Sister Feb-July 2017 by sister.gallery

Contents 03 Sitterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Note 04 Introduction 06 February 18 - March 11 10 Optimal Prime Time IN THE GARDEN 11 March 25 - April 15 Lost property and woven Dialects, (yes), at their 15 very last hiding place Live Simulacra 18 April 22 - May 13 21 Subject Position Fears and Inertia 25 May 20 - June 10 28 Holding is next to knowing Gardens 31 June 17 - July 8 34 Mood 02

Sitter’s note Alex Sutcliffe Spending days adjacent to a body of work can immerse you in but also distance you from the work itself. While sitting Sister’s first round of exhibitions, I wrote these poems as a way of exploring the work from my desk. The works I’ve seen at Sister have compelled me to think through how I look at and move through the world, and I hope these responses think through how we communicate. Dominic Byrne’s Subject Position—particularly the video installation that comprised a deflated sex-doll fingering its anus and watching a stolen valour playlist and on an iPad cradled in what remained of its (the sex doll’s) arms—suggested to me how gazes and desire simultaneously reify and undermine authority. From the foyer I could hear US military men literally dressing-down civilians in uniform. I began a poem in this authoritative, masculine, military voice, but to take this voice is itself to “steal valour”. By stealing the voice of authority I hope to have suggested the way tone and mimicry enters into the performance, and subversion, of authority. Leander Capuozzo’s Gardens—a series of printed and

framed stills from a YouTube gardens compilation, presented alongside a 3D printed iDog and a chess set—recreated the atmospheric spaces we make and find online. After Gardens, I composed a cut-up from “The Best Relaxing Garden in 4K - Butterflies, Birds and Flowers 2 hours - 4K UHD Screensaver” comments section as a way of exploring how we can shatter calmness and ambience by vocalising our appreciation for it. Renee Cosgrave’s body of non-representational paintings, Mood, also explores the ambience of images, but if there is an irony here it is quiet and gentle. The idea of paintings as moods suggests, to me, a way of making private affects interpersonal. The painting “Mother and Father” seemed to me to manifest nostalgia as a mood—how our momentary affects are rooted in years, even decades, of living. Cosgrave’s paintings produce from this disjunction warmth and playfulness, which I felt compelled to explore in words.

Sister was initiated as a Fontanelle project to support an alternative gallery model with emerging artists as its ethos— enabling us as young practicing artists to be mentored in the skills necessary to be at the forefront of running a gallery that supports local, interstate and international emerging to mid-career artists.

for our Co-Directors, volunteers and exhibiting artists. Sisters’ model of operation strongly promotes collaborative ways of working within management of the gallery and in working with artists. We are focused on providing extensive curatorial and installation assistance and Sister thrives on maintaining strong relationships with the exhibiting artists. We are eager to maintain Sister is located at 26 Sixth Street, Bowden, pre- this ethos as we continue to learn from our comviously occupied by Fontanelle Gallery, and has munity and adapt to best support artists. As a adopted two large well-lit gallery spaces. These volunteer-run organisation, community and colspaces are a significant and uncommon oppor- laboration are a practical necessity but also an tunity for our artists —especially those new to incredible strength. We welcome those commitexhibiting in a solo capacity— to upscale their ted to the arts to join our team of volunteers, practices. In our first six months we have hosted we would love to learn with you. a number of community-directed events including artist talks, performances and reading and discussion groups that have focused on bringing the community together to experience and -Mia van den Bos, Ashleigh D’Antonio and celebrate the diverse practices of emerging to Grace Marlow mid-career contemporary artists. We have had an incredible response to Sister and are very grateful for the welcome and support from our local art community. We are also chuffed with the way Sister has resonated with artists from throughout Australia and overseas. Sister exhibits a range of contemporary artwork from South Australia, interstate and overseas, in exhibition, online (launching December 2017) and through a twice-yearly publication. In doing so we hope to tap into the current themes and issues that compel our next generation of artists, digesting Australian art within the context of our rapidly changing, networked world. With highly competitive rounds for limited funding and unstable short-term leases, precarity and unknowns are a constant for artists and art organisations. ARIs exist in this space and the labour becomes a part of our practice. We are interested in the way artists are shifting into unexplored terrains to adapt to our current climate; transforming their methods of making and modes of presentation materially, ideologically, politically and technologically. Our mentorship with Brigid Noone and Ben Leslie of Fontanelle Gallery and Studios is the core foundational structure which Sister has been built upon. Mentorship allows Sister to function as an experimental educational environment

A huge thanks and much love to all the artists, curators and performers involved in our inaugural six month program. Alex Degaris, Grace Marlow, Nerissa Kyle, Madison Bycroft (NL), Isabella Mahoney (VIC), Alex Perisic, Gilbert Kemp-Atrill, Lauren Abineri, Nina Dodd (NSW), Jonno Revanche, Suu-Mei Chew (NSW), Angela Carrig, Sarah Lim (NSW), Kenneth Pan (NSW), Dylan Nicholas (NSW), Athena Thebus (NSW), Tuan Pham (NSW), Will Paz Furtado (GER), Prinita Theverajah (NSW), Blake Lawrence (NSW), Talia Smith (VIC), Xiaoran Shi (NSW), Angel Robertson (NSW), Tim Lo (NSW), Kalanjay Dhir (NSW), Jesy Kenny (VIC), Drew Holland (NSW), Somayra Ismailjee (WA), Guiseppe Faraone, Sarah Faraone, Sofia Athanapoulos, Art Borce, Henry Wedd, Greta Kiss, Izabella Vozzo, Beatrice Wharldall (VIC), Dominic Byrne (NSW), Narges Anvar, Leander Capuozzo (USA), Gabrielle Noel (USA), Melissa McGrath (WA), Patricia Bordallo Dibildox (USA), Katie West (VIC), Kate Power, Liss La Fleur (USA), Anna Dunnill (VIC), Stephen Roedel and Renee Cosgrave (VIC).

