Providentia I

M A R T I N

H L O D I K

L E T A I N

R E B E C C A

M A R Y

B O T T O S

M A T H E W S

C U T H B E R T S O N

L I N D S A Y

J E N

H O L L Y

G R A C I E

A L E X A N D R A

B O U N D Y - C O L L I S

T U L L Y

S O M E T I M E S

M C I N T O S H

T I L D A

V I O L E T

H A R T

S I E N A

A X I A K

F U L T O N - S M I T H

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PROVIDENTIA I

Text is the framework through which we understand the world, and one another. It is the technology of knowledge, of discourse and divulgence, of relation and discernment; The jigsaw puzzle with which we construct our truth.

Providentia explores the malleability of language and the ways in which it gives voice to intangible, ephemeral postulations. It examines the materiality of the written word, and the distinctions and parallels that reveal themselves in the voices of the 14 female and non-binary artists included in the exhibition.

Providentia I took place at the Paddington Substation HOA Gallery (Brisbane, Australia) 6th April 2017. Sales from this publication go toward Women’s House, a shelter and sexual assault survivors support centre that facilitates legal, educational, and counseling services for women.

I. Love is just a container And sex is just a place for us to meet.

Extol my perfect pussy, Later gorging on Regret.

Who could marry an asymptote?

I just don’t think this kind of romance can be Natural II. I am a white flame burning alone in a dark hall.

I am the Other woman in the affair on your life.

I create you to sustain you, Without me You do not ExistNo god complex.

Ghost Emoji.

I talk myself in and off the ledge.

III. I write about things before I am finished living them yet It’s a bad habit.

I immediately sell every story Short.

You distract me from writing to tell me you want everything Smooth.

Now this poem is ridged. !

1

I see a glimpse and I know what it is.

It is the swell.

The low forming off the coast.

The greening sky and the rumble of the hills.

I sit in the car and attempt to look out the window to the side or straight ahead, rain scattering the headlights.

Soften my quivering lips.

Try to dig my nails into my skin but I have bitten them down and it doesn’t hurt.

I want sheer and simple, easy to digest, pain.

Whole. Full.

Not these gory rotting spills.

Too much. Not enough.

I want to go back and pause on the clues.

Chew them. Grind them down. Swallow.

Feel the potential in the cold snaps, the sudden change of air pressure.

The rage.

I say No Don’t worry Go have a shower.

I have weathered this storm my whole life and emerged still loving the man.

2

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

AN APPETITE OF ANOTHER

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

SPITTING OUT DIVINE COMMUNION

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES

CRUELITY AS SURVIVAL

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

SEXUALITY BUILT UPON

STRUGGLING OVER CRAWLING UNDER

TRAUMA AND FLINCHES HESITATION AND A QUIVER

3

4

You lie to me because the truth makes you vulnerable makes you soft We are taught to fear the truth and to believe it always hurts

its easier to articulate the pain of loves absence than to describe its presence and meaning we are a nation that normalizes dysfunction I dream of someone offering me the acceptance that I withhold from myself

An article online says I’m “addicted to self pity” They say I do it for attention But isn’t wanting attention one of the most fundamental aspects of being a person?

Isn’t granting it one of the most important gifts we could give?

Sexuality will be applied to young girls too soon for the sole purpose of teaching them to be ashamed

Only as a young girl could I create that I now only see in men 5

i don’t want to inhabit this body in the first place so i don’t understand why i have to consume and consume and swallow to become “strong” when i am anything but.

i don’t want to love and nurture myself and

i don’t want to love and nurture

anyone and

my body won’t let me sleep next to anyone and my body won’t let me sleep.

i exist in my own heart, and it’s raining and it won’t stop raining.

i am cold all the time now.

6

They all live in Catalonia, France, they are all so beautiful. So, beautiful. They are all born in Barcelona, born. They are running on born energy. They are born again and alive and then in their energy alive survive I am livid vivid catch up to it I life I life I life I livid life I life.

Chase. I A at it am ever so lacy ever so lacy ever so lacy, I so daisy ever so lazy, ways of seeing. So ways seeing of seeing of ways sees of ways sees me, of seeing, ways sees sees.

Easy er though way be, of so waves of see being, waves we be of other wave of wave we saying over.

