En Vivo y En Directo Curated by Tania Bruguera
Februa r y 28 – Ma rch 27, 2019
Camilo Godoy
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BOARD OF DIRECTORS
STAFF
ADVISORY COUNCIL
Kate Buchanan
Executive Director
Katie Cercone
Theodore S. Berger Vernon Church Marcy Cohen
Thomas G. Devine Thomas K.Y. Hsu
Steffani Jemison
Corina Larkin
Beatrice Wolert-Weese Deputy Director
Shona Masarin-Hurst Programs Director
John S. Kiely
Eva Elmore
Lionel Leventhal
Lilly Hern-Fondation
Vivian Kuan
Rachel Maniatis
Christen Martosella Aliza Nisenbaum Kyle Sheahen
Brian D. Starer Lilly Wei
Gregory Amenoff, Emeritus
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Development Coordinator Programs Associate
Polly Apfelbaum Lynn Crawford Ian Cooper
Michelle Grabner Eleanor Heartney
Trenton Doyle Hancock Pablo Helguera Paddy Johnson Deborah Kass
Sharon Lockhart Juan Sรกnchez Lilly Wei
Andrea Zittel
Irving Sandler (in memoriam)
CUE Art Foundation is a visual arts center dedicated to creating essential career and educational opportunities for artists of all ages. Through exhibitions, arts education, and public programs, CUE provides artists, writers, and audiences with sustaining, meaningful experiences and resources. CUE’s exhibition program aims to present new and exceptionally strong work by under-recognized and emerging artists based in the United States, and is committed to exhibiting work of all disciplines from living artists. Exhibiting artists are selected via a hybrid process, featuring solo exhibitions curated by established artists, alongside a series of solo and group exhibitions selected by an annual Open Call. In line with CUE’s commitment to providing substantive professional development opportunities, curators and Open Call panelists also serve as mentors to the exhibiting artists, providing support throughout the process of developing their exhibition. We are honored to work with artist Tania Bruguera as the curator of this exhibition.
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Artist's personal acknowledgements Love and endless gracias to my mother and father, Marlene Betancourt and Jaime Godoy; to my sisters, Carolina, Liliana, Marcela, and Tatiana; to Juan Diego Bolivar, Yong Shin, Jorge Sánchez, Carlos Martiel, Brendan Mahoney, Tania Bruguera, Carlos Motta, Mira Dayal, Shona Masarin-Hurst, Lilly Hern-Fondation; to Justin Allen, Sol Aramendi, Pedro Barbosa, Anna Barsan, Mariam Bazeed, Ella Boguslavsky, Ella Boureau, Caroline Brendel, Gonzalo Casals, Juliana Cope, Vivian Crockett, Kyle Croft, Ruben Davis, Susie Day, Alexandra Délano, Arisleyda Dilone, Cristina Dragomir, Jackie Du, Vered Lianne Engelhard, Verónica Flom, Erik Freer, Cassidy Gardner, Stéphane Gérard, Haley Graham, PJ Gubatina Policarpio, Miguel Angel Guzmán, John Hanning, Patricia Hoffbauer, Bill Jacobson, Elizabeth Ingwersen Mendez, Jonathan David Katz, Theodore (ted) Kerr, Chance Krempasky, Noelia Lecue Francia, Abigail Levine, Peter Lu, Gaia Lucia Lopez Barrera, Clarinda Mac Low, Eva Mayhabal Davis, Karl McCool, Eric McNatt, Lucas Michael, Asher Mones, Alejandra Morán,
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Christopher Moyer, Andy Nicolas, Aliza Nisenbaum, Kris Nuzzi, Jeanine Oleson, John Arthur Peetz, Sofía Reeser del Rio, Allie Rickard, Sur Rodney (Sur), David Rodríguez, Michael Shore, Alexa Smithwrick, Sebastian Sierra Palacios, Pamela Sneed, Michael Sodomick, Patty Suarez, Michael Tikili, Aldrin Valdez, Addison Vawters, Gee Wesley, Mason Wilson, Justin Wolf, Eric Yu; to all of the students and colleagues at the Brooklyn Museum, Brooklyn College Community Partnership, Dedalus Foundation, New-York Historical Society, and Whitney Museum; to everyone at CUE, Recess, Leslie-Lohman Museum, Coleção Moraes-Barbosa, International Studio & Curatorial Program (ISCP), Movement Research, Lower East Side Printshop, Hemispheric Institute of Performance and Politics, Queer Art Mentorship, and Visual AIDS; to the sky; and to all my friends and lovers who give purpose and delight to deviance.