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Optimal Prime Time Curated By Mia Van Den Bos And Ashleigh Dâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;antonio

February 18 - March 11

Featuring Alexander degaris-boot, alex perisic, madison bycroft, nerissa kyle, isabella mahoney, grace marlow

Photographs by Christopher Arblaster.

Featured works 1. Nerissa Kyle, 2016, Form 7 and Form A (Copper paintings), raw copper, floor varnish. 2. Grace Marlow, 2017, mass/lump, paper mâché. 3. Alex Perisic, 2017, Femfresh, thermal paper, toilet roll, matte black finish steel. 4. Alex DeGaris, 2017, With and Within, digital video, 2 mins 32 secs. 5. Isabella Mahoney, 2017, Pure Shores, found newspaper, acetate paper, sea salt, pink rock salt, water, correction fluid. 6. Madison Bycroft, Noah’s Archaeology, 2015-2017, digital video, 11 mins, 25 secs, adhesive cloth print, vinyl, cup holder, disposable cups, water cooler. 7. Nerissa Kyle, 2016, Form B and C (Copper paintings), raw copper, floor varnish, paint, hooks. 8. Alex Perisic, 2017, Only two things smell like fish, plaster, kingfish. 9. Alex DeGaris, 2017, <3, digital video, 3 mins 49 secs.

Ashleigh and I have often talked in an effort to elucidate the state of ‘nowness’, discovering a sense of what makes our historical period aesthetically and culturally singular. I guess it comes from a sense of urgency, the will to contribute meaningfully – that is, what needs to be said now and what new ways has our time allowed us to say it? The artists we have curated in Optimal Prime Time represent exciting developments and tendencies in global contemporary art, they make work that needs to be made, now. Madison Bycroft’s work is layered like the stratified rock Noah gently traces with his finger. At its deepest stratum it is philosophical, dealing with the Great questions: How do we relate to one another? And how will the world end? At its top sediment her works are funny and engaging. Noah’s Archaeology playfully champions the deconstruction of the anthropocentric worldview by questioning the conceptual boundaries between human, animal and matter. This origins of this worldview have been linked to the

Judeo-Christian Creation Story, which the story of Noah’s Ark mimics. This story of creation, destruction, and re-creation as punishment for humanities misdeeds is painfully remembered by a contemporary Noah. Noah can’t forget the last global natural disaster and as our world is on the brink of a climate crisis, he is powerless to prevent the next. Grace Marlow’s practice similarly examines the bounds between human body and other matter. Marlow is adept at creating sculptural ‘like bodies’, often out of forms and materials that engage the liveness of the body such as fruit, silicon and found objects. For Optimal Prime Time Grace has experimented with creating a full-size model, and one with attitude. Marlow uses paper mâché, a material most of us have had experience with as children, dipping crisp paper into gluggy flour-water and it coming out smooth and malleable. The work’s texture elicits tactile memories and provides a familiarity. Like the skin of someone we once knew very well but perhaps didn’t part with on the best of terms.

Alex DeGaris creates sculptures that explore the three-dimensionality of digital space. With most of us physically coexisting with equally valid online lives, this work acutely presents the visceral, tangible and bodily experience of networked existence. DeGaris’s work specifically draws upon the importance of these parallel online lives for queer youth, providing a safe place to find community, however presents this as another simultaneous closet for those who cannot be themselves physically. The nondescript bodies that multiply and morph and are severed and become one speak of the Janus-faced nature of identity on the internet. We are self-promotional and disposable, anonymous and constantly surveiled, connected, alone and scattered and whole. Alex Perisic’s work also focuses on the construction of contemporary identity, primarily constructed gender. Perisic’s work is often conceptual, presenting tongue in cheek visual puns containing strong and often political statements. For Optimal Prime Time Perisic

Isabella Mahoney’s work at first glance can seem wholly unpretentious. It could be the result of a gentle and feminine respite, possibly undertaken for self-care. However something betrays this earnestness, Mahoney’s is a singular vision that is concerned with the tension between honest and contrived forms of representation. Mahoney’s Pure Shores began as a repeated drawn motif of an abstracted ocean tide covered in floating roses, a threshold environment that encapsulates an in-between-ness between neoliberal borders and languages. The artificial roses, constructed of found newspapers, form a boundary around the seascape that is the exact size that the whole work can be taken as an Instagram photo. This consciousness of how contemporary meaning is constructed and its limitations is a key focus of Mahoney’s thinking and practice. Nerissa Kyle’s practice has recently moved away from materially-traditional abstract painting to three-dimensional expanded paintings using raw copper. Painting as a discipline, steeped in fine art tradition as it is, has taken a slower route to the ‘expanded field’ than sculpture. Works like Kyle’s form a strong juncture between established and experimental modes of painting. The forms of the Copper Paintings series mimic the distinctive facture of an expressive paint stroke or charcoal mark. The copper oxidises where it is touched, showing the marks of Kyle’s hands at work. The works brim with potential action and hold the energy of a discipline that has become a vital contemporary discipline once again. -Mia van den Bos February 2017

Poster by Mia van den Bos.

comments on the stigma surrounding female genitalia. Who with a vagina has not been made to worry about it emanating a fishy odour? And what menstruating woman has not paid $8 for a box of emergency tampons at a convenience store? Perisic’s works are as exacting as they are minimal.