Saying red rover never ever over. Saying red rover red drover, red rover. Big dead dover, red loaver, bed bother, head other, lead bread bother, over other, lover. No do nova, no do nova, nova loaver, over, no do nova. Red rover, range rover, rover rover. Roll da ray da roll do roe doe roe doe roe do roll doe ray doe ray doe ray roll da ray roll da ray roll doe ray.

Optical opaque wok okay wop op wop. Eating an apple is overwhelming, all up to the bulging side of the apple to spread your teeth up the wall to bite and take hold of the flesh of that apple and to hold it there down bite down hard good apple food. Good delicious.

Fascinating.

Very good. Oh ballooning impression zoom bloom balloon, bloomingdale. Vale dahlia dahlia vale. Poof balloon looming lumier tonal aural reality. Bless ‘em blossom bosom buddy bend bell eminent animate anti pet enter etiquette everton ether eater eaterton fetter ever so ever on, ever on is ever so.

Whence daisy ways see ways see ways see the days see the days see the days see the days seed the daisy ways see. Cherub chubby chub cherub red cherub cherub red cherub chub.

Some other guy’s droll kind of, opinion about the whole big deal. Going going gone, never too much never too little, ever so much. Pretty blossom cavernous bottomless freshly snipped lawn big vortex dripping drip drop, swirling through the air like a swarm. Copic disaster zone, soaking up the uv rainbow into your bone density. Merrily around the may pole in October. Never never over. I can because I know I can I think I can I have before.

Whenever you look at it that way it will come across in the same light and when will you ever see it any clearer, from another viewpoint, how do you accelerate, intensify, highlight the numbness and breathe new life and new approaches at the edge of reason? Not good at rhyming with the fact, in a respective orderly manner, but the topic was thoroughly explored up and all over it bulls eye. Bigger better conundrum for old times sake, for keeping forever, for when you know too much, or for when someone else knows better. I did now, yes, and no thank you, no. Many times over pedantically.

7

Map as mirror, screen as window mirrors, smoke, fog, glowing glass a potential, the known unknown Blue glow backlit expanded field, landscape becomes infinite intimate distance An audio delay of a video call to a distant close friend, the feeling when our skin touches and your words match the movement of your mouth A patch of dirt surrounded by shrubs, warehouses and unmarked buildings Blurred edges The places unreachable, unpaved roads, creeks, alleys, gullies Grey expanses Gliding past, corners and carparks, remembering I have been here before, have I been here, was this the place they have been here before, have they been here, I have never been here There is here now A feeling of home, fragmented feeling, refracted, light, a shadow on glass, gone in a moment ungraspable, yearning continues. Searching...

8

s Ss. Ss s.

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9

! ! ! !

! ! ! ! !

i don't remember much the heaviness, though i do remember that an empty honey jar their crimson cancer-ed skin

! !

! !

catching tiny fish in the creek and watching them struggle in my small hands

! !

you were a stranger to my nanna's soft hands

! ! !

to me to the whispered exchanges in the dark corners of the garden

! ! ! ! ! !

! ! in your absence you become a ghost nestled in the creases underneath my sister's eyes we imagine you slay dragons for us that you are searching

!

but you are not

! ! !

! ! ! ! !

20 years away I am looking for you in the thick black hairs that fall by my face ! but i do not know

!

!

! !

it is so cold to love

what it is to look like you

! !

to love to love

10

HE WAS NEVER A FRESH START HE WAS THE SECOND BITE INTO THE SAME PIECE OF ROTTING FRUIT THE LINGERING TOOTH MARKS OF YOUR FIRST ATTEMPT TO TASTE LOVE IGNORED AS AN ACT OF SELF PRESERVATION THE SMELL OF DECAY OVERPOWERED BY THE METALLIC SCENT OF BLOOD FROM YOUR OWN WOUNDS PICKED AT ON DAYS WITH NO DISTRACTIONS YOU CAN ONLY HAVE ONE BEGINNING

11

There is a special seat for you, I‘ve called ahead. They are starting the fires now so it’s warm when you get in. Don’t drip and dribble, you got to skip the nine circles and head straight to the source. There, you will finally meet your soul mate. Only you won’t be able to torment as you have done to those before. And when he comes for you in the middle of the night, when you are at your most vulnerable, I want you to do me a favour. Play along.

12

Dear Diary, Today I was supposed to catch up and shop with friends but instead I stayed home and I felt very guilty about this.