En Vivo y En Directo
Camilo Godoy
One of my chores growing up consisted of buying my father the Sunday edition of Colombia’s newspaper El Tiempo. For my thirteenth birthday in 2002 my mother gifted me a video camera after she noticed my fascination with cameras at electronic stores. I recorded every aspect of my youth, including reading the newspaper on camera and capturing close-ups of the television during broadcasts of Colombia’s evening news. Together with my twin sister and two friends, we created a makeshift television studio in my father’s apartment in Bogotá. I wore a suit and performed as a newscaster by reading a script of newscasts I had transcribed. En Vivo y En Directo is an exhibition that presents footage from these early performances and various other projects that are concerned with the construction of political meanings and histories. This exhibition transforms the gallery into a television studio to live broadcast a news variety show in the form of two performances. In these performances I bring together several thinkers to challenge past and present political moments and imagine different subversive ways of being.
Camilo Godoy is an artist born in Bogotá, Colombia and based in New York, United States. He is a graduate of The New School with a BFA from Parsons School of Design, 2012; and a BA from Eugene Lang College of Liberal Arts, 2013. Godoy was a 2018 Session Artist, Recess, NYC; a 2018 Artist-in-Residence, Leslie-Lohman Museum, NYC; a 2018 Artist-inResidence, Coleção Moraes-Barbosa, São Paulo; a 2017 Artist-in-Residence, International Studio & Curatorial Program (ISCP), NYC; a 2015-2017 Artistin-Residence, Movement Research, NYC; a 2014 Keyholder Resident, Lower East Side Printshop, NYC; a 2014 EMERGENYC Fellow, The Hemispheric Institute of Performance and Politics at NYU, NYC; and a 2012 Fellow, Queer Art Mentorship, NYC. His work has been presented in New York in public space as a billboard, and at venues such as Instituto Cervantes, New York City; Danspace Project, New York City; and Mousonturm, Frankfurt; among others.
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Tania Bruguera Curator-Mentor
“We are a product of the time...” —Félix González-Torres.1 The past, the present, and the future are sites through which Camilo Godoy makes his work. En Vivo y En Directo is the positioning of memories and archives as political gestures. Audre Lorde wrote regarding the configuration of memories and history: “[m]uch of Western European history conditions us to see human differences in simplistic opposition to each other: dominant/ subordinate, good/bad, up/down, superior/inferior. In a society where the good is defined in terms of profit rather than in terms of human need, there must always be some group of people who, through systematized oppression, can be made to feel surplus, to occupy the place of the dehumanized inferior. Within this society, that group is made up of Black and Third World people, working-class people, older people, and women.”2 Godoy uses his body to rethink and remember history. His face and voice announce the news in a homemade video when he was a kid. His blood applied on paper forges the signatures of U.S. presidents who have been the perpetrators of violence. His hands touch government and cultural
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records to consider alternative narratives of the Cold War. His legs and arms move to create choreographies of tragedy and dissent. These political gestures are performances about time. A series of wall clocks—indicating the time at which different cities were stolen, destroyed, crushed, bombarded, and droned by the U.S. government— become a sense of synchronic loss. If Hannah Arendt believed that “plurality is the law of the earth,”3 in this exhibition Godoy’s activism is in full display with a thunderous call to accept plurality and difference. A call to modify and challenge traditional historical positions of enunciation.4 Memory is a tool to activate the political and to understand the world.
1 Letter from Félix González-Torres to his lover Ross Laycock, 1988, in Félix González-Torres, ed. Julie Ault (Göttingen: Steidl Verlag, 2006). 2 Audre Lorde, “Age, Race, Class and Sex: Women Redefining Difference,” in Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches (Trumansburg: Crossing Press, 1984). 3 Hannah Arendt, The Life of the Mind (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1978). 4 See Paul Preciado, Manifeste contra-sexuel, 2000.