Gallery 1

IN THE GARDEN February 18 - March 11 2017

By Gilbert Kemp-Atrill

Photograph by Grace Marlow.

Featured works 1. Gilbert Kemp-Atrill, 2017, In the Garden, digital video, Samsung Gear VR headset, chrysanthemums, 9 minutes.

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Lost property and woven Dialects, (yes), at their very last hiding place Curated by Nina Dodd and Jonno Revanche Featuring Angela carrig, Sarah Lim, Will Paz Furtado, Jonno Revanche, Kalanjay Dhir, Jesy Kenny, Athena Thebus, Drew Holland, Nina Dodd, Suu-Mei Chew, Somayra Ismailjee

March 25 - April 15 2017

Photograph by Mia van den Bos.

Values towards action Jonno Revanche

There comes a time in every child’s life that they realise, sometimes gradually and sometimes abruptly, that the adults in their life are not omniscient. In a subconscious way we can recognise our own smallness and vulnerability even while young and put in place instincts to protect ourselves, but it might only take a small trigger to undo a whole framework of belief. Buttons on a jacket become undone all at once, much like our faith becomes shaken from its foundations. Perhaps out of a need for self-preservation, a survival mechanism even, this attitude will be quite firmly ingrained. This belief remains stable even if your parents have not been totally successful in protecting you they might have even been the cause of danger. But I don’t think I ever had that disappointment with my grandmother for some reason. I think this is because i recognised from the fore that she never pretended to be all knowing, even if she was sometimes all doing. Despite how pedestrian or regular she might have seemed to those who do not know her, who might have judged her from the way she looks,

her insight came from a more subterranean place. She remained able and competent but never spoke down to her grandchildren, acknowledging their pure idealism. This was cemented in a succession of harsh trials and experiences within her life and an acknowledgement from the get-go that, even in her mid 60s, she didn’t know everything and never pretended to. But reaching that point ironically meant that she had already figured most things out. There was something about her tirelessness and constant attentiveness that struck me as both deeply admirable and deeply unfair even when i was young. There were different rituals that embodied this the way she could care for a child and wash them and then clothe them (this detail seems most important to me for some reason) and also the ritual of fixing torn or damaged threads. It is with hesitance that I celebrate or totally valorise this work beyond her intricately complex inner life. She is a painter, a hiker, a brilliant socialiser, a reader and sometimes inventor. But glossing over the sweat and blood that pools into the larger understanding of “women’s work” - which can extend to be seen in modern times as also femme and/or queer work - does nothing in terms of moving forward. Every time Mary will take the trousers from me that i had bought just weeks

earlier and look over them, furrowing her brow. Those initial moments of disgruntled assessment and judgement. Then come the questions. “How could you possibly have torn it here?!” These are said with a curl in her mouth, a rhetorical statement without any expectation of answer. Then she will position a small light over the piece of clothing, manoeuvre her sewing machine, put on her glasses and get to work. My grandmother is peculiar in the sense that she likes using the phrase “I don’t believe in ___” to describe something she doesn’t support or cosign. I am convinced this is a generational thing, because generally when I hear someone of my own age say “I don’t believe in ___” it is said with a propensity to mean that you have reasonable evidence to prove that it does not exist, that you genuinely have no faith in its tangibility. To hear someone say “I don’t believe in catholicism” you may rightly assume that they have had no personal contact with a divine entity. It is significantly harder to believe that bananas or rhododendrons are cultural constructions, objects that cannot be validated through collectively witnessing it and understanding its properties. Most people can acknowledge what they look like, taste like, even smell

like, and how much they generally cost at a supermarket. Their existence is not as subjective as a cultural ideology, for example. So when Mary says “I don’t think you should buy something new just because your old ___ broke. I don’t believe in it” I understand what she means. Her code of ethics remains unwavering, only becoming decentred when it absolutely needs to be, for her to adapt or to learn. But to move away from “buying” and toward “fixing” is unrealistic for most people - we have become alienated from the prospect of useful home skills and abilities, because this is encouraged by mass culture (and also, hardly any of us have time.) In her article on conscious consumption for qz.com, Alden Wicker argues that, “conscious consumerism is a morally righteous, bold movement. But it’s actually taking away our power as citizens. It drains our bank accounts and our political will, diverts our attention away from the true powerbrokers.” We believe that by creating a demand for alternatives, we can push the more toxic options out of the market, but this is extremely slow and those more harmful choices continue to exist and do their nasty work. So we need to halt or resist big corporations and gi-

ants before we rely on alternatives Wicker has some suggestions:

- Instead of taking yourself out to dinner at a farm-to-table restaurant, you could take an interest in the Farm Bill and how it incentivizes unhealthy eating.

of mindless consumption. It’s common to hear absolutionist, fatalistic statements like “there is no ethical consumption under capitalism” from people with a high falutin political investment in discussion around late society, social politics, and consumption, and I’m not exempt from this group. However, I think there’s a certain kind of hopelessness in these phrases which serves to assuage the guilt of the speaker rather than to stimulate any sort of action or offer a pathway. The flipside of these statements is that to destroy destructive structures is to create and support new modes of thinking and making. I don’t think recognising possibilities beyond complete system overhauls (which would be good but realistically aren’t going to happen next week) are silly. There is no opting out of the ethics of all choices simply because a good one does not exist yet. I feel that it’s important, firstly to understand how we can understand how much energy and resources we have as humans. How much power can we invest towards these issues and how do we distribute them intelligently and usefully, instead of giving up before we start?

