Series of Collages produced as part of my university module engaging in Poetry Beyond Text: Image, Installation & Performance.
Accompanying audio to be played as you view these pieces:
soundcloud.com/guy-f-458338152/en729-final-project-audio
From the moment of birth I have only ever known injury. That has been my lived experience; quite unlike many of my peers in wider society. I am communicating but one of the infinite slithers in these serpentine strands hanging before the Fates and ask you do so with an open mind to accommodate the sometime-unaesthetically pleasing photos that will befall you. There’s no nudity beside the odd intentional nip-slip, though I found myself at times subconsciously arranging certain collage pieces to strategically obscure my nipples (I can only assume in solidarity with the feminine nudity ban currently upheld by social media platform giants). The following presents a semi-external glimpse at my disability, holding a thoroughly examining glaze at the reality of the limited function and movement of my disability. I veer around the etymology of disability at times to greater understand the implications of what ability means in society at large. Often to be able is to be more attractive and assertive. But this is rooted in perceptions. Kae Tempest astutely notes that ‘the problem with reflection is that before looking in the mirror, we compose ourselves. So what we see is what we hope to see. Before the furtive glance into the dark glass of a parked car or shop window, we have already made the face or taken the posture that we like to see. We adapt for the shock of observation. To really see ourselves requires a different approach.’[1] It was this guiding principle that dominated my praxis. I placed myself in front of the camera while directing a friend to adjust lighting, flash, position and help ‘dress’ me. (All while sipping our wine, having just finished cooking a rather eathily flavoured porcini risotto together).
Throughout this small exhibition-esque display you will hear a series of poems in tandem with each image, the transcript for which can be found toward the base of the document. I invite you to pause the audio for 07 OBSERVE COMPOSURE and hold a mirror to hand. Should this project develop further mirrors will be integrated into a physical space for this purpose and the audio will pause for a corresponding time-frame. Included are details about my personal medical history starting with scans of my uninjured foetal body, as yet undisturbed by the harming world I would soon be brought into. This is more of an experimental collection of images as I began to explore and learn the tools offered by Photoshop; I limited myself to only using this software and found myself engorging in the multiplicity of aesthetics that could be produced by clicking just a few buttons. (This has been noticeably more expansive and easier to manage than MS word previously warranted for me). I drew digital collage inspiration from Elo Marc and the content of my slam poetry from fellow youth ENabled poets on YouTube.[2][3]
created affected
Digital Collage / Visual Poem. Photoshop 2020. Content drawn from the transcript. Inspired by Yinka Shonibare’s ‘effective, defective, creative’ installation which depicted disabled foetal scans. I contrast my physical normality here with the successive collages.
straight splintrd
Digital Collage / Visual Poem. Photoshop 2020. Until the age of 14 I wore a splint to bed each night to keep my arm straight. I was also thought to be at risk of scoliosis. L: depicts my arm’s actual kink. R: I have straightened this at the cost of my spine’s appearance.
enabler
Digital Collage / Visual Poem. Photoshop 2020. The hands at the base display the difference in size between my hands due to inconsistent growth. My right hand is smaller, more turgid and doesn’t hold jewellery well. Above is the extent of my reach, note how my L raises R.
observe composure
Digital Collage / Visual Poem. Photoshop 2020. Overlaying various images aligned at the eye reflections of my visage appear both in the lampshade and about my person. This invites familiarity in a personally boundary-testing sequence. Note the prominent left side.
for use
Digital Collage / Visual Poem. Photoshop 2020. Claiming ownership of my body. I demark my scar by my armpit where the plates were implanted, the nipple – reserved for pleasure and also the material of my chain necklace. All signifiers of my current identity.
compostable
Digital Collage / Visual Poem. Photoshop 2020. The holes in the text evidences the inevitable corporeal decomposition while I proudly campaign for materials in common use to adhere to this planetary code of conduct. Packaging sourced from a local designer.
plate tags
Digital Collage / Visual Poem. Photoshop 2020. Responding to the metal that exists on my body. Both voluntary and involuntary. Seeing the plates implanted akin to the tags used to protect retail industry stock. Invites a critique of capitalism.
hooked
Digital Collage / Visual Poem. Photoshop 2020. The way I ‘hold’ things with my right hand is displayed here. Often a balanced claw with my little finger locking items into place . Because of it’s severe relative weakness even a pepper can be heavy to hold.
sinister
Digital Collage / Visual Poem. Photoshop 2020. As I developed my body naturally turned to the left to complete tasks as that was the limb with more function. The white colouring on my hairs hints toward inevitability as I age with the latin text and image focusing on that half.
pinned
Digital Collage / Visual Poem. Photoshop 2020. Suspending card from my nipple and tiling translucent layers of the image yielded a calming effect in this sequence. The armpit hairs protruding serve to complicate this, but geometrically compliment the crease above.
topping man
Digital Collage / Visual Poem. Photoshop 2020. Reducing the hues for all other colours but red gives this collage a blushed feel. Incorporating packaging materials of fashion brands and luxury perfumes sits in contrast with my nude body. Willing to affix recognition.
[1] Kae Tempest, On Connections (London: Faber & Faber Ltd., 2020), p. 13.
[2] Elo Marc (@elo_marc, 22 September, 2016), ‘Untitled Collection – Checkmate by Elo(Digital Collage), <https://www.instagram.com/p/BKpcvfThXzC/> [accessed 8 December 2020]
[3] Alex Slaney (9 March, 2019), ‘”An able disabled” – a slam poem|Alex Slaney https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OACnWz_gBIQ [accessed 7 December 2020]
Guy A. Forster-Pearce 