Mousse 74
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Very few words are spoken in "Qu’un sang impur", but Pauline Curnier Jardin doesn’t spare us any visual details: with Grand Guignol humor, she intercuts close-ups of fake blood dripping down the ladies’ legs, or shameless red stains on their pressed beige skirts. Yet while the artist certainly enjoys the shock value of these off-color scenes, she choreographs them with an eye that’s satirical, knowingly theatrical, and decidedly camp.
On the occasion of his solo exhibition PAINTINGS at Vistamare in Pescara, Italy, London-based artist Polys Peslikas talks about his influences, reflects on his Cypriot roots, and discusses the importance of memory, desire, and fantasy in his paintings.
There’s some people that the world treats as if they were boys until those people decide one day they really need to be girls—are girls in some sense of the word, in some sense of gender. There’s a lot of different ways to be such a girl, although you wouldn’t know it from how they appear in books. By they I mean we, as I’m one of them.
Growing up in Cape Town, the artist’s family would trade old clothes for Xhosa baskets, and a young Igshaan Adams would do his best to weave his own using fronds from an old palm tree in their garden. He’s still weaving today, but his materials now comprise rope, steel, found fabric (including the South African flag), and beads, and the results are draped, beaded affairs that sigh like a disembodied cowl neck or a work by El Anatsui.