A symbolic choice doesn’t necessarily have to be a useless one - it can help wake us up to the larger scale

I feel like looking at our “values”, something that Mary still holds on to, has given me a lot of perspec-

- Instead of buying expensive organic sheets, donate that money to organizations that are fighting to keep agricultural runoff out of our rivers. - Instead of driving to an organic apple orchard to pick your own fruit, use that time to volunteer for an organization that combats food deserts (and skip the fuel emissions, too). - Instead of buying a $200 air purifier, donate to politicians who support policies that keep our air and water clean. - Instead of signing a petition demanding that Subway remove one obscure chemical from its sandwich bread, call your local representatives to demand they overhaul the approval process for the estimated 80,000 untested chemicals in our products.

Photographs by Nina Dodd.

tive about the way we can head. Our ideas of the world and our value system arguably determines our actions more than political belief, which can often be superficial or performative, especially if those politics aren’t directly affecting your life and material position. Over the last few months I have been exploring these ideas with my friend Nina Dodd, an artist/videographer/ photographer, interviewing different people about their relationship to textile and clothing through memory, association and connection to people and place. I’ve begun to draw many conclusions from these interviews, like the fact that our society has shifted towards understanding clothing less as a protective, practical or necessary

thing and more about what brands can do to support “identity” or grant us class mobility or cultural capital. When we see threads as merely being embellishments, adornments and symbols as much as they are intricate carriers of memory, where the source is compromised or unrecognised, we enter into a mandate with a consumer mentality. And it doesn’t feel satisfying to define your personhood or importance based totally on your sartorial or aesthetic choices. My grandmother has developed these attitudes simply by being poor for a good deal of her life, but also by sticking by her values and beliefs, and thus her abilities. Ideas of “coolness” are totally alienating to her and foreign to her, and one big issue we

agree on is how these cultural ideas of certain styles simply encourage us to revert back to more traditional ways to thinking. Rather than reinforcing ideas of “identity” and how what we wear defines our worth and importance, pulling back from those notions and centring our values around gratitude and mindfulness may encourage us to view consumption as part of a larger framework. Nina and I realised that the most substantial or interesting things about clothes were how the motifs, materials or conditions of its making inspired greater conversations about culture or memory. For now, i’m still developing my thoughts, but i think a shift away from “coolness” could really open up greater, more sophisticated understandings of consumption and how to value physical objects.

Featured Works 1. Angela Carrig, 2017, Untitled, garment dyed with pine needles, staircase plinth, blue acrylic paint. 2. Sarah Lim, Kenneth Pan, Angela Carrig, Dylan Nicolas & Tuan Pham, 2017, Exhibition wardrobe, various designer garments, dowel, chain, coat hangers, lightbox. 3. Will Paz Furtado, 2017, she is the catalyst for her own reinvention, matte paper under glass. 4. Jonno Revanche, 2017, Para Hills Princessa, projection onto fabric paper. 5. Interview reel directed and produced by Nina Dodd and Jonno Revanche, as the result of discussion with Prinita Theverajah, Blake Lawrence, Talia Smith, Xiaoran Shi, Angel Robertson and Tim Lo. 6. Kalanjay Dhir, 2017, splinter, embroidery on shirt, vest, rock and paper. 7. Jesy Kenny, 2017, untitled, hand woven belt. 8. Athena Thebus, 2016, MISS DIVINITY ‘16, printed Sherpa blanket, chain, leather. 9. Drew Holland, 2017, I Am I’ll Be, print onto fabric paper. 10. Nina Dodd, 2016, The Red Dawn Jelly of Geyrons Dream, c-type print. 11. Suu-Mei Chew, 2017, Woman-Demon-Human, photographic installation with cheongsam and artist’s hair. 12. Jonno Revanche, 2017, Fully realised, print on satin. 13. Somayra Ismailjee, 2017, Dissonance, skirt modified to shawl. 14. Nina Dodd, 2016, Stalker, c-type print.

Gallery 1

Live Simulacra By Beatrice Wharldall

March 25 - April 15 2017

Photographs by Beatrice Wharldall.