For over 25 years, Tania Bruguera has created socially-engaged performances and installations that examine the nature of political power structures and their effect on the lives of its constituency. Her research focuses on ways in which art can be applied to everyday political life and on the transformation of social affect into political effectiveness. Her longterm projects are intensive interventions on the institutional structure of collective memory, education, and politics. Her works often expose the social effects of political forces and present global issues of power, migration, censorship and repression through participatory works that turn “viewers” into “citizens.” By creating proposals and aesthetic models for others to use and adapt, she defines herself as an initiator rather than an author, and often collaborates with multiple institutions as well as many individuals so that the full realization of her artwork occurs when others adopt and perpetuate it.
Censorship’s Freedom of Expression Award. She is also a Herb Alpert Award winner, a Guggenheim, Radcliffe and Yale World Fellow, and the first artistin-residence in the New York City Mayor’s Office of Immigrant Affairs. She participated in the Documenta 11 exhibition and also established the Arte de Conducta (Behavior Art) program at Instituto Superior de Arte in Havana. Her work has been shown in the 2015 Venice Biennale; at the Tate Modern, London; and the Guggenheim and MoMA, New York, amongst others. Bruguera has recently opened the Hannah Arendt International Institute for Artivism, in Havana—a school, exhibition space and think tank for activist artists and Cubans.
She has been awarded an Honoris Causa by The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, selected as one of the 100 Leading Global Thinkers by Foreign Policy magazine, and shortlisted for the Index on
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Studio wall with an installation study at the top of the image for the project WHO STOLE SAN JUAN? WHO DESTROYED NAGASAKI? WHO CRUSHED MANAGUA? WHO BOMBARDED BAGHDAD? WHO DRONED SANA’A?, 2018-ongoing. All images courtesy of the artist.
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Noticiero (installation view), 2002/2017. Video, sound, television set, wall mount, green wall. 10 minute loop.
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Studio wall with a black and white photograph on the right side of the image by White House photographer Abbie Rowe of United States President Franklin D. Roosevelt signing the declaration of war against Japan on December 8, 1941.
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LEFT TO RIGHT Ronald Reagan (1981-1989: AIDS, Culture Wars, Central America, etc.). Donald J. Trump (2017-: Muslim Travel Ban, Border Wall, Family Separation, etc.). From the series Everybody knows that they are guilty:, 2013 - ongoing. Human blood on paper, 11 x 8.5 inches each.
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LEFT AND PREVIOUS SPREAD Performance study of the artist dancing, 2018.
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Diplomacy, 2018. LEFT Color photograph of the artist touching a declassified CIA report from 1955 titled CONDITIONS AND TRENDS IN LATIN AMERICA and a film still from a 1955 broadcast by the Canadian Broadcasting Company of the 1949 choreography The Moor's Pavane by José Limón. RIGHT Color photograph of the artist touching a declassified CIA map from 1955 titled SELECTED STRATEGIC MATERIALS IMPORTED FROM LATIN AMERICA and a film still from a 1955 broadcast by the Canadian Broadcasting Company of the 1949 choreography The Moor's Pavane by José Limón. Archival inkjet prints, 19 x 13 inches each.
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Diplomacy, 2018. Color photograph of the artist touching a declassified CIA report from 1955 about organizations of petroleum workers in Mexico and a film still from a 1955 broadcast by the Canadian Broadcasting Company of the 1949 choreography The Moor's Pavane by JosĂŠ LimĂłn. Archival inkjet print, 19 x 29 inches.