I switched the lights off, switched the diffuser on and breathed in the beautiful aroma of lavender, neroli and rose- a soothing and tranquil blend. I put music on softly and enjoyed the warm gentle glow of colour from the diffuser. I had a bath later and felt blissful submerged in the warm creamy water. I drank sweet spicy Chai tea and read. I had a very pleasant day but the guilt of saying no and the worry clouded my head.

I struggle to find balance between taking care of others and myself. Dear friends and my partner even tell me I need to be more selfish, to take more time for myself and focus on SELF CARE especially with my illness.

I say yes too often and find myself so fatigued. Maybe one day I will get the balance right. It truly is hard for me to say no.

I wonder if there are others like me who struggle too? Who easily care for others but are very poor at caring for themselves?

I am trying though as counter-intuitive as it seems to me, today is a step forward and I should be proud for saying no and being kind to myself.

Please be gentle.

Love, Violet.

13

1. UNTITLED by ALEXANDRA MARTIN alexandra.martin2015@gmail.com 2. BELLYACHE by GRACIE Instagram: 1000guineapigs 3. UNTITLED by HOLLY CUTHBERTSON holly-cuthbertson.format.com

4. END OF THE CLOUD by JEN MATHEWS Jen Mathews is an artist based in Melbourne. Her work explores social and political concerns through sculpture, text, video and assemblage. Her practice takes a speculative approach toward investigating themes of desire, excess, technology and architecture within a current late capitalist society. In 2016, she received First Class Honours in Fine Arts at the Victorian College of the Arts, University of Melbourne. In 2015, she graduated from the University of South Australia with a Bachelor of Visual Arts, and was the recipient of the Constance Gordon-Johnson Sculpture and Installation Prize. jenmathews.net Instagram: noshuns 5.UNTITLED by LINDSAY BOTTOS Lindsay Bottos is a photographer, writer, and fibers artist living in Baltimore. Her work focuses on themes surrounding gender, identity, and memory. lindsaybottos .com/ .tumblr.com / .etsy.com / @gmail.com 6. LOVE LETTER IV by MARY LETAIN Instagram: maryletain 7. APPLE PULL PULL by REBECCA HLODIK My name is Rebecca Hlodik, I am 24 years old, and I live and work in Brisbane, Queensland. I am an emerging spoken word and visual artist, interested in the mediums of lithography, painting, sculpture, poetry, performance, conceptual art, and paper making.

My writing is existentialist, pro-naturalist prose/rant, stream-of-consciousness usually based on the topics of biodiversity and religious metaphor. I have a blog entitled Peaceful Primitive: Eavesdropped Prayer that is being compiled for my thesis.

I was in a band called Bad Intentions that has been described on 4zzz as minimal psyche pop grunge. We have played at places like Metro Arts and IMA as well as artist-run venues including Real Bad Music (R.I.P.) and AudioPollen.

My career highlights include winning runner up for the Minister’s Award in 2009 and winning a logo competition for the Flying Arts Alliance. I am currently completing a Bachelor of Fine Arts majoring in Lithography. peaceful-primitive.tumblr.com 8. BACKLIGHT by ROMII FULTON-SMITH Romii Fulton-Smith’s art practice centers around desire, and how desire shapes our ideas of and our experience of place. Using processes of mediation and digital manipulation Fulton-Smith works with text, image, objects and video, rearranging and interfering with idealised imagery. Her practice occupies an overlap of personal experiences of desire and place with generic archetypes present in advertising and the internet. romiifultonsmith.com 9. UNTITLED by SAMANTHA AXIAK neoprenecandy@gmail.com 10. TINY FISHES by SIENA HART Utilizing the language of subversion, Hart explores simple interventions of the everyday through digitally mediated performance and installation. With a focus on outward manifestations of embodied experience, vulnerability, anxiety, and the dialogue between the real and the imagined, Hart invites audiences to challenge the architecture of their own identities, perception, and memory. sienahart.net 11. UNTITLED by TILDA MCINTOSH tildadoesthings.tumblr.com 12. UNTITLED by TULLY BOUNDY-COLLIS Born and raised in Australia tully-boundy-collis@hotmail.com 13. GENTLE by VIOLET SOMETIMES Violet is a 22 year old student showcasing her creative work for the first time. She is trying to find her voice and not let invisible illnesses silence her.

Instagram: Violet_sometimes