Featured Works 1. I’d Be a Whole Lot Less Confused if Only I Could Stop All This Thinking, acrylic on PVC, mirror, 89 x 121cm, 2016. 2. Yes I’m Comin to the Party But I Don’t Wanna Be (Your Life is Yours, It Fits You Like Your Skin), acrylic on PVC, iPad, video, 89 x 121cm, 2016. 3. Small, Confused and Neurochemically Unstable (Calm Down), acrylic on PVC, mirrors, 89 x 121cm, 2016. 4. Trump in the Cloud with Big Data, oil, acrylic and mixed media on canvas, 61 x 91.5cm. 5. Sent & Seen, acrylic on canvas, 61 x 91.5cm. 6. Fiddle Leaf, PVC, electrical wire, wood, clay, iPhone screen, ceramic, soil, dimensions variable. 7. Walking Falling Scrolling, oil, acrylic and mixed media on canvas, iPad, video, 61 x 91.5cm. 8. Neat, Cat Meme, oil and acrylic on canvas, 61 x 91.5cm. 9. For Liz, oil on canvas paper, 29.7 x 42cm. 10. Monstera Deliciosa (Franklin), PVC, wire, wood, ceramic, soil, dimensions variable. 11. Friday Desktop, oil and acrylic on canvas, 61 x 91.5cm. 12. Colonial Capitalism on the Road!, oil and acrylic on canvas, 61 x 91.5cm.

Live Simulacra (fake living?) Beatrice Wharldall Beatrice Wharldallâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s work is concerned with the internetâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s impact on the way we see the world around us. Her latest body of work critically responds to image saturation in 21st century visual culture. Referencing symbzols from life and digital media, political coverage to personal iPhone snapshots, memes, memories, social media interface, eBay listings, and other peculiar images typically unearthed during a late night web-surf, the paintings in Live Simulacra pull together fragments of found imagery as they arise throughout the course of the painting process. Translated into paint, these ubiquitous images can be considered from an atypical distance, allowing us to look from a new perspective at the disparate and overwhelming spectrum of visual stimuli we sift through unseeingly every resentation and simulacrum. day. Live Simulacra asks us to examine what we can really see in the symbols that pervade our everyday life. Brought together, and split from their context, can we make sense of these images in a way that allows us to make sense of it all a bit better? Life is abstracted by the precession of simulacra, Baudrillard opined in 1981. Now, as our everyday existence is increasingly assisted by technology, Live Simulacra considers the relationship between our experience of living, and our experience of life filtered through digital rep-

-Beatrice Wharldall is a recent graduate of the Victorian College of the Arts, where she studied painting up to 2016. Based in Melbourne but born in Adelaide, her art practice has been fostered and expanded by mentor, Adelaide ceramicist Liz Williams. Her work has been exhibited at RMIT Design Hub, George Paton Gallery, and Margaret Lawrence Gallery, and her graduate exhibition work was recently shown at Metro Gallery. This is her first solo

show. Her practice explores the dichotomy between the personal and the globally networked, and is amplified by juxtaposing fast, contemporary, digital sensibility with the slow pace and materiality of painting. Through painting, her work attempts to navigate the confusion of being lost in the internet era, and the poignancy of trying to find oneself amid infinite other lives, sights, and thoughts.

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Subject Position

April 22 - May 13 2017

By Dominic Byrne

Photographs by Christopher Arblaster.

Featured Works 1. Neil, welded steel, scalloped fishnet fabric, prosthetic nipples, spray paint, Nike socks, Nike Air Monarchs, costume jewelry, 2017, 862 x 720 x 1040mm 2. Alien vs. Predator, multi-display video installation, 2017, 8 mins 17 secs 3. Untitled, towel, 2017, dimensions variable 4. A DISCIPLINARY PROJECT, house paint, 2017, 5750 x 257 mm 5. Stolen Velour, love doll, Vaseline, ring, foam, spray paint, arrow shafts, iPad, 2017, dimensions variable 6. Frosted Tips, Remy hair extensions, bleach, signed Lance Bass photo, glass, PVC wood glue, hair gel, 2017, 650 x 1000 x 4 mm

No Poet Has Ever Served in the US Military (After Dominic Byrne’s Subject Position) Alex Sutcliffe ATTENTION I’m going to ask you to step out of your vehicle, my uniform, my posture. ATTENTION My suspicion was aroused at mess this morning. That’s how come I knew to delete my old porn and make room on my phone for this poem— in my pants for this monument to your dishonour. ATTENTION Explain to me, private, how come you’re out in public. Explain to me, private, how come you’re playing a scrawny loser like you instead of harassing a scrawny loser like me. Explain to me, private, how come when I bark ATTENTION your body goes taut— don’t tell me its training. I can see the terror pouring from your forehead and the band of your off-brand beret. ATTENTION I’m breaking into your home front, buddy. It’s reverse guerrilla warfare in here— civilians hiding in plain sight but not plain clothes, and anyone could pin a medal to his breast, an order on the wind— ATTENTION

One

The year is 2035 and we lost. The reader is finally dead. Your inheritance is PayPaled to a terrorist organisation in New Canada. Being off the market helps you acknowledge your yeast infection. The pharmacist is not familiar with protocol. You wear your post-post-humanist sensibilities on your sleeve and an officer arrests you. The broadcaster asks if you could scream a little slower.

TWO

Consider the men who want to upload their consciousness to the internet. Disgusting. You think, this is all Bertrand Russellâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s fault. You think, everything is Bertrand Russellâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s fault. You want something that resembles intimacy. You want something that resembles anything. Outside something drips from the streetlights.

THREE

A new image is delivered to spur us into action. The people overthrow their government. Your addiction to possessive pronouns is retained. You feel sexy imagining yourself as the negation of an individual, free from synthesis.

