MAMA vulnerare- To Wound
MAMA vulnerare - To Wound
We are a collective of artists from the Royal College of Art MA Photography programme. Our work reaches across and through both still and moving image, sculpture, and performance. Within this trans disciplinary practice, questions of identity and belonging are gazed upon and considered. The distance between people is measured by red balloons on the clocks of wind and tide. Longing extends its arms, through a torso swirling in solitude, as bodily scissors sculpt the space with sadness. The hard lines that sometimes cut through families leave voids and their lack of crossing points are found here, specifically between Mother and daughter. Hands and faces arise out from hidden places and manipulate the surface, emerging and retreating by turns. Poetry drips down walls as traditional Greek dress adorns queer bodies and the status quo is turned on its head. Spaces of care and age are given form around curves and through holes, as cities are built from stapled stacks. Hybrid formations emerge from hidden identities, as sequinned comedy lances tragedy, in a lonely waltz beneath a dark bridge.
Dialogue arises between materiality and performance. The entanglements of our lives are questioned through critical thinking and dancing by water. The aesthetics of intimacy accompany a shock of colour in glass.
Our work is marked by our affect upon each other and is gathered here as a collection of individuated practices, linked through the bond of time traversing tender subjects and considering what we might make out of abrading times.
Mama, I’m dangerous
She was never there
I was meant to be at your breast
Soured milk
Snipped hair
From the resentment of your body
Into the cruelty of the void
Olivier and Edward - weirdly hot
Or charming
Something
Sweet and quiet
Arresting
Mama
As the daughter I am your wound
As my mother you are a cut
In the surface of an expectation I could not hold
Failed to be
You can’t just stick a crutch against a wall and call it art
I gave you that months ago
She would have been liable to bleed excessively
And still the poetry of birth
And the agony of loss
I remember you because I am of your body
Bloody eucharist
Feel so vulnerable
Dying inside
See me whilst i hide behind my hair
Its probably a rouse but I’m starting to love it
Theres a fire in the house
You should go to lewes
Explosions in the street
They burn the dead in my country
We have been a family this year
Not by blood
But by flow
By love
I came to the uk
Noone speaks my language
This place is home
I don’t want to leave
Let me stay
I am alone
It is dark
Are you understanding me
Is that a translation app or are you just on your phone
My husband should identify my body
Woman on woman
The smallest unit of violence
I recognise the ties that bind
Mama
We begin somewhere
Who knows where Female
Cis
Queer
Multiple sharp force injuries
Extend to the deep structures
No signs
Embarrassed by the neon lights of the club
Dancing self consciously
As edward puts on another tune
80’s no doubt
Something emotive
Followed by Plath
Standing on a chair
Forgetting the words
“Daddy, I’ve had to kill you”
The body was identified by a wristband
Transverse incised wounds
Blood and vitreous humour were taken
The bath water was heavily stained
We are growing older
Szu - the way you dance Its stunning
We’ve been drawn out by a subtle knife
Cutting through the fabric of our fears
Faces rising to the sun
Its electric
And i
The foetus
Will endure
In your stem cells
My mother is young
People think we are sisters
And in the streets
Care moves
Illusory
Through the tides of these people
That flow through the city, day and night
Mickey thats gorgeous
Szu whats wrong
I am an outlier
Alone with my cut
I’m sorry but we need to get this done Where’s
Wanyi ? Such a rebel
Alexi your’re shouting again
Let Naomi finish
I dont want them to look at me
Then why perform?
Own it
Holes, hmmm
BDSM
And the existential french
kissing me in the darkness
Do you think James was a spy?
Can we speak?
By any means possible
Face to face
.