are others on this journey too, sometimes we travel together, sometimes closer

we weave, wander, wallow, stop?

No – do not stop, you can never stop, even if you try, try so very hard…

I speak to myself, here can be lonely, oh so very lonely, wherever it is that I am today.

Sounds like heaven and hell converging, coming from without: bangs, whispers, weeping

and from inside a song, my words strummed to a heartbeat rhythm, my thoughts humming

percussion, street lights, buzz, drum, colour, light, laughter, cries…

Perpetual motion, new stories and renewed challenges

A stormy sea overwhelming and great wisps of hair, thick and untamed, blowing

harmonies, paintings, shadows and revelations, such excitement!

Great bellowing fits of eagerness rising from within: I must, I will, I can, I know..

And what of you, will you join me? Can we climb each other’s sails?

Slide together from above, playing games like love

and fooling about until I fall and you land on top of me

Both of us at once ceasing and finding a new way onward…

(and back to the start)

until, I don’t know what to do with my memories, where to house them, how to see them.

I tunnel, dive, duck and cover, swooping under and leaping over life’s little hurdles…

It was really exciting and satisfying to have an opportunity arise in which I could put to use my collected detritus. I had been collecting this stuff for a while, knowing that I wanted to do something with and not knowing quite what, and now, here it is. Thanks Fabelist!

The artwork is comprised entirely of collected detritus, PVA glue, acrylic paint and words.

My Latest Book Art, Writing and Illustration Projects

2011-06-23T21:29:00.002+01:00

The first book featured is a commission - i was asked to design, make and illustrate a book around a children's story. Words by Sarah Ives Taylor, Book Design and Illustrations by Zoe Catherine Kendall.

The Second book is a hand bound journal which comprises authentic diary entries, diary drawings, notes, poems, photographs, emails and paraphernalia from a really significant and facilitating moment in my life, which i decided to exhibit as part of an art exhibition encouraging it's audience to cross the threshold of public into private realms. Read more about the exhibition here. Slideshow below.

Open publication - Free publishing - More art

Portfolios: Illustration, Painting, Playing Cards, T-Shirts and Word Art.

2011-06-23T20:26:00.001+01:00

A presentation of core sets of work from 2010 and 2011

Open publication - Free publishing - More art

Open publication - Free publishing - More acrylic

Open publication - Free publishing - More art

Private Spaces at Zoe's Place

2011-05-16T23:36:00.006+01:00

We just hosted the first public exhibition at Zoe's Place - a private home turned gallery in London E1 - in partnership with Underbelly London.

We invited you to cross the threshold of public into private realms, in every sense, entering into the esoteric worlds of 7 of London’s top emerging artists.

Each artist was chosen for their uniquely personal take on the theme, with works by Adeline de Monseignat, Waldemar Pranckiewicz, Christian Nyampeta, Nic Shonfield, Gedvile Bunikyte, Suzie Blake and Zoe Catherine Kendall. The show exhibited a spectrum of approaches ranging from photography to video art, painting to momento making and word.

Dazed and Confused gave us a lovely write up. It was a great success. Here are a few photographs..

You are invited to cross the threshold into private realms..

2011-04-08T21:20:00.003+01:00

Opens wednesday 13th April at Zoe's Place - a private home turned gallery in London E1 - in association with underbelly london ... check the facebook event for more details.. see you there...

Art Taro Cards

2011-04-08T21:12:00.001+01:00

Use these cards to tell a story, make up a meaning or play a game.

All illustrations by Zoe Catherine Kendall

I was in a black mood...

2011-03-20T12:29:00.001Z

This is an experimental body of work still in progress. I am exploring my moods once weekly and have been doing so far the last month, using oil paints, gestural mark making techniques and diary style word pieces.

The work began as a kind of personal therapy. I had received some very scary test results from a routine NHS screening test, this news coupled with a sense of grappling with a particularly unsettling relationship, and all from quite an isolating position - living alone. I became accutely aware of what felt like dark moods developing in my mind, but was equally aware of my ability to perseverve through these as one might perseverve through a difficult meditation session. I was reassured by a feeling that time would persist, i would continue and the moods would change, and that underneath it all there was a kind of peace. I decided to explore these ideas, manipulating the oil paint by pushing it around with movements of the brush, some slow and considered, others manic and energetic. I was directly translating the states in my mind onto clean white canvas rectangles, 4 a week, and revisiting these week after week to see how the moods had changed. Almost 5 weeks in, despite an awareness of potentials stressors, i feel strangely calm.

Red might be painful and angry, blue is touched with sadness, white is clean, bright, neutral.. and black, black stands for that place no man or women is comfortable with. It's been interesting to see how emotions and states of mind shift and progress.

London underbelly interview me...

2011-03-14T19:24:00.001Z

Click here to go to interview

At the station, on the train

2011-03-11T01:14:00.001Z

A beautiful weekend at the Barbican

2011-03-11T00:07:00.000Z

Photos from The Floor of the Forest and Rummage Sale:

T-shirt design

2011-03-07T01:12:00.000Z

The brief was simply breasts. I wanted the work to be about relationships, power struggles and the female experience. Bondage seemed like a suitable way of expressing this complex dynamic.The resulting work was a gift from wife to husbund for Valentine's Day.

Barbican Art Gallery 5th-6th March 2011

2011-02-27T21:41:00.001Z

As part of their upcoming exhibition program Laurie Anderson, Trisha Brown, Gordon Matta-Clark
Pioneers of the Downtown Scene, New York 1970s, Barbican Art Gallery present Rummage Sale and Floor of the Forest next Saturday 5th - Sunday 6th March as part of the Barbican Weekender.

I have created a limited edition series of 6 pieces entitled 'My emotions are my wardrobe' especially for the Rummage Sale. Each piece began its journey in the project as a charity shop find or a friendly donation. I hand picked a collection of unisex jackets, shirts and t-shirts with the idea that they could be worn and styled by pretty much anyone and would look good effortlessly. The pieces make up an illustrated story through the emotive hand painted designs that they bear. Each item is for sale.

His blood, sweat and tears

She wept and from her eyes poured an illustrated story


Detail

Detail

An emotional graphic

His tears of frustration

The leaking eye of awareness

Zoe's Place Podcast

2011-02-17T16:09:00.001Z

A sounds recording of one of our group art salons mixed with some photographs of the events held at Zoe's Place in December 2010, hosted by Gedvile Bunikyte and Zoe Catherine Kendall.

Zoe's Place had a successful launch in 2010, with a subversive mix of some of london's best emerging creative talent coming together for a secret un-birthday themed event.

Guests on the night and their particapation:

Gedvile Bunikyte - introduction to the proceedings

Zoe Catherine Kendall - self-series film screening

Sohrab Golsorkhi-Ainslie - read passages from two novels on the subject of birthday and party.

Todd Hart - polaroidal zone

Waldemar Prancekiwiez - text and illustration

Babak Jalali - Frontier Blues film screening

Gideon Cube-Sherman - intervention/performance

Christian Nyampeta - short film screening

Natashka Moreau - performance

Olivia Hegarty - a presense and readiness to respond

Victoria Andrejeva - party games

Arvydas Umbrasas - fashion illustrations

Rolled Up Deejays - musical decks

Louise Hanson - birthday cakes

Zoe's Place:

Cautionary Tales...

2011-02-16T18:36:00.000Z

A narrative begins to emerge from a body of imagery. The imagery takes the form of paintings, drawings, words written and spoken, artifacts, even a diary. On first viewing there is a personal voice, on second and third viewing a universal story emerges... Tokens created by an artist and story teller can provide insights into a shared living experience, helping us to understand where we are now and where we are headed.

Consider the use of the words I, we, you, us, them.... somehow they seem to all point to the same end. I represents the holding up of one corner of a larger story. I am holding up my corner of our great cultural flag using images, words and sounds that i have come across in a portion of lifetime. We are all part of a greater story and many of our small interjections on the world will unsurprisingly tell a very similar tale. If we live in the same time, under the same societal restraints with the same kinds of systems ruling our everyday lives, as peers, brothers, sisters, lovers, mothers and fathers and as artists conquering economy of means as much as individuals conquering art as a form of language then we are all responsible for holding up our corner of the flag, a story we must share and learn from. A cautionary tale some might say...