FOUR

What was the last substance you pushed your fingers into? We are always reverting back to something animal. The object of your conviction begs for you through a dim-lit screen. The time difference situates itself in your throat. You calculate your phone bill. Your love, magnificent and hairless, is ossified in pixels.

FIVE

Your heart is sticky in all the wrong ways. Every historical moment has been leading to this. You feel powerful. You feel like you can do anything. You pull the plug.

SIX

The young poet makes some aesthetic considerations. The young poet considers these aesthetic considerations.

SEVEN

It all makes sense, or enough of it anyway.

New Predictions, by Tahlia Chloe

Gallery 1

Fears and Inertia By Narges Anvar

April 22 - May 13 2017

Photographs by Christopher Arblaster.

I have long been intrigued by the importance of personal stories within a life, by our emotional memory related to experiencing the world, and the potential for change and transformation that lies within us as we come to understand, assimilate and overcome such experiences, to then integrate them into our story. The notion that â&#x20AC;&#x153;humans are storytelling organisms who, individually and socially, lead storied livesâ&#x20AC;? places narrative as intrinsically and intricately embedded within the individual,

within our lives, our existence, experiences, perceptions, identities and even our being. We are the culmination of all that we are, emotional vessels of experience. In Fears and Inertia, Iranian born Narges Anvar invites us to immerse ourselves in a metaphorical emotional space, resonant with visual, auditory and emotive storytelling that she has channelled and interpreted from some of her most private and difficult experiences and memories, inspired by her challenges and concerns as an

artist, a mother and a human being. As living beings in environments of near perpetual motion, it can be said that we are always in a state of (physical) change, of growth and even evolution. Yet our inner world can sometimes become stuck, looped, blocked, inert, conditioned through fear, restricting our capacity to act, to function, and to be in the outer world. These impositions or boundaries that we place upon our emotional selves can have very real repercussions within our lives.

Fears are often inherited, either handed down through social, cultural or personal means, or acquired through negative experience. In more severe cases, fear and inertia can paralyse, impair or debilitate. Within the realms of human emotion, experiencing a state of inertia, or the inability to act, move or change, is often related to an underlying fear. Within the qualities of being inert or of an inert object, Inertia embodies properties of apparent stillness, isolation from the outside, a freezing. Yet when faced with their causes, the feelings bubbling within can be anything but. Confronting fears, expressing, sharing, and understanding them provides great opportunities to become unstuck, allowing otherwise anchored feelings to be revisited or changed, something that Narges actively pursues in her practice through the medium of expressive and intuitive drawing. I have had the pleasure of working with Narges in the past and strongly resonate with the way that she explores her inner world in her work. As an artist and young mother from a culturally diverse background, Narges spends much time at home, raising her young boy. She describes her engagement with art making as being limited in time and in space in which to practice, a very real and human concern, a constraint which can influence and define how one approaches making art. When approaching drawing, Narges relates that she seeks to avoid control, to allow flow and better explore the nebulous realms of feeling that demand to be let out. She searches through her emotions, between memory and imagination, layers in her personality and her feelings. Narges admits to not fully understanding the work while making it, linking to a process of allowing, something organic and intuitive whereby the feelings and memories focused upon emerge on their own. Lines come first. There is no planning, as she pressures herself to remain as free as she can be. As she vacillates between memory, insecurities, imagination and the translation of difficult experience channelled into her own expressive visual language,

Narges seldom relies on illustrative or narrative paradigms in her compositions, working in continuous lines through trains of thought-feeling, channelling feelings such as anger, desire, fear, and pain in often raw and communicative ways. The space that Narges has softly intervened in and adorned with her works emulates the multilayered nature of our inner emotional worlds. It features a soundscape of her motherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s voice reciting a story in Persian; an installation of large paintings, titled Daffodil, which is the meaning of the artistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s own name in Farsi; and is layered with numerous small drawings staggered along its walls. The artist has inscribed markings, lines and shapes, in pencil and black paint, straight on to the gallery walls, a section of which features an imposing painted black silhouette that creates a sinewy outline running askew from floor to ceiling, stark and somewhat menacing against the white of the space. These painted wall elements are reflected within the small drawings themselves, linking the space to the expressive works and the structural and emotive

mark-making they contain. All the same size, the edges of the small drawings are sharp against the vast whiteness of the gallery walls, yet seem at the same time to blend their boundaries in, or emerge from them. Like small floating private windows that invite us to look closer, linked one to the other in their giving the sense that we are within something greater, a space within a space. The drawings themselves are like scenes from a dream, piecemeal, incomplete, seemingly messy yet precisely drafted and focused, their protagonists engaged in mysterious actions. One can get lost in the continuous lines and expressive textural brush marks, not knowing up from down, or able to make sense of the events contained within, yet each leaving one with a distinct emotional impression. Some of the forms and figures that emerge in these works seem to possess at first glance a nightmarish quality, something out of reverie, surreal bodies, incomplete, faces sometimes twisted or gnarled, the outlines of a face, an arm,

