Front & BACK gallery

with each little death - kate Bohunnis


The repossession and repositioning of a personal narrative. Remembering, repeating and working through. This repetition is not intended to anchor, but its manifestation is a reflection of cathartic empowerment.
We cannot bury our fractures, but we can acknowledge them as unexpected companions that offer us strength. Although they may be born from misfortune, they remind us gently that everything can find a new shape.

We can find ourselves bound by parts of narrative that no longer serve us. These aspects we once welcomed to provide safety, offer boundaries or assist in managing the construction of identity.
Perhaps some have stayed too long.
They have become unwilling to leave and no longer can one provide a simple division. Life together has become unsustainable and the only thing that’s left is to offer them a little death.
But treat them kindly.

Remember that they brought you warmth, they protected you in times that you needed them, for you are the one that invited them in. These are the last rites of some of my parts. I bring them out of my body and I thank them in their death.

with each little death, 2019, stainless steel, latex, cotton thread. 


feltdark

Sympathy for the feral - renuka rajiv


This work was made as part of a collaboration with Scott Lewis and Jan H Brueggemeier for the public project Nature In The Dark, shown at FedSquare, Melbourne, 2012. The project involved a set of night-time images from camera traps across National Parks in Victoria. Several artists/ groups were invited to use and respond to the beautiful material. We made a sound/ photo/ animation piece. For this exhibition at FELTspace, I am including the separate animation work that I made of the drawings soon after the exhibition. Since the exploration that I was intending to show this time didn't quite work out, I am happy to be able to share this work in Australia, where the subjects have a more acute relevance. 

Sympathy For The Feral, 2019, single channel video, 2:03