In this body of work, images and words weave together to present worlds of meaning as reconstructions of living experiences and as an ever increasing puddle of personal and cultural memories. The story emerges as an emotional memory. The human emerges as an emotional medium and a knowledge conduit for the outcomes of any given life. These tales provide an environment in which we can grow, teach and learn about ourselves and everybody else. The human story, perhaps. I am holding up my corner...

LOST ARTWORK

2011-01-22T21:06:00.001Z

People of London, i lost a pack of portrait playing cards today (saturday) in PAUL - cafe in South Ken. They have my contact details on the back of each painted card. If you find them and visit my blog because of the links on the cards, please call or email me so we can arrange a reunion. I spent a while working up to and then completing that project. I am saddened by this loss. Please help if you can. I will post pictures.. thanks.

Fragments continued... a book of imagery in word form.

2011-01-08T21:06:00.003Z

This is a little taster of something i am currently working on... call it text, call it image, don't call it anything, just feel it out... it's about living life, riding bikes and broken hearts.

"Got to keep focusing on the road ahead, when the perspective gets hindered, got to re-focus, re-focus... I was so freaking inspired, a pedalling maniac aiming the wheel at visions of art and life. Head down, I was bounding towards oblivion, starved but ready to feed the void with meaning, ready to redefine it.. I thought I could survive on nothing but my energy for this thing, carving out the grit and naming the different salts I found within it... Above all I wanted to keep learning, to keep discovering this life."

"On days spent alone I would dream about alternative ways to live, imagine taking off on my bicycle and careening the lonely streets of this town as though it were a mind. This universal mind I was talking of was a boundless place, nothing off limits, and the more I challenged adopted conventions or concepts of the self, the more I willed this thing into life. If at this stage the mutations of reality existed in thought only, I thought let this be the first place to matter, the mind and its capacity to manifest reality."

"After a night of lavish drinking I found myself in bed with the idea of you again. It can't have been consensual, the image just came flying through the door and into my head. Throw me hard against the wall and rip out my heart as I lie before you. Honey, you are murdering me slowly. Honey, you are the best and worst of me. Honey, be careful... just the thought of you is killing me."

"And now the quest for complete freedom, shirking any notion of a patriarchal system, slipping free of a societal gaze. I used to hear women around me talk of time ticking by, got to catch a man they would say, time is running out... their ideas insulted me. I was an artist and would take a man when I chose, my art my child.. what a gift to the world, if I could just get the commitment right, what a legacy...changes in modes of thought."

Will you marry it?

2011-01-02T12:49:00.000Z

The Applicant by Sylvia Plath

From two heads to tee shirts

2010-12-29T17:12:00.001Z

This was an experiment to be tried out on my trendy younger brother, who also happens to be a deejay, always room for a super cliche. More to come as it worked out pretty well. It's hand painted, and i intend to do a series of hand painted designs. Each illustration comes from a piece of my art work. £48 a pop. Each one will be individual, never repeated, and made especially to order. Wear it, frame it, hang it up next to a cool poster. Get those orders in, mates rates apply ;-) zoe@zoekendall.com

You again...

2010-12-22T21:03:00.000Z

(Above: Don't recall you face today, pen on paper, by Zoe Catherine Kendall, 2010, run-riot.com)

This is a free-form text directed at a universal concept of 'you.' Perhaps each of you have your own such 'you' – a notion of relation to another energy form that you find it more or less difficult to define. On the surface it might be your lover or ex lover, on a deeper level, it could be a more spiritual, parental, playful or otherwise unknown presence.

If we are lucky, there may come a time when we can shirk such limiting bases for relationships, and start afresh...

Oh Dear -

it's you again, haunting the days and nights that have passed since your last appearance. I wonder if I can I write about you? No wait – I should write about letting you go... what a happy thought! I am unsure of how much justice my words will give to such a liberating prospect, but I will persevere.. With a letter and a verse, having already reeled you in, and having reeled myself in too, I will try to explain how I will let you go – splash! What a thought...

All these stories circulating around my head, narratives of life, love and something else. Sitting here, some place like this bed, swamped in my own carefully crafted detachment, I have been silently swallowing my tongue. Well I shall swallow no more...

You - (deep breath in) I don't know who or where (deep breath out), and me here, playing with life. There have been many faces, some more distinctive than others, I will say that. A girl asked 'and what of your experiences of love?' - and I couldn't answer. Love (disbelievingly)? I never thought I’d doubt it, lose the confidence I had in my youthful endeavours...

So I, watching on, see the world passing by. Little interjections define my position in the storm; voices, laughter, tears. You are so many faces, eyes in the back of strangers heads as I navigate these streets around you. But even with a map, your coordinates cannot be pinpointed. It's as though you have become the stuff of legend.

That's okay I think, sitting here musing. Who were you anyway and what did you stand for? I look to my feet, purposeful, ready to jump up and I think - these catalysts of movement, extending up the legs to the hip, these knees, arms, fingers and this chest, these are moving me now, keeping me living regardless of any presence or absence on your behalf..

I without you here.

I, here
without of the realms of you,
you who are not here
not with me,
also without.

We are both without. (text continued below image)

(Above: Sights set on, pen on paper, by Zoe Catherine Kendall, 2010, run-riot.com)

So what of the thoughts occupying a brain? Can they be detached from any kind of emotion? Are these feelings nostalgia for a previous neural pathway? Oh I do long for those old peptides, they used to put a spring in my step. Now I am redefining these pathways, so far no emotions have been set. I am lost in the present, having let go of the past, journeying through the current time.

Consciousness exacerbated, curated and retold; through this process I might come to unite with...?? For conventions sake I hope they are human. I wonder if they will still embody you. You have been following me around for so many years now, I guess I would miss you, though I still can't put my finger on what it is that (pause) you are...

Attached to air and thought all these years, I have been attached to a transient dream. If I choose a temple, you know they say the body is a temple, well I prefer to think of it as a vessel, so if I choose a vessel for you, some place near this bed of mine, somewhere to house your spirit within, well what then?

What's that? You don't want me to leave you behind as I begin on this journey to realign my neural coordinates? You won't exist without me? But I have been chasing you for so long now, and I am tired of these games we play, you cropping up in various guises like Doctor Who, suffering multiple regenerations... and multiple personalities. I don't want to do it to you any more, try and define the undefinable.

You will be a legend (whose impact will be forgotten with time). I will sing to the high hills about you, the unnamed spirit, the celestial man. I will retell the stories of our ethereal palace, a seldom frequented place of expectation met, and expectation unmet. That, I will tell those hills, was the single most defining point of our relationship. We knew how to thrill each other, we knew how to love, and yes, we knew to include the heartache and the loss, as these were the emotions that excited us the most. (Continued below image)

(Above: Happy when you smiled at me, pen on paper, by Zoe Catherine Kendall, 2010, run-riot.com)

I shall tell this story, and with each retelling, it shall loose its significance. And then, overtime, I will finally let you go - poof! Up and away... to meet your fore fathers, those mythical beasts of the patriarch, protagonists of the betrothed, the married, and the illicitly conceived... boy they taught us how not to engage, decreeing the sanctity of ownership over love.

'With this ring I thee wed'. With this ring, let our love be dead!

Oh but no, I am being an awful pessimist, I do wholeheartedly believe that marriage helps the best and worst of us to get through the years, though they be years of loneliness, bitterness and discontent.. dreams fallen by the wayside as we take on our defining roles as husband and wifery.

I don't want to do that to you – the ethereal has always been so much more liberating. And now, after all our transient encounters, and with marriage an all too real prospect, I have gathered the strength to let you go so you may transcend all of those ungodly ties, and as I promised I will loose all my expectations of you, and we will both be free at last... It's an idea I’ve had anyway. Marriage seems such an old school convention, I almost want to reinvent it, with a whole new system of vows, a whole new significance to it.

So now then, can we all finally be happy by ourselves? Wouldn't it be nice. I know there is this little issue of continuing the human race, but isn't that just the burden of our generation?! Gosh, a life time of reproduction and raising doesn’t thrill too much. If only there were another way...

Humour aside, it would be refreshing to see modes of thought change and adapt in reaction to social convention. The potential for this kind of thinking arises when we start asking questions such as why, what for and how best – in relation to concepts of living. Is this the best way to lead my life? Am I making a happy world for my yet unborn offspring? Is there another way to coexist and copulate in harmony? Perhaps the eternal attachment to a thought construct such as 'you' is utterly necessary – and it could only be a life long commitment to that line of enquiry that might fathom any kind of answer. A quest for each and every one of us perhaps-

On that note, thank goodness for these moments when we loose each other, single in our twenties, thirties and beyond, lets give thanks to being somehow free of a defining purpose... we can really live now, without the heartache we can really dream...

For more artistic deviations in image and word visit my blog run-riot.com

(Above: Beautifully in the light, pen on paper, by Zoe Catherine Kendall, 2010, run-riot.com)

The inside out; a painting

2010-12-21T00:28:00.000Z

You could call it some kind of comment on existence; wearing the inside out and taking the outside in.

A little play on words and imagery, something i have been engaged with recently.

(acrylic paint on acrylic paper, 2010)

Sabotage Reviews of the Ephemeral

2010-12-08T18:11:00.000Z

December gives us an independent review of the Lazy Gramaphone Arts Collective including the writings of one very talented author Sam Rawlings and an urging finger point towards interdisciplinary artist and writer Zoe Catherine Kendall (yes that's me) who combines image and written word in her practice.

Thanks Ian Chung, writing for sabotagereviews.com

Lazy Gramaphone

2010-12-01T23:48:00.001Z

I've joined forces with Lazy Gramaphone writers' and artists' collective. See my profile and artwork and read my words here:

http://www.lazygramophone.com/zoecatherinekendall/

To be destroyed: short film of an art intervention i took part in

2010-11-22T21:39:00.003Z

Film footage of 'To be destroyed' - an art intervention that took place in a ten floor office block in soho square before it was gutted, including a snippet of my performance installation piece. Yes that's me in the checked levi shirt and red feet... enjoy.

Film by Alan Rae.

Radio Interview on illfm.net

2010-11-19T18:56:00.001Z

I was interviewed about my writing and art practise by Ryan Walkinshaw, co-presenter of radio show Down the nile backwards, featured on Illfm.net, alongside Robots in Disguise and a whole lot of other antics, earlier this year...

Listen to the show here

Download it here, you'll find me about 54 minutes in!!

Zoe's Place Un-birthday launch event

2010-11-08T23:51:00.002Z

It was a wonderful evening, with a diverse group of selected guests bringing varied creative approaches to our stage, wall and bench. Thanks to everyone for bringing all the yummy food and alcohol, and for partipating in such wonderful ways. We salute you! A special thanks to Rolled Up deejays for the music, Louise Hanson for the un-birthday cup cakes, Todd Hart for the polaroids, and Gedvile Bunikyte, co-organiser.

Guests on the night and their particapation:

Gedvile Bunikyte - introduction to the proceedings

Zoe Catherine Kendall - short film screening

Sohrab Golsorkhi-Ainslie - read passages from two novels, on the subject of birthday and party.

Natashka Moreau - performance

Todd Hart - polaroidal zone

Olivia Hegarty - a presense and readiness to respond

Waldemar Prancekiwiez - text and illustration

Arvydas Umbrasas - fashion illustrations

Babak Jalali - Frontier Blues trailer screening

Christian Nyampeta - short film screening

Gideon Cube-Sherman - intervention/performance

Laurence Kendall aka Rolled Up Deejays - decks

Victoria Andrejeva - party games

Louise Hanson - un-birthday cakes

The Externalisation of consciousness in a living space, soho square ten floor FA HQ office block project

2010-11-07T00:12:00.001Z

At very short notice a group of artists made their presense known in what was the Football Assosciation HQ in Soho Square. The building was to be gutted, and so we were given free reign to use the space for a night time art event last thursday 4th november 2010. Visitors kept arriving to see what was going on in the enormous and empty ten floor office block, getting a unique chance to explore ten floors of installations, interventions, projections and live art. There was a bar serving free booze, only i'm not sure just how repellant the visitors expected it to be (it was deliberately terrifying, with beer and wine served from water coolers, and loud annoying sounds and blindling lights). Guests gathered on the seventh floor terrace to trace their foot steps over a giant mozaic and admire the view over Centre Point.

My installation was on floor three, alongside the primal scream sound-proofed screaming box. For two days prior to the event i had been busying externalising my consciousness onto the fabric of a room, and was there performing the very same activity on the night as guests looked on.

Photograph by Waldemar Pranckiewicz

Live Art at Streetfest October 2010

2010-11-06T21:39:00.000Z

I painted alongside graffiti artist Andy Seize amongst other artists for Streetfest 2010 at the old brewery warehouse on Commercial Road whilst the warehouse party-goers looked on with intrigue. Rickford Compton kindly came down to photograph the art as it happened... with thanks to Ricky and Seize!

Guerilla Art Events

2010-11-06T19:39:00.002Z

Back in those heady days of summer 2010, an artist who prefers to keep her identity a secret and I hosted a joint exhibition at my old house in clapton. We took over the walls, stairs, furniture, shoes, kitchen appliances and clothes horse to emphasis our ideas about the process of making art as being an inseperable part of the living process, and vice versa. Visitors were served tea in broken and mended tea cups as an opportunity to consider the nature of relationships, broken and mended, and had poems written for them by my secret cohort. Photographs, spontaneous drawings, paintings, objects and poems scattered the rooms, as well as an installation of found objects (genuine medical implements c.1960) alongside a poem addressing psychotherapy.

Rolled Up Deejays beat rhythms into the night as guests navigated the two story hackney home. This was the first of a series of guerilla art events, bringing art events into the home and studio.

Below: How I feel about psychotherapy (necessary but intrusive, empowering yet painful surgery on the mind), ZCK, 2010.

Below: Representations of a broken object (what does it mean, how should we act), ZCK, 2010.

Below: Under pressure (a loss of purpose or functionality due to circumstances of existence such as neglect, lack of care or abuse, and a comment on the fragility of people and things), ZCK, 2010.

Below: Seeing the detail, seeing the whole meaning (such-ness, object as everything and nothing, the truth of existence), ZCK, 2010.

Below: Used, abused and worn-out (evidence of living, clues to a story), ZCK, 2010.

Below: Lost in translation (Objects, meanings and messages), ZCK, 2010.

ten floors of an empty office block: artists take over

2010-10-31T21:15:00.000Z

Come and see a show i am taking part on thursday 4th november 2010, in soho square...

The building will be open for guests to explore all ten floors, to find the art installations and interventions, the sounds, music and projections (and the booze) as they attempt to navigate its maze like floor plan. There is a free bar so come down early to get maximum benefit!

The externalisation of consciousness in a living space.

My artwork for ten floor project will take the form of an installation piece
somewhere in the building, where i have been busy externalising
consciousness onto the fabric of a room, and i will be there performing some
live art as part of this installation piece on the night itself.

After the show, the building is going to be gutted.

Come along, bring friends, let's play while we still can!

Un-birthday launch party at my studio?

2010-10-31T21:14:00.000Z

This week the eagerly awaited guest list only launch event is taking place at Zoe's Place (my place) and the theme has been set - un-birthday? As a specially selected group, we will be celebrating our collective existence and collective creativity on any nominated day..

This launch represents the beginning of lots more collective creativity based at Zoe's Place (my place) brought to you from Gedvile Bunikyte and myself.

I mean business with these playing cards

2010-10-31T21:05:00.000Z

We all love business cards and many of us need them. I have been experimenting with some new ones recently.

My sex (and yours)...

2010-10-17T23:14:00.000+01:00

(Right: Vulnerability by Zoe Catherine Kendall, ink on paper, 2009, www.self-series.blogspot.com)

My sex

An image of vulnerability in the graphic representation of female sexual organs. These are not meant as a representation of desire, but rather as a depiction of a feeling, perhaps what it means to be a woman.

Every woman must have a relationship to her vagina, biology demands it, but what about her psychological relationship towards it?

Sometimes I want to celebrate my womanhood, embrace carnal desire in all its intoxicating glory, dream of cock and masturbate. I hasten to add that these are not perverted activities, much less so then tying yourself up in the bondage of strict religious belief. (This is just an opinion; one that shouts out the righteousness of sexual freedom over that of an uptight, hypocritical 'puritan' approach. The body is pure, and the body is definitely something to belief in.)

In the same vane, I belief there is a strong relationship between our minds and our sexual organs, and that how we may be feeling psychologically may dictate our sexual urges and the form of our sexual play (that could be a whole other story...)

So here is something that I hope other women may be able to empathise with, and something I am feeling more and more as a single woman: men want to fuck (not exactly rocket science). This desire for intercourse is not necessarily a negative aspect of the male character, nor is it unique to them, women like having sex too, but I think as sexual creatures, we women behave quite differently – that perhaps being the key to the male-female dynamic. The detail that seems to me to differentiate the two is that where women would aspire to sex as part of something more, men might not know what more they want..

Scenario: if you meet a guy in a club and get talking with them, the first thing on your mind as a woman is not necessarily sex. I am sure it features there in some form, the guise of 'innocent' attraction poorly concealing the basic biological equation of man and woman (tall and short, dark and fair) but, and its a big but, sex might not be the first thing you want to do with this person, you might fancy them, flirt outrageously, snog your heart out, but does that mean you want to go to bed with them? Should it?

Okay so I have conflicting beliefs over feminism, I want to be respected as a woman, and I want to fuck casually too. Or do I? Here is the point of confusion, here lies the contradiction of womanhood (from my humble perspective). Yes we want to copulate, yes we want to play, but so too do we want to abstain, so too do we want wait until the sex becomes part of something more. I guess it depends on what you are looking for out of a date, but I think even a substantial proportion of men would agree that endless flings and meaningless fucks are not going to satisfy us in the long term, that there is something bigger for us to aspire to, a greater harmony between the male and female of the species, a more holistic hunger in need of satiation.

So this brings me to why an image of sexual organs might not represent desire, but rather vulnerability. As a woman you want to flirt with men (not all of them, only a select few), you want to get to know them and get a bit closer, but you feel your sexuality as a vulnerable link in the chain - should you fend off attempts to 'get closer' on the first date and act saintly in the form of a pay off? Or should you go with the flow, loose yourself in your body and succumb to the moment? Will the end result be that the man takes all the power? Do you feel as though your date is interested in you in more then just a sexual context, or are you being defined by this context? Are we girls pretending we want something casual because that's what seems more acceptable to men? Does it even matter?!

Well there is the conundrum, and I'm not even going to try to provide a answer except to say girls take control, guys lose the cheesy chat up lines and bad sex talk, and lets all loose ourselves in our bodies for a moment, and later pray for a more wholesome gratification.

Is it wrong to want to cuddle?

For more mental deviations check out my blog on Run Riot

(Above: My sex by Zoe Catherine Kendall, ink on paper, 2009)

Paintings, scribbles and pen marks... drawing out the meaning.

2010-10-13T16:59:00.001+01:00

Open publication - Free publishing - More zoe

Mental deviations persist (below the image)...

2010-09-27T19:04:00.000+01:00

(above: Head fuck by Zoe Catherine Kendall, acrylic on acrylic paper, 2010, self-series.blogspot.com)

The present storm; deviations and meanderings...

“Everything, with significance brought to, all images as places of interest, all nominated stories and moments of living.

You are here with me. We are the same yet different.

£69 spent on the pursuit of knowledge, but that's ok, even for a pauper. I gathered 15 or so little editions for that, and I feel ready to devour them.

It's strange, I’ve been feeling tired recently, ill or maybe it's just the smoking, I don't know. All the tests show up ok, so perhaps it's just psychosomatic. I want to go home, I’m homeward bound, in search of something. I want to make tea with ritual attached and absorb these books. I know I am going to translate their meaning using the patterns of my life experiences thus far. I know it's just an interpretation, but that makes it more personal. In the book shop, I felt touched. Glimpses of a universal narrative seemed to be twitching, calling out to me. I embraced their call.

Mum was the same on the telephone, interested in commerce more so then well being. Perhaps the two are interconnected shadows, but the route is still different. I wish her route into me was less obvious, more ingenious, but then I wouldn't be me. It's ok mum, I accept you as you are. Love is something different, but the attachments at least are not in question.

That's an emotive word for me; attachment. Many people are fearing, especially those you accidentally love. There are lessons here, and non lessons, I am sure of it. Meanings, meaningless meanderings, a message still. Being apart in love is something I know of, crossed paths, echoes and stains. Non attachment has been recommended to me, but I am equally suspicious of it. The current agenda is the current, that is to say, we are living now.

So I dressed the scene, poured the tea and was anxious, it was time to begin..

The taste of the yogurt had changed after being in contact with the fruit. Its subtleties had (disappointedly) disappeared. I managed to get some on my best scarf too.

The books were very emotive; clearly I wasn't alone.

You know that moment I'm talking of, just imagine; smoking a cigarette, poignantly self reflective, looking in on yourself, feeling everything that has ever happened; to you, around you, breathing it in as if to memorise every minute detail, extracting meaning so as to place yourself within it.. you know that moment I’m talking about, well it doesn’t exist any more.

I'm holding on to everything that is holding on to me. I am remaining a coexistent, remaining in a relational field to all other things. But if I were to let go..? Let go of all those ties, just relax my grip, a bit at first, and then totally, what then? Would it matter? Would I still exist? I believe so, I think I would, but differently. Do I need to hold on, and if so, how tightly should I hold? Is it going to be a rough ride, I mean, are we talking about a risk that I could fall, drop and be lost to you? Are we talking of a real risk here? I'm not sure if the appropriate risk assessments have been carried out, I’m not completely sure if there is an answer to this just yet. I'm holding on to the cigarette, holding on for dear life, I know that much, but not much more right now.”

Discover more of my work on run-riot.com

Clambering on the shoulders of cowards

2010-09-27T18:29:00.002+01:00

A way of life...

We who, clambering on the shoulders of cowards, might choose to interject.

We who, seeking a more intuitive understanding might require still more clarity for self preservation.

We who talk, muse and create, shooting shadows of ourselves across graffiti strewn walls in cities of contradiction.

Methods riddled with coping mechanisms of old; who are you and how do we relate? I might like you but don't let me define you or i'll kill us both. Love me and i'll loose you to find you, leave me and i'll never truly know you, streaming meaning from your mere existence. You who, wavering in the light, whimper and escape me; you are not here for definitions, we are infinitely more elusive than that, casting words across landscapes of lesser resolution to unite. We are.

(left: Getting better by Zoe Catherine Kendall, oil on canvas paper, 2010)

Portrait of Jerone

2010-09-23T18:11:00.002+01:00

Suicide by Jellyfish

2010-09-22T13:30:00.001+01:00

Some pretty awesome sounds to inspire.... and some pretty hot visuals..

Think P.SO the earth tone king channelling Blackalicious via Billy Holiday, seasoned with extra soul...

You can download it, they're giving it away...sweet!

trailer below...

"Is this a form of hyperreality... (story continues below)

2010-09-22T09:59:00.007+01:00

(above: ...oh... pen on paper by Zoe Catherine Kendall, Sept 2010)

...or am i just imagining it??! Does anyone have any sunglasses they could lend me? I didn't realise my reflection was so bright. Come to think of it, i feel a little clammy... where is my rolling tobacco? Fuck, let's just chill for a bit longer... you got any of that stuff left? Anything to make me feel a bit more normal..."

Side notes: Ann hadn't acually taken any narcotics... but had somehow managed to induce a natural state of hyperreality, and suspicions were beginning to arise about her mental welfare. Personally i think it was just life that had sent her off the rails... no one knows what happened to her after that night...

All that you are; a big thanks to Sane Phoenix!

2010-09-21T19:04:00.000+01:00

So many of you will know that i have been painting words, or slogans of the self, to go along side my more traditional paintings and writings recently. Last week I was inspired after a very unexpected and slightly distressing night to paint a slogan using the words of Fontella Bass from the song All that you give by Cinematic Orchestra. It's the sentiment that counts here. (Listen to the song and watch the video below). Thanks Sane Phoenix, you were awesome.

My ex boyfriend has many faces (and not much to say for himself)

2010-09-21T18:06:00.004+01:00

A private letter to my universal ex boyfriend and a shared public experience...

'Dear ex lover,

I hope this message finds you well and rested, and that you are not too perturbed by attempts of mine to communication with you. Its not that I want to revisit old territories, islands irrevocably lost to the sea, or try to recapture those meteours of love that we sent spinning into space all those years ago. It is true that those pieces of land have been surrendered forever to skies beyond our mortal reach, and that they will remain suspended for all time above and beyond our feeble grasp. It is true also that the unspoken keys to the great citadel we once reigned have been swallowed up by the earth, moulded back into the ground as humble stones. I have wanted to tell you for some time now about how I swallowed some of those stones that our love had reclaimed, and that they are in me still, as ground beneath your unknowing feet. You, old lover, once reigned my heart, spinning me into a vulnerable golden grain for a feast you could yield and eat, and having devoured me, conquer, question and retreat. And from that point onwards, I was lost to you completely, washed up on an isolated beach. And now we have been separated for quite some time, living lives as distant dreams, knowing only of our past mistakes, licking our wounds in the wilds of our hearts weakly, wondering frequently whether what we lost, we could regain, wandering carefully to the edge of our split, the spit of land that stretches out to a lonely bay where only we were washed up ungraciously. We, having lost cannot regain, what we were then, you there, and me without gain. Lover, I think of you repeatedly, gesturing out in the storm of my sleep, clinging to your image as I lay in arms, and with crudity conjuring our broken embrace. But these boys, old lover, cannot compare, their hearts unknown inspire no such care, their eyes unlit do not reflect my loving stare, bare of mind and passionless, with them I warm the bed we made, with them I play a foolish game. But from thoughts of you, ex lover, I must refrain, except to say, in love we were a foot above, and having fallen, have found ourselves now lame. To you, ex lover, I offer this, my unnamed thoughts, my exiled kiss. To you I owe a world of pain, 'memories lost like tears in the rain'. To you I sailed a solvent sea, my breath absorbed as a silent fee, and from you I wobbled, ran, sank and dived, airless, loveless, lost of pride. And here I am now, ex lover, with land of my own set back from the edge, a cliff I have climbed alone, a land to you now unknown. And here I will stay, safer in myself, and only wish that perhaps one day, you might sail that great sea of time and tear, aiming gallantly back at me.'

Phew, that was pretty liberating! ;-) Who's next?!

I also write, draw and create for Run Riot! See my posts here!

(above My boyfriend has blue eyes and a fading appearance, 2010, acrylic on acrylic paper by Zoe Catherine Kendall)

On pondering a lack of meaning...

2010-09-15T15:08:00.000+01:00

Ever get that feeling that nothing is of any particular significance, that nothing seems to hold any genuine meaning? Tell me about it, and boy doesn't it suck?!

It's even more frustrating when you feel as though you really do attempt to engage with life, imbuing meaning in each of your actions, but still with no real gain.

Sometimes it seems as though if you do care or you do believe in something, then you are merely paving the way for its deconstruction. What's the message here – that we should all be feelingless zombies who don't care either way?! That redemption comes from zero expectation? Or perhaps that we are looking in the wrong places for this supposedly enriching food for the soul...

Yeah, you see what i'm doing here, i'm going back on myself, i've already sung the praises of a life lacking in the foolish pursuit of some bigger meaning, i've previously posted about how it's in the dirth of meaning that we may find ourselves, so what's with all my whining? Life, I guess...

Thankfully, I can find some reprieve in Gold Panda's Lonely Owl...

This melodic tune seems to encapsulate both the repetitive nature of life coupled with a sense of focusing in on certain details at certain times, and then focusing out again. It seems to ebb and flow through narrative and quiet, giving the sense of a journey which is sometimes serene, sometimes energetic, and always full of personality. I can imagine the story of this lonely owl, gently making its way through day and night, stumbling upon other things and other places as it goes, but always coming back to this journey that it is making by itself.

Perhaps I ought to take some inspiration from the lonely owl, look for meaning in my day to day living and not expect too much, but enjoy those little deviations and undulations in my story as and when they happen to pass by and stop in.

If meaning doesn't force me to surrender myself, I won't go looking. And I can be sure of its presence in all the minute details of my mundane existence. Mmmm, just about time to make a nice cup of tea... ;-)

Artist's Cry: SOS!

2010-09-14T14:29:00.000+01:00

And if this doesn't work, it would seem even more appropriate to employ gorilla tactics and bring the art into our living spaces -

the dark corners

2010-09-13T10:46:00.000+01:00

Half-illuminated scenes; at the bottom of the garden others may be lurking... beware!

The artist resides...

2010-09-07T23:43:00.000+01:00

Over the past two months i have been getting my hands pretty grubby whilst transforming what was an almost derelict apartment into an artist's live-work space, but not just any live-work space, perhaps the ultimate artist's residence. This (temporary) space will become the epicentre of all my creative outputs, and hopefully bring other artists and creatives together during the process. These are bold statements, i know, but it's all a part of the master art-work-life plan i am fostering here on Commercial Street, E1.

What is this master plan i hear you say... well it's all about the creation of a space that can by used as a social and artistic hub, the perfect setting for regular artist salons, project planning and exhibitions. Gedvile Bunikyte (my cohort) and I have begun the process of inviting artists, thinkers, writers and other creative types into the space to discuss hypotheses on art and to plan events. The space is due to be 'born' to the rest of the world in late october, with an 'un-birthday' themed launch evening where we shall be inviting other artists and interested parties to bring along a birthday gift they have made, un-made, or made-up, for a spot of spontaneous curation and a few skewed party games. We want to turn convention on its head, challenge and provide alternatives to limiting social and cultural conditioning, and to rethink the way we approach art and life.

Our current artistic agenda lies in the glorification of the living process as an integral and aspirational lead to the art process, and vice versa. That is exactly why it feels so significant to have a studio space which is also a living space, a hub and a gallery space. And that is exactly why we want to encourage an ongoing discourse to accompany the process, and to become intergral to the practise of other artists. Gedvile and I have found that by coming together to discuss, debate and conjugate, we have been able to inspire our own art work and direction. We find the space to have an ongoing dialogue not only empowering in the opportunity it offers for taking ownership of one's thoughts but also because it has proved very conducive to work!

We plan to hold regular salons on a fortnightly basis once the studio space is fully operational, and to exhibit the outcomes of our having come together to think on a monthly basis. We invite all artists and creatives to come along and be a part of this process. Please email me to register your interest and receive regular updates.

To see some of what Gedvile has been up to, visit the centre of the universe.

Welcome to the new space.

See more photos below!

The end of you; the beginning of me

2010-09-01T01:42:00.000+01:00

I believe in the personalisation of ritualistic behaviours. Something transient occured, did you mark its passing?

Momentos

2010-08-30T13:34:00.000+01:00

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?

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

2010-08-13T12:11:00.000+01:00

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.

Amen.

Last night i vomited you up

2010-08-13T01:08:00.000+01:00

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.

Defectors

2010-08-05T20:48:00.000+01:00

(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

...

world view II

2010-08-03T23:15:00.000+01:00

drawing on the mind

2010-08-03T22:46:00.000+01:00

world view

2010-08-03T22:42:00.000+01:00

Being better

2010-07-26T13:14:00.000+01:00

Being better - now there’s a concept I can subscribe to - being in the eternal state of my existence, eternal and transitory, everything and nothing all at once, furiously calm. This is how I think about life, about what it is to exist. I am trying to grasp and express that energy, it’s almost tangible, I can nearly feel it between my fingers, squeeze and embrace it through my movement. I want to be able to play with this existence of mine, to explore its potential, to be the architect of myself. I think of just sitting, of just being, and of experiencing true serenity and enlightenment in this simple state as one of the greatest aspirations I could strive for. As well as this, I’d like to bounce effortlessly from mundanity to the magnificent and back, to float on the surface of my experience without thinking about how to be, and to bask in those euphoric moments of enlightenment and clarity as I would like to bask in the sunshine, hourly. Identifying the painful spaces inside myself forms a wonderful part of a process of release and facilitation. It’s a process of personal liberation that I am speaking of, a huge gasping sigh of relief. Yes, at times I have felt heavier than lead and yes, I have almost drowned in moments of my own despair, floundered and faltered after significant internal events, but I am turning these tragedies into opportunities for growth, I am learning from them, I am allowing myself the time to find out how to be better.

A couple of months ago I met a person who shared with me their version of existence, took me into their bed, fed me, cradled me, regaled me with stories of their past. Through this experience I learnt something of another's view point on life, and how their little tragedies had shaped them. I learnt how similar we all are, how the lines which define our separate living patterns coalesce, how we are all battling with the same questions about the future, and trying to cope with ourselves in a way that can allow for maximum happiness. We are filtering immediate experiences through a lens of our own time, something unique, transfiguarative. I guess this is what we are, individually, this is what we can offer in terms of perspective and decision, and ultimately that is what will define our greater effect.

And now, on writing this (26/07/10), I am battling with the end of that significant collision, the dissolution of what was, albeit briefly, a sort of communion. I've always felt the end of intimacy severely. I grieve it, it's seems to me a sort of existential loss, a personal degradation. The challenge, I suppose, is to find meaning in what at the time can seem devoid of value. Closure is almost like allowing yourself to open up again, to refresh yourself after what feels like a grubby affair, that of disappointment and disillusionment. What is gained from the end of a union? Personal freedom may be experienced on one hand whilst a sense of isolation may be the interpretation of another. Ironically, nothing has actually changed, and you both continue to exist, as before, regardless of proximity, a fact that is very reassuring. But why do we value these exchanges so highly? It's as though they take us back to a familiar place, as though some form of past loss is beginning to be rectified. We are reuniting, we are coalescing again. So why is that such a desirable state to be in? I guess it brings us in to step with our own nature, it’s an innate condition. Our very existence is demanding of that state of union, it’s less of a choice, more of a need. One analogy could be when you wake up in the morning croaking for water. It's not a questionable process, the intention doesn't require further explanation, it is a simple and necessary function, something beyond language, simple need.

I pause after using that word - need - it's such a dirty word these days, a cuss – she was so needy. I am starting to realise that what that expression really means is I had nothing to give her. Needs are basic, they are existential, they make sense. I am not suggesting that somehow it's okay to be totally reliant on another because that would take away the right of that other to easily exist, but I do think the exchange of mutual need with that of mutual offering is a worthwhile and wisening process. The key is balance between the two.

I guess what I have learnt from the end of this latest union is the balance of together and apart, of self and other. I feel as though I have lost a playmate, a fellow explorer, but I see that I have gained some insights and some independence. It would seem it was a worthwhile value exchange after all, if not a little uncomfortable at times. And now I am starting to feel open again, starting to feel refreshed. No doubt this process will repeat itself, but I'd like to think each time i grapple with it, that I am managing to ‘be better' within it.

One of you is lying

2010-07-14T09:58:00.000+01:00

Above: Gift of a stained heart, 2009

A poem by Dorothy Parker

By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.

Note: Thank you miss Laura Drake Chambers for bringing my attention to this poem.

Freeze frame

2010-07-06T13:53:00.000+01:00

Between us

2010-06-30T11:00:00.001+01:00

Us.

(Tuesday morning, 12pm, 29 June 2010)

Here again
Somewhere familiar
And foreign
Has been lying in wait for me
To turn a corner
And break a delicate glass in my mouth

And now the shards splinter my lips as i
Keep kissing

Keep kissing
And looking away
from you
As you think

And i imagine
These spaces that are hanging in the air
Invisible places that we are visiting

Together, alone
Like deep sea explorers

Or cockroaches, rock coaches
Loaches
Busying about our business

discoveringTerritories unknown
By us at least
As if we were the first, the only
Ones to explore
To investigate space
Between human and human
New man and woman
Rolling and waving
As the tides overcome us
Spluttering lonely
As we look to our horizons
They are written on our hands

Carved into our heads
Like promises to god
I will be true
To myself
To you
I will wander
Waver
She will wallow in herself
As the water beseeches
Her borders
His frontiers, he savours
Like a proper French breakfast
Jam in her mouth, mixed up with blood
From the glass shards that tear
That have torn some great holes
Portals to nowhere
Pools of blue
Oceans

That she saw in his eyes

Camouflaged motions
Making him blind
To me, to us
To this union
Communion
Labour of (love)
Emotion
Unsettles
As it washes us clean
Like salt water babies
Swaddled in time
Mine meandering
As yours rolls back
Yours pulling out
As the tide wanders free
Mine once immersed
Now standing alone
An island
in oceans
A rock in the sea
So this is where we wake
Today delivering
Us from ourselves
With subtle dismay
To ceaselessly scour
The heart of our action
The heat of our traction
And as the cigarette lingers
In place
Between our split lip
We find the earth

That we sailed from

Back beneath our feet.

Manic Depression?

2010-06-29T13:24:00.000+01:00

Slogans to live by...

2010-06-28T11:59:00.000+01:00

As you may have noticed, i've been painting words recently... slogans of the self, opportunities for self reflection, taking ownership of your position, your thoughts, rediscovering the imagery and meaning present in language, glorifying the process of thinking and being...

Slogans of the self series III

2010-06-21T17:09:00.000+01:00

Word Trip

2010-06-16T16:03:00.000+01:00

Say no more

Fly me to the zoo

2010-06-13T23:43:00.000+01:00

This is the next piece in my body piece collection 'More than myself; these animals in me.' It's a crow's wing harness, made from leather, crows wings and lots and lots of thread. I laboured over the making of these wings for some time, carefully sewing the crows wings to a leather lining before putting the harness together. I am seduced by the idea of dedicating time and process to the creation of a hand made object, it seems to me to challenge the concept of preciousness that we attribute to art, jewelley, and every grey area between.

The viewer is invited to consider the wings as a mere object, evocative in their state of being, but also as a conduit for masquerade, allowing for an occurance in the mind which could gesture into a performance space.

More spontaneous faces to get you in the mood

2010-06-11T18:58:00.000+01:00

You know those moments when you feel a little askew, perhaps for unconscious reasons that might become apparent later, well when i have those moments i smoke a cigarette to help me get into the flow with a paint brush or stick of chalk, and capture them on paper. I find the easiest way to try to emulate and express these transient moods is with facial expressions, a simple language we all understand innately...

Sometimes a few key words can help too.

Ceremony of the mundane

2010-06-07T18:39:00.000+01:00

What can we do to reach a higher state of being? How can we learn to relax with more dedication? Getting in touch with the spaces between everything and every action, paying homage to the nuances of day to day life, revelation gained through repetitive tasks, meditation, nothingness and lack of meaning.

Sounds pretty exciting huh? I know, it’s my latest party trick.

I’ve heard it said somewhere that there’s therapy to be had in mundanity, and i’ve often thought that a lack of meaning is somehow the greatest aim. It’s not a dirth of anything meaningful as such, but rather a space where lines intersect or tail off, an equation which somehow cancels itself out, a subtle balance and a serene harmony with life. Think tea ceremony, the rituals of meal time or bath time, and the moments between action and rest, the tiny pauses between each breath. Perhaps these are the true places of authentic living, the acts that define us both regularly and religiously. I think the aspiration here is to just be, and to remain fulfilled and at peace in that simplest of states. Our ‘highly intelligent’, greatly evolved brains seem to let us down sometimes with expectations of something greater, more perceptible and even more tangibly enthralling then we have yet experienced, but why?

Over the last year or so i have begun to put in practise this idea of a meaning which is less definable but infinitely more rewarding. Do we need to keep asking questions or does there come a point when we can let our exhaustive and far-journeying minds rest and relinquish in a simple state of being.

So, as a good friend once said to me, let’s just be.

But it is important to remember that there is something that exists even in the most empty of spaces, a mind, yours, mine.

Here is one of my inside out places which mundanity has helped me to understand:
http://soundcloud.com/zoe-catherine-kendall/inside-out

HACKED

2010-06-03T18:44:00.000+01:00

If things look a little odd here, it is beacuse some horrible people have been hacking my blog!!

Please forgive any posts or menus that may have disappeared, they are just on holiday, they will be back again, have no doubt about it.

I hope this hasn't put all you good people off reading my blog.

And if you are the hacker, this is not over, please stop messing me around now and think about your karma.

Thought for the day: a tree metaphor

2010-06-01T13:08:00.000+01:00

Life is like a tree in the open air, sometimes basking in sunshine and warmth, other times torn apart by the wind, and hopefully still standing by spring.

Bite me: Performative Body Pieces

2010-06-01T12:54:00.000+01:00

This is another body piece from my 'More than myself; these animals in me' collection. It's an electroformed fine silver shark jaw, complete with five sets of silver encased teeth, scary?! The piece can be worn as a headress, with the strap fixing around the back of the head, but it can also be worn in a multitude of other ways... hanging around the neck or off one shoulder, strapped around your thigh... or any other inspired method that comes to you. The overall feeling from this piece could be described as violent, dangerous, viscious, and perhaps other worldly, but you may have your own take on it. How does it make you feel? What will you express when you transform into the shark? Put the mask on, play....

Where are we at? Sometimes i find myself pondering...

2010-05-31T13:24:00.000+01:00

..how our urges may separate us

and yet

the thought of him made my pussy warm.

I guess what i am trying to say is that in many senses i have turned a lot of my fantasies into realities, and now i’m just playing catch up with myself.

But for a moment, let us ponder art school surrealism..

..fuck art school surrealism, I propose art school realism! Gosh, don’t those subtly evocative boots have a good sole on them, why they’ll cycle you all the way to work and back!

Oh and, how are your paintings coming along my dear?

Well then

do ask yourself, how is your ART-WORK-LIFE going these days?

One might say with creativity in every step!

Slogans of the self II

2010-05-26T19:40:00.000+01:00

On acid: Hallucigens aid my discovery of what it is to 'be'...

2010-05-25T11:53:00.000+01:00

Everybody loves acid, don't they? It's one of those drugs that you've either tried yourself and regaled your friends with ridiculous, often unbelievable stories of, or that you've been on the receiving end of said stories about its so called powers of enlightenment. In my experience, your state of mind at the time is the biggest influencing factor on your trip. I'd like to think my state of mind at the moment is pretty sound, and hence, after a totally mental time under the influence of the aforementioned psychotropic substance, I made some pretty fundamental discoveries. It was dark at times, but most of all, it was bang on...

My Discoveries were as follows...

1.

A vessel, the body as a receptacle to bottle life as it passes by, fragments of a storm
crystalised in time and space, furious moments suspended between us, I and you, the
world we are wired to, weaning from the earth as newborns seeing afresh the old ways
of our parents, preparing our frontiers for a battle won, softening the blows that came,
that could come, relearning new habits, reworking ourselves into a future of rebirth, a
destination to complete the cyclical nature of being, the incidence of creation, mothered
by and then mothering, as if to attend to a shared concept of energy, we, the brothers
and sisters, the lovers and loners, and those voyaging between spheres of otherness,
rediscovering in themselves a place we can all call home, more of a feeling then a firm
location, nestling, residing, resounding within.

2.

Sensory filters, funnels of palette-able experience, the olbas oil feels green, tastes heady,
washes me out, cutting to my core channels, passing right through those veins and
airways i house myself within and opening me, oiling me, easing my passage out of here
into here again, here and there, where i find myself, both lost and found, salvaged and
sailed, adrift an ocean of time and place, sound and sight, pinpointed in thought for
some small eternity, which, now passing has not yet begun and is beginning to fade out,
but it is there, between the pages of a closed book, located in the underside of a object
you may wish to nominate, or in all of nature, another portal of awareness with which
one can understand all and nothing, the crystal image.

The play of things

2010-05-22T12:14:00.000+01:00

Playful as ever, things in life happen with about as much meaning as this projected net curtain on my lounge wall. It's there, it's gone, it's there again... and you can't predict its course, so just bask in it when it's there to be basked in. Simple.

Slogans of the self

2010-05-18T14:51:00.000+01:00

Your niave gaze for my eyes which cannot see.. inform me.

2010-05-15T16:13:00.001+01:00

ZCK - 12/5/10 – 13.46pm

Events which facilitate redemption

I propose that certain key ‘events’ in life can trigger similarly significant inner events, whose inner direction is aligned with the details of the key contextual event set in the external world (e.g. My lover left me and i realised i need to overcome the severance of a connection with my parents). The arising inner event has the potential to encourage and promote a greater depth to inward perception, thus allowing for a sort of self-illumination and facilitation. .. a redemption through the repetition of a pattern in both external and internal worlds. Through noticing this reoccurring pattern, one is in an improved position to figure out the mysteries of its equation, and finally, through revisiting and resolving it, one is liberated...

My housemate pointed out that this is a fundamentally Christian belief - suffering induces freedom and enlightment, carving us out. The lovely postcard to the left, which i have doddled and scrawled on, is by giulia resteghini, whose lithographs explore her fascination with dreams, and the heightened perceptions they bring...

Feeling as though something is missing again? Interweaved with the progress of loss..

2010-05-11T19:40:00.001+01:00

Feeling as though something is missing again? Is that

ever so slightly excited sensation hiding at the back of

your mind? Got the impression that you are waiting for

something, something that is currently lacking, but for

which you are fervently hopeful..?

Drop it, beware, don’t expect.

Live, breath, coexist and assert your independence.

If you feel as though you are hopeful for the

excitement of something not present, it is a pretty

strong indication that you feel something is missing.

Chances are you are hopeful of love, association and

intimacy, chances are you have experienced this

fundamental connection already, sometime before

now and lost it. Was it with your mother or father?

It’s possible that at some point in your life, maybe as a

child, you experienced it. But it got lost along the way;

perhaps through betrayal, broken trust or abandon,

perhaps through other circumstances. Have you always

been looking for it since? That’s the lack of it, the

leftover hole that remains where it once existed

carelessly.

So now you know why you are constantly hunting down

that sensation, perhaps you can use this new found

wisdom to rationalise your thoughts and feelings, and inform your future relationships.

Don’t look to others for something you lost from a parent. Come to terms with the

childhood loss. Free yourself. Don’t look for intimacy, let it happen as and when.

Theatre of the everyday

2010-05-10T15:34:00.000+01:00

The stage has been set for your life.

Journeying through Brussels in between friends

2010-05-05T17:24:00.000+01:00

A story in pictures, girl with a camera, follow me as i follow my friends on a journey through Brussels on the hottest weekend of the year so far... discover the streets, markets, parks and shops we would have called our own for those precious moments we spent in each other's company. Through the eyes of a thinking, feeling human being, a street can be so much more than it's mere appearance. These are the places we play out our lives, everyday lives packed full of momentus occassions in thought and action. Never underestimate that journey you take from your house to the bus stop again, this is you living... ..and you might just find yourself in the merest of walks, if you are open...

(this is part of what i like to think of as the 'process of living').

Just another pavement on the way to... or is the place we got to know Kamilla?

Another flea market splayed across the playground of Europe... or the place that reminded me of being in Berlin last summer, thinking about relationships as i weaved between cardboard boxes of glasses and plates...

Two people in a park, or a breeding ground of reflective conversation, and a place where we got to know each others' experiences and complexities a little better...

Friends in green spaces, friends ripe from journeying across Brussels on the tram...

Vincent in cap or the great land of dressing up boxes...

...notice the internal landscapes as they're forged within the external world.

Dialogue in my mind with a version of ‘you’

2010-05-03T14:45:00.001+01:00

Nothing is free

You make me wet

I love myself

there is an energy about you that attracts

my mind dictates calm

but I am demanding patience from myself

urgency navigates

embracing inspiring new ways of behaving

you are there

I am learning

winking at me

to let things happen as they will

I don’t need you

I am following a path of my own making

you only want me absently

toward a new state of calm.

Wandering spaceships, we are always alone

2010-05-02T20:15:00.000+01:00

This is in a sense true. We are seperated from all other things by our bodies, the place where we reside. Our minds cannot be visited by other minds, nor can we recline fully in another's thoughts. When we know what someone means, we know it through what we know, we know it differently. We cannot really cross the divide into another's being, we cannot really 'be together as one' but rather, two seperate creatures, sharing proximity and notion. This is the unique experience of a human being, being alone amongst others, the mind isolating as it unites.

But many of us are stiving for togetherness and intimacy, many of us are not content with the state of independence with which we live. You know what i mean, like when you have a thought that you think is funny or significant, and immediately, instead of revelling in it just for yourself, you think - i want to share this with... such and such would love this.. i'll just put it on facebook... what is this if is not an attempt to feel less than alone, more together, more intune with another, less isolated within the self.

But why do we try to draw those connections, what is it we are trying to create or sustain? Is it a grip on the world outside ourselves? Is it a bouy keeping us from drifting far away into our minds...

As an artist i feel i have gotten to grips with this concept of being alone through the necessity for self expression. What could make one feel more isolated then the gulf between their articulation and it's reception? An attempt to connect paired with a refusal to engage. Eventually one may decide that it is ok for their audience to be as conceptual and abstract as the art that they create, but this nevertheless emphasizes the spaces between all creatures. We inhabit one body. We may eventually come to terms with this independence. As Anthony Gormley says, this will be how we learn...

"Our bodies come out of other bodies. In a sense our primary experience is of dwelling within the realm of another. We learn how to listen, how to move, how to attend to the world, within a totally protected realm. Then, at birth, that is taken away from us. We are made into an object that in a sense is separated by space and skin. We are always in a relational field. There are a few moments, maybe in intimate love or moments of total immersion in an immersion tank, where we might recover something of that primal condition. But in the end, we are born alone and we die alone.

In a sense, that is the human condition: that we are lost in space, from the moment that we separate from the body that contained us originally. This could be a tragedy, a kind of existential loss, but I don’t think it is at all. I don’t think of the condition of “aloneness” of the human consciousness as being a limitation. It’s actually the great challenge and inspiration that each of us has. In a way we are spaceships. At that moment of birth we set upon a journey in time and space, and we have to use it as well as we can. " Read more.

Some kind of weird infestation at the last tuesday society...errr?

2010-04-30T20:21:00.000+01:00

Sometimes I make jewellery, which also happens to be inspired by my curious outlook on life. A selection of these creatures will soon be on exhibition and for sale in Viktor Wynd's Fine Art Gallery Space aka The Last Tuesday Society...

...so keep your eyes peeled.

Thought for the day: to be deemed an artist...

2010-04-29T12:52:00.000+01:00

A dinner party at my house last night sparked the discussion about whether writing or art needs to communicate something clearly to an audience in order to be deemed 'a success' or whether the mere act of attempting communication and self expression through the medium of words, imagery and object is enough for it to be considered a worthy contribution...in either the artist's or the critics mind.

Can we talk about the way we feel without being accused of a self centred approach? Is what we have to say about our own experiences relevant to a wider audience?

In my view, the beauty of the dialogue between the work and the audience is enough, regardless of whether these two points ever meet. What is this obsession with being understood? I think it is an illusion to believe you can effectively describe your internal landscape and intricate thought processes to another... afterall, there are some many stages in the process of an idea from concept to realisation to reception...

The inspiration has to first filter through the artist's mind, originating in some way from external stimuli, then the artist has to feed these thoughts through the process of creation into a physical form. At this point, when the complex thought processes, having been spun into something visual and palpable, the work lays wait, at the total mercy of the eye of the beholder... what mood are they in today? What experiences affect their reading of the work? What new filters must this work now pass through?

In my belief, the dialogue, instead, should be seen as a meeting place between one mind and another. How much do we relate to eachother? Do we understand another's perspective? What can we learn from this exchange?

I will agree that a certain amount of self awareness in the voice of the work is necessary for the messages being conveyed to hold credibility, but the rating of success should be in the authenticy of this voice, and not in it's eloquent story telling capabilities...

One must remember, art exists in time, so there is infinite possibilty for an individual to be touched by it's sentiment on one day, and dismissive of its presence on another... just as one glorifies and dismisses their own thought processes on a day to day basis.

Lets not be too precious about art, lets clear our throats and see what comes out...

Keep in mind that before one can be considered a genius, they must be considered a human... and this delicate state of being is an art form in itself. If an 'artist' is telling you something about their world, and attempting an honesty in their expression, they are doing an infinitely good service to all listeners, encouraging interaction, sharing, and an open minded approach... and who are we to disregard what it is that they have to say? Who knows, if we try, we might learn from this process...

In this way, as we live, we can all choose to turn our experiences into an expression which we can invite others to share in, and we can call be considered artists of our time.

Afterall, lets not be pretentious about the job of an artist, when we are all living...

...personally, i am a fan of David Shrigley

(love) sick? Tell me something new...

2010-04-28T16:55:00.000+01:00

I am diarising my everyday life into palpable bite-size narratives. It helps me to understand sometimes.. but is it a page of my diary from August 2009, or has it become a story...

Going Somewhere?

2010-04-23T14:12:00.000+01:00

Going somwhere? But where? You are already everywhere...
And then you're here, but you feel as thought you are heading someplace else..
but you are already there, and you always will be,
no matter how far you go, or how little.
Here, there
(t)here;

(being everywhere at once).

Unlike the other images and photographs on this blog which i create myself, i found these 3 photos in a flea market in Berlin. They seemed to be speaking to me, reminding me that i too am on a journey, but of course we all are, all the time. On particular occassions one may feel more aware of this journey, more aware of the circuitry behind certain decisions, actions and behaviours... The paths i choose to take on my journey seem somehow to relate to these circuits in my mind... almost as if, as i visualise, i bring to life my dreams, fears and imaginings...

Landscapes in my inner ear...

2010-04-22T12:54:00.000+01:00

Nowa Huta create the feeling of a far away land right inside my musing mind...

I am transported to an otherworldly, post apocolyptic, energetic futurescape, at times spacious and calm, at others times hectic. This secretive east london duo, new for 2010, so succinctly describe the light-dark feelings of progression through a moment of sheer awareness that i so often enjoy.

I am here, i am everywhere, Nowa Huta are lighting up the universal night sky...

most of all, this music is ALIVE.

Check them on the fader

Is that cigarette making you feel a bit nauseous? Me too! Time for some 'spiritual bluetooth' then...

2010-04-21T15:44:00.000+01:00

At the moment i am in the process of creating spontaneous drawings which i do not plan out before putting pen or ink to paper. Whenever I get the urge to express myself in a fluid, painterly fashion, i just pick up a brush and let the sensations within flow out into the visual world. I feel as though i have set up a direct link between my hand movements and my psyche, and this 'process of art' acts as a kind of 'spiritual bluetooth' between the inside and the outside of my mind, as Patrick Hussey, my cohort at Run-Riot, so aptly put it.

Shadows of ourselves

2010-04-15T12:00:00.000+01:00

Fear (it's in all of us)

2010-04-12T16:21:00.000+01:00

A sad/bad memory, fast being absorbed by the healing self.

2010-04-12T16:13:00.001+01:00

These Passing Days

(07/12/09)

I am no longer dreaming dreams of you. ‘You’ are no longer a person but a concept, a representation of pain. ‘You’ exist in nightmares only, ‘you’ at a distance, fizzling and fading, burning sticks in no mans land, burning away, smoke fills the air, smoke rises as I turn away. ‘You’ – nothing but a pile of ashes in a deserted street. I will not walk that way anymore.

And now me; I am fizzling, not fading, fighting and fearing. I am full of life, full of myself, full of anxiousness. I remain, after you facilitated my discovery. I sway, oscillate, and now I am in recovery. Positioning carefully, full of ware, pinching tears together, holding them in.

Most of all I want to be safe.

From ‘you’ since you insist on haunting me.

And now again, I assert my new found calmness.

I am calm.

A face says a thousand words, if you choose to listen...

LISTEN.

A face says a lot...

2010-04-12T15:26:00.000+01:00

...its expression a master of disguise you might think, but some things simply can't be concealed. Keep looking, what do their faces say? Listen up! You might make some valued judgements. A smile can give a lot away...

A face says...

2010-04-08T23:02:00.000+01:00

Faces appearing, expressions capturing passing thoughts, features revealing emotions that words alone can't describe. Here are some of my current sketches, a montage of eyes, noses and lips, skin creases, beards and fringes which gesture out from my mind. I did not draw these 'people', they drew themselves. I know they say something about the expressions i've known and the people who've worn them. Each set of gazing eyes seems to be communicating, even thinking and feeling. I like these 'people', they are my friends, they feel close.

Censored and yet so vulnerable still...

2010-04-07T20:56:00.000+01:00

Soft hard structures ( ) internal and external ( ) isolation and company