a hand, a profile, their features grinning, crying, in the throes of emotion. These bodies are juxtaposed with forms, lines, small black geometrical shapes and subtly and at times more liberally applied washes of colour which enhance emotional expression, often complemented by an intuitive use of negative space that define their outline and character. The clustered installation along one wall of three paintings titled Daffodil is a self-portrait, one that creates a bold presence in the space. The title poetically references both the meaning of Narges’ name and the infamous myth associated with the same flower, otherwise known as Narcissus. Three personalities seems to be cast alongside one another, each with their own offset frame, yet linked through their placement. A seemingly feminine silhouette, elegant and graceful, bearing a single eye who’s expression is one of concern, perhaps anger or grief; the smiling, tear-stricken features of a person whose rictus could be one of madness, sadness or even despair; and a floating, or perhaps falling, abstracted figure that seems to be in pain, bearing a small child on its back. All three could be reflections perhaps of the artist’s perception of herself, as Narges speaks of the characters in her work as reflections of her, inspired

by real and imagined experience and people. Some feelings, she admits, are too painful to speak about. Many are of her mother, Zahra Ahmadi, and the difficult, unjust experiences she has had to live, passed on to Narges through stories. In a sense, as many an empathic heart can, Narges carries her mother’s wounds, as well as her own, attempting to sift through these feelings by making work, concentrating her emotions onto the page, confronting and allowing them to live outside of herself. Narges’ mother has for a long time worked in children’s literature and herself writes stories, working towards publishing them in Iran. Herself a (visual) storyteller, the emotional ties the artist shares with her mother are not only seen through some of the drawings but also pervade the space through the sound piece of her mother’s voice reciting in Farsi a story of her own writing. The story she relates speaks of colours within a page, one of which decides to break out of the frame to see what is beyond. Inspired by the colour Red’s bravery, other colours follow until they are set free from the boundaries and constraints that they had been given. This work provides overarching link to everything that the space contains, forming another

dimension beyond the two-dimensionality of drawing or the three-dimensions of space, into a fourth which is emotional and emancipatory. For better or for worse, we are often defined by our own stories, in the eyes of others as much as our own, whether fictional, imagined, or all too real and painful. Transcending such stories, where they impair rather than uplift, is a common challenge on our path for growth and healing. For many of us, there can be tremendous challenges in expressing their intricacies, making sense of them, filled as they are with the experiences, perceptions and emotions that make a life and are the culmination of all that we are. Our inner landscapes are private amalgamations of our trajectories through the world, a most sacred space shared often only by invitation. And it is in their expression and eventual sharing that we both connect to others in the most meaningful ways and are provided with our greatest opportunities for change and transformation. André Lawrence

Featured works

25. Untitled 22, 2015, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

1. Untitled 1, 2015, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

26. Untitled 23, 2017, ink, watercolour and pencil on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

2. Untitled 2, 2016, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 3. Untitled 3, 2017, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 4. Untitled 4, 2015, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 5. Untitled 5, 2016, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 6. Untitled 6, 2016, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

27. Untitled 24, 2015, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 28. Untitled 25, 2017, ink, watercolour and pencil on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 29. Untitled 26, 2015, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

7. Untitled 7, 2016, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

30. Untitled 27, 2016, ink and acrylic on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

8. Untitled 8, 2016, ink and acrylic on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

31. Untitled 28, 2016, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

9. Untitled 9, 2017, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

32. Untitled 29, 2016, ink and acrylic on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

10. Untitled 10, 2016, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 11. Untitled 11, 2015, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

33. Untitled 30, 2016, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

12. Untitled 12, 2015, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

34. Untitled 31, 2016, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

13. Untitled 13, 2016, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 14. Untitled 14, 2016, ink, acrylic and pen on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

35. Untitled 32, 2016, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 36. Untitled 33, 2017, ink, watercolour and pencil on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

15. Untitled 15, 2015, pencil on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

37. Untitled 34, 2016, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

16. Daffodil 1, 2015, acrylic and ink on canvas, 83 x 91.5cm.

38. Untitled 35, 2016, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

17. Daffodil 2, 2015, acrylic and ink on canvas, 83 x 91.5cm.

39. Untitled 36, 2016, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

18. Daffodil 3, 2016, acrylic and ink on canvas, 83 x 91.5cm.

40. Untitled 37, 2016, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

19. Untitled 16, 2016, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 20. Untitled 17, 2016, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 21. Untitled 18, 2017, ink, acrylic, pencil and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

41. Untitled 38, 2016, ink and acrylic on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 42. Untitled 39, 2015, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 43. Untitled 40, 2016, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

22. Untitled 19, 2016, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

44. Untitled 41, 2015, ink, acrylic and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

23. Untitled 20, 2016, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

45. Untitled 42, 2016, ink on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

24. Untitled 21, 2015, ink, watercolour and pencil on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

46. Untitled 43, 2017, ink and acrylic on board, 14.8 x 21cm. 47. Untitled 44, 2016, ink and watercolour on board, 14.8 x 21cm.

Gallery 0

Holding is next to knowing Curated By Melissa McGrath Featuring Liss LaFleur, Patricia Bordallo Dibildox, Kate Power, Anna Dunnill, Katie West

May 20 - June 10 2017 Photographs by Melissa McGrath.

