I was super looking forward to this show. I Luhuuurve Hannah’s work. I feel things about her writing, and it’s more than love, I think it’s kinship. I feel like if I was a million times cleverer, I’d be Hannah Black, because everytime I read something she’s writ I’m like “YAS” and I have a lil mental high five bc she’s killing it good (but I’m too stupid to be Hannah black, I am simply not worthy). Saying that, walking into the space; I understand it’s small, right. I understand. But I was kinda underwhelmed. I left feeling betrayed and empty but because I had betrayed my girl, Hannah (she doesn’t know she’s my girl, but she is). I had betrayed Hannah, because I didn’t like it. Me an Gab spoke to the gallery man who was watching the space, and he said to read the Art Forum article, so I did and man. HANNAH. Why is she doing this to me? As always, the writing was stunning, I am in awe of her mind utterly and truly helplessly in love. But why? Why should I have to go to Art Forum to understand the work? Why is there such a large delay between seeing and comprehending? I don’t like it. I don’t like that there was such a specific way of understanding the work, because even though after I read it, I understood and liked and came to know its sensitivities and intricacies: that’s not it for me. I understand that not all art has to be immediately understood. Or actually, ever understood. In fact, the whole idea of artwork and meaning is problematic, and tied up with neutrality and social capital and being a white straight male and I get it. Hannah, I’m here for you, but not cool man, not cool. Accessibilty is a huge deal breaker for me, I and I didn’t like that Art Forum, of all places, as a custodian of like art world insider knowledge, was where I had to go. Having said that, if you go, read the Art Forum piece first, pick up the gallery hand out and read that before you look. Her work is complex, beautifully so, but understanding is just another way to measure social capital which I truly truly believe is a way of excluding. I just wish she’d written that interview, that excerpt, on the wall of the gallery in Sharpie. I’d have loved her even more. I still love her, but I’d love her more.

OCT 17TH 2015

<<<<< do Zarina’s first. she is reading the exhibition attachments (‘press release’ + art forum essay that the gallery assistant recommended) and I’m making a point not to. bc I get sad when a show is activated by its footnotes. i had that exhibition moment where it’s like, someone is speaking to me in a language i know 5% of. I’m getting odd words. I like your voice though, its volume, tone, but it’s just information without meaning and I wanna know what you’re telling me.

that language/////there are smiley faces scratched into tall brown painted boards. fleece blankies pushed against the wall by perspex squares. folded leather cuts on a shelf. In a corner at the back, a small screen loops a pretty standard video. standard because as a video gal I’m seeing the looped tone in art atm. that typical dunnnnnnn soundtrack that i am.done with. playing with transitions. deep-edit voices saying zzz lines like ‘this is the part where nothing happens,’ while transparent pngs of anatomical bodies zoom around the screen. It was flat for me :( and we had trecked so far…….and uh then we mulled on the tube home. zarina had safari’d the art forum text and was moaning her fave lines from the piece, pretending to stab herself, bent over, disheartened. because it’s like ‘ohhhhhh.’ if only the artist had been there to make her case for the pieces, how the blankets were from plane journeys and were cuts of our ‘individual discomfort.’ the boards were office dividers etched because ‘in Jared Sexton's 2008 book Amalgamation Schemes, he talks about race as a scratch, a line going astray.’  that is more interesting than the pieces tho!! It’s a tricky one. Some work by thinking first + then illustrating, while others spit work out and then ask where the fuck that came from. so IMO the work comes off a little contrived IF you read the excuses, and if you don’t, it’s just okay.

b͓̽e͓̽s͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽v͓̽i͓̽e͓̽w͓̽e͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽l͓̽a͓̽n͓̽d͓̽s͓̽c͓̽a͓̽p͓̽e͓̽
͓̽o͓̽r͓̽ ͓̽o͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽e͓̽s͓̽k͓̽t͓̽o͓̽p͓̽

{ 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔓𝔲𝔟𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔢𝔵𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱 𝔲𝔰 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔥 𝔳𝔦𝔞 𝔓𝔞𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔬𝔫. 𝔚𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔡𝔬 𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔧𝔬𝔟𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔓𝔞𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔴𝔢 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 - 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔴𝔰 𝔫 𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬 𝔬𝔫. 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔰𝔬 𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔲𝔰 2 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔶 𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔦𝔤 𝔣𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔱𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰, 𝔭𝔲𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔠 𝔬𝔯 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔰 - 𝔴𝔢'𝔩𝔩 𝔡𝔬 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔲𝔠𝔢 𝔮𝔲𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔬𝔲𝔱𝔭𝔲𝔱; 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔣𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢. }

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