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Dancer, Anchor, Stage Mira Dayal
While sifting through my archive of journals recently, I came across a postcard-size work that Camilo Godoy had given me on my first studio visit with him in 2015. It’s a lenticular card that shifts between two images of two identities: Godoy as a United States citizen and Godoy as Colombian citizen. The depicted passports include near-identical pictures of and information about the artist, but, as the artist indicates with the piece’s title, Global Ranking (2012): 74 and 4, the access provided by each document differs significantly. While rankings have changed since Godoy made this work in 2012, their divergence is still notable; according to the 2018 Henley Passport Index—
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which assigns scores primarily based on data collected from a global airline trade association, in addition to information on the breadth of access to other countries without a visa—United States citizenship is in the fourth tier, while Colombian citizenship is in the thirty-ninth.1 The 2018 Arton Passport Index—which similarly factors in visa requirements but additionally considers the United Nations Development Programme Human Development Index ranking of the country as “a significant measure on the country’s perception abroad”—shows a comparable ranking, with the US in the third tier and Colombia in the thirtyfifth.2
The lenticular card is a simple device—it hardly seems to be a technology. It provides a visual slippage between images while simulating depth and movement. When employed for the purpose of comparing ease of travel, or movement across borders, it becomes a poetic metaphor for something that is possible only conceptually, not in practice. Becoming a citizen—or obtaining access to spaces that have not pre-approved you or your origins—is never simple. Long before Godoy had a studio practice, he was transfixed by the news, with its representations of the spectacle and violence of nationalisms. The earliest work in this exhibition at CUE Art Foundation is Noticiero, 2002/2017, a video Godoy made while still in grade school in which he records and recites the evening news in Colombia on July 6, 2002, wearing a child’s suit. At the time, the Colombian president, Andrés Pastrana Arango—who had himself worked as a news anchor and would later become the country’s ambassador to the United States—was nearing the end of his term. George W. Bush was just beginning his first term as President of the United States; his State of the Union Address that year began, “As we gather tonight,
our nation is at war, our economy is in recession, and the civilized world faces unprecedented dangers.” Watching the news that evening, Godoy saw the War on Terror unfolding, nightscapes illuminated by blips of light whose damage could not yet be seen. His relationship to those events was not only as secondhand witness but also as narrator, one who processes, interprets, and relays information. Godoy’s voice captures the intonations of newscasters, their precise diction and grave emotional registers, even for a viewer who does not understand the spoken language of the broadcast. A companion video from the following year plays nearby on the original camcorder on which it was recorded. Shock and Awe, 2003/2018, would seem to be a simple abstraction of green and white hues if not for the voiceover, this time only the original newscaster’s voice, in English: “So there you see it… approximately five to eight minutes of an intense airstrike against targets in Baghdad. Remember, this is a city of five million people. I can only imagine what terrifying state most of those people are in.” Again focusing on the screen of the television, this moving image became fixed in Godoy’s memory and a record
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of the formal onset of the U.S. invasion of Iraq. A report from CBS News around the same time cites thenSecretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld’s position on the strategy of visual and military bombardment: "The confusion of Iraqi officials is growing. Their ability to see what is happening on the battlefield... and the control of their country is slipping away."3 Watching these pieces, one thinks of the very definitions of record: as a verb, “to register permanently by mechanical means,” “to give evidence of,” or “to cause… to be registered on something… in reproducible form”; as a noun, “something that recalls or relates past events,” “a collection of related items of information,” or “for public knowledge.”4 (The term is also frequently used in the titles of newspapers, an older form of broadcast news.) Godoy emphasizes reproduction in displaying Shock and Awe on a device that has the potential to record, play back, and overwrite. The word registration brings associations with paperwork, citizenship, and law, while evidence brings to mind crime, violence, and civil court. Mechanical provides another harsh contrast to the more subjective recall—a contrast evident in the juxtaposition of the young artist’s face and the disastrous war tactics unfolding onscreen. But where is the public in these works? Whose country is whose? The implied audience, the recipients of this record, consists of those watching the screen: a 2002 Colombian television public turned 2019 New York gallery public. In this gap of time, space, and geography, memories of these events have
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Shock and Awe (installation view), 2003/2018. Video, sound, Digital8 8mm Handycam Video Camcorder, tripod. 60 minutes.
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faded. A sense of urgency has been lost. The tug of responsibility has weakened. Yet, from a distance, this new public might realize the impact of those once-urgent events, might feel how it was to be a thirteen-year-old boy watching a war begin from a distance. To re-cord (stemming from the Latin word for heart) is to re-tell, re-hearse, re-play, re-experience.
With both of these videos, Godoy also grapples with the enunciation of language, the [in]visibility of power, the clarity of representation, and the [il]legibility of information. These themes are enriched and extended in the newer body of work on view. In Everybody knows that they are guilty, 2013–ongoing, six sheets of paper are marked by forgeries of the signatures of every president who has been in power during Godoy’s lifetime, written in human blood. What kinds of damage can be inflicted by this single gesture of authority? Whose blood is on whose hands? Seeing Ronald Reagan’s name written in blood immediately brings to mind the aids crisis, its prolonged invisibility to some and its devastating effects on others—an issue of illegibility and neglect by misinformation. Though there is only one name written on that page—the movie star signature of the highest public figure—the thin lines of blood seem to thicken as one reads. Each drawing is titled to explicitly forge such connections between the president whose signature is isolated on the page and his role in significant acts of violence (ie, Ronald Reagan [1981-1989: AIDS, Culture Wars, Central America, etc.], 2013).
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Nearby, WHO STOLE SAN JUAN? WHO DESTROYED NAGASAKI? WHO CRUSHED MANAGUA? WHO BOMBARDED BAGHDAD? WHO DRONED SANA’A?, 2018-ongoing, provides a durational reflection on a similar set of concerns; the series of clocks are hung as if to display the time zones of each of the five titular cities. While the second hand smoothly progresses around each face as expected, the hour and minute hands are stuck in different positions on each clock, indicating the moment of a historic intervention by the United States in that city. The effect is both allegorical and literal—violence affects time and space unevenly, and in some cities, time still does not (and may never) flow as it used to. The machines are out of order, frozen, signaling cities in shock. What does it mean to bear witness to destruction, and to continue to bear witness? Elsewhere, dawn turns to dusk. While we now live in a time of near-instant communication, access to power—electric or political—remains unequal and fragile. Though WHO STOLE SAN JUAN? WHO DESTROYED NAGASAKI? WHO CRUSHED MANAGUA? WHO BOMBARDED BAGHDAD? WHO DRONED SANA’A? may appear to be a sculpture, it also gestures toward performance, albeit a violently imposed choreography of arms and bodies across time and space. The title of the piece was inspired by a line from Simone Forti’s News Animations, which she developed in the mid-eighties and which Godoy saw in 2016, in which she notes, “In the U.S., we don't know the histories of the people we impact." Thinking of this inability to understand a supposed enemy—perhaps someone
across an arbitrary border, a citizen of a distinct country, separated again by time and space—Godoy was reminded of the World War I protest banners that Howard Zinn described in A People’s History of the United States, which read, “WHO STOLE PANAMA? WHO CRUSHED HAITI? WE DEMAND PEACE.” The headline style of this work’s title is modeled on those banners but reads as a protest chant even without the direct reference. Through these links, one glimpses Godoy’s relationships to dance and protest, dance as protest, dance as both origin point and ongoing backdrop to the other works in this exhibition. Dance may be seen as a mode of connection, an embodiment of information. And while dance is associated with movement, it has also retained a complicated relationship to both notation and documentation; in this light, one might consider Godoy’s video pieces to be rehearsals or re-stagings.
A more formal thread through these works is the color green—the dominant hue in Shock and Awe, the color often used in chroma key techniques for newscasting, a color associated with peace and money, nature and rot. Part of the gallery is enrobed in green, designating a spatial zone for both production and transparency. During two performances over the course of the exhibition, Godoy will stream broadcasts from the green room of the exhibition space, following a teleprompter and riffing on the subjects of the works in the exhibition, centering on the politics of each president whose signature is framed in
Everybody knows that they are guilty. Once again, the artist becomes narrator, his role being to embody, absorb, synthesize, and educate; the presence of the teleprompter in particular gestures again toward rehearsal and recall. In this role, Godoy is meant to be a messenger, delivering the truth from the frontlines to the screen in dramatic overtures. Writings about the relationships between the news, politics, and art often repeat that art cannot possibly react to the news as quickly as the morning Times; that art cannot affect change or influence current events with the same efficacy as, say, street protests, elections, or nationally televised speeches. Godoy’s embodiment of the figure of the newscaster is not an attempt to make art as effective or responsive as the news per se. Rather, it is a method of slowing down the news, allowing it to tickle the spine, to disturb the mind, to be repeated, to be fragmented and reconstructed. Alternate stories emerge. Parallel lines are uncovered. It is with this approach that one might think through the most disparate work in the show, Diplomacy, 2018, the culmination of Godoy’s research into an alternate history of modern dance, which began when he encountered the exhibition “Politics and the Dancing Body” at the Library of Congress.5 In reading about the dancer and choreographer José Limón, one of the few seminal modern dancers born in South America, Godoy became interested in the Limón Company’s sponsorship by the United States’ Performing Arts International Exchange Program, an endeavor of
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President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s State Department intended to impress upon other countries the import and strength of the United States’ cultural capital, or more explicitly “the benefits of life and art under capitalism.”6 Their sponsorship provided funds for a tour through South America in 1954 that coincided with a major UNESCO meeting in Montevideo; as scholar Victoria Phillips has noted in her research and in correspondence with Godoy, the tour was also scheduled in tandem with C.I.A. operations centered on Cold War diplomacy.7 While the degree of Limón’s knowledge of his entanglement is difficult to parse, the paucity of research on the connection suggests that the explicit ties to American economic and political interests (most notably a desire to prevent the spread of communism) were not advertised.8 Godoy’s work with the documents and photographs of the company and its travels is speculative, collaging links between people, places, and events to forge a new story about dance and diplomacy.
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1 “Passport Index,” Henley Passport Index, Henley & Partners,
10 July 2018, www.henleypassportindex.com/assets/PI_2018_ INFOGRAPHS_GLOBAL_180709.pdf.
2 “Global Passport Power Rank,” The Passport Index 2018, Arton Capital, 2018, www.passportindex.org/byRank.php.
3 Jaime Holguin, “‘Shock And Awe’ Throttles Iraq,” CBS News, CBS Interactive, 22 Mar. 2003, www.cbsnews.com/news/shock-andawe-throttles-iraq/.
4 “Record,” Merriam-Webster, Merriam-Webster, www.merriamwebster.com/dictionary/record.
5 “Politics and the Dancing Body,” Library of Congress Exhibitions, Library of Congress, 16 Feb. 2012, www.loc.gov/exhibits/politicsand-dance/index.html.
6 June Dunbar, “Jose Limon: An Artist Re-Viewed,” Jose Limon: An Artist Re-Viewed (New York: Routledge, 2002), pp. 97–102. 7 Ibid, 97.
8 Ibid, 101.
This essay was written as part of the Art Critic Mentoring Program, a partnership between AICA-USA (US section of International Association of Art Critics) and CUE, which pairs emerging writers with AICA-USA mentors to produce original essays on a specific exhibiting artist. Please visit aicausa.org for more information on AICA-USA, or cueartfoundation.org to learn how to participate in this program. Any quotes are from interviews with the author unless otherwise specified. No part of this essay may be reproduced without prior consent from the author. Lilly Wei is AICA’s Coordinator for the program this season. Mira Dayal is an artist, critic, and curator based in New York. She is the founding editor of the Journal of Art Criticism, co-curator of the collaborative artist publication prompt:, co-organizer of the email project of missing out, and an assistant editor at Artforum, where she is also a regular contributor. An exhibition of her work, "Anagen," is currently on view at Lubov in New York. In April 2019 she will present a co-curated group exhibition at CUE Art Foundation. Mentor Sara Reisman is the Artistic Director of the Shelley & Donald Rubin Foundation, whose mission is focused on art and social justice in New York City. Recently curated exhibitions for the foundation include Mobility and Its Discontents, Between History and the Body, and When Artists Speak Truth, all three presented on The 8th Floor. From 2008 until 2014, Reisman was the director of New York City’s Percent for Art program where she managed more than 100 permanent public art commissions for city funded architectural projects, including artworks by Mierle Laderman Ukeles, Mary Mattingly, Tattfoo Tan, and Ohad Meromi, among others for civic sites like libraries, public schools, correctional facilities, streetscapes and parks. She was the 2011 critic-inresidence at Art Omi, and a 2013 Marica Vilcek Curatorial Fellow, awarded by the Foundation for a Civil Society.
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CUE Art Foundation's programs are made possible with the generous support of foundations, government agencies, corporations, and individuals.
MAJOR PROGRAMMATIC SUPPORT PROVIDED BY Anholt Services (USA), Inc. Aon PLC Chubb Compass Group Management LLC The Milton and Sally Avery Arts Foundation, Inc. Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison LLP The Shelley and Donald Rubin Foundation Vedder Price P.C. New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Andrew Cuomo and the New York State Legislature
This program is supported, in part, by public funds from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs, in partnership with the City Council This project is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts
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All artwork Š Camilo Godoy unless otherwise noted. Catalogue design by Shona Masarin-Hurst. 33
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