Feel your body as you move past the white walls, through projected light and closer to each object. You carry traces of your past here with you today. Anna Dunnill’s Altar Piece and To puncture, to pierce are concerned with that which is not easily shaped into words or narratives. Movements and creases form far better monuments to your battles than stone. What do you want? Patricia Bordallo Dibildox’s I Know What I Want, I Want What I Know riffs on her experience growing up as a Person of Colour in the United States of America. These vinyl-enveloped balloons were a mainstay of her childhood in Mexico. Generally emblazoned with Disney cartoon charac-

ters, these versions stand testament to the daily experiences of racism and internalised racism that has shaped her identity. Grapple with ideas, manoeuvring your understanding to fit alongside your being. Kate Power’s Found Wanting draws your eye from the micro to the macro of the process of feeling your way through. There is something of a breakthrough explored here through scale. From self-consciously making motions, aware of each part of your body, to that moment when you find yourself fully immersed in the material, the concept. Where do you fit? Katie West’s Decolonist celebrates the role of meditation in the process

of creation and recognition of place. With gentle guidance, she brings attention to suppressed histories, and demonstrates what processes of reconciliation and decolonisation could be. Like pieces of a puzzle, you unearth words to articulate, just that. Liss LaFleur’s Tips witnesses an intimate collaboration between mother and daughter to form Mina Loy’s Aphorisms on Futurism. Bare hands order, exchange, piece together a series of maxims which designate the feminine body as a site of political resistance, learning, creation and sharing. Where do you go to now?

Melissa McGrath

featured works 1. Anna Dunnill, Altar Piece, linen, wool, embroidery floss, stones, 2017, 150 x 200 cm. 2. Anna Dunnill, To puncture, to pierce, HD video, 2017, 6:48 min. 3. Patricia Bordallo Dibildox, I Know What I Want, I Want What I Know, vinyl, balloons, 2017, dimensions variable. 4. Katie West, Decolonist, HD video, 2016, 7:00 min. 5. Liss LaFleur, Tips, HD video, acrylic nails, perspex holders, longettes, 2016, dimensions variable, 60:00 min. 6. Kate Power, Found Wanting, HD video, 2016, 19:35 min.

Gallery 1

Gardens

May 20 - June 10 2017

By Leander Capuozzo

Photographs by Leander Capuozzo.

Leander Capuozzo (b. 1994, Staten Island) is a multidisciplinary artist currently living and working in New York City. In 2014 while studying at the School of the Art Institute Chicago (SAIC), Leander co-founded the art space Hidden Dog which has hosted internationally renowned musicians and artists. Leander often works closely with other artists while creating work; in 2015 he created a project with painter Joe Grillo (of Dearraindrop), working collaboratively on paintings, drawings and sculptures in a week of intense production. His current project 1 (800) BAD-DRUG is a collaborative exhibition and performance space in various locations across New York. Leander is focused on mining a variety of visual cultures including user generated images, pop media and processes of figuration, producing a flow content oscillating between original and remix. When organized and presented in his artworks, these materials speak meaningfully to an audience that is interested in discovering a maximal flow of information, a meaningful relationship with contemporary society, and a new vision of a possible future. Capuozzo has exhibited at Hammer Museum (LA), Flanders/Lump Gallery (NC), Motel Gallery (NY) and has created work for the collection of Sofia Coppola.

The Best Relaxing Garden in 4K - Butterflies, Birds and Flowers 2 hours - 4K UHD Screensaver - Comments (After Leander Capuozzo’s Gardens) Alex Sutcliffe

i cant open my moth it hurts so bad i fell asleep listing the birds the mornings my mouth you her on my S8 you care on my S8 my mouth didn’t hurt

all kidding aside put my dog to sleep help me focus I can’t understand why anyone would remember on my S8 i can stay calm during stress on my S8 its all thxs 2 you

Keep up the great work. Who ever done this made me want to cry many flowers when I listen to wunderschöne Musik Plants protest on my S8 the birds were plentiful on my S8 I have 6 birds on my S8 I was living on 880 acres up n the high country

I have no wrds 2 say 2 all that lives that r left with all the devastation & death from storms & your choice of birds! i fell asleep listing She woke up my mouth a beautiful artist who has a wonder full taste in nature so beautiful it made me want to cry and visit with eternity

on my S8

Featured Works 1. Leander Capuozzo, shift, 2017, inkjet print, 20 x 14cm, framed 47 x 38cm. 2. Leander Capuozzo, city, 2017, inkjet print, 20 x 14cm, framed 47 x 38cm. 3. Leander Capuozzo, fountain, 2017, inkjet print, 20 x 14cm, framed 47 x 38cm 4. Leander Capuozzo, bench, 2017, inkjet print, 20 x 14cm, framed 47 x 38cm. 5. Leander Capuozzo, table and chairs with chess set, 2017 6. Leander Capuozzo, road, 2017, inkjet print, 20 x 14cm, framed 47 x 38cm. 7. Leander Capuozzo, memory, 2017, inkjet print, 20cm x 14cm, framed 47cm x 38cm. 8. Leander Capuozzo, invert 1, 2017, inkjet print, 20 x 14cm, framed 47 x 38cm. 9. Leander Capuozzo, rising, 2017, inkjet print, 20 x 14cm, framed 47 x 38cm. 10. Leander Capuozzo, reproduction no. 1, 2017, 3D print, 40 x 45 x 50cm. 11. Leander Capuozzo, invert 2, 2017, inkjet print, 20 x 14cm, framed 47 x 38cm. 12. Leander Capuozzo, another day, cloudy memory, 2017, ink on canvas, 1 x 1m. 13. Leander Capuozzo, flame, 2017, inkjet print, 20 x 14cm, framed 47 x 38cm. 14. Leander Capuozzo, gardens, 2017, 10 inkjet prints, 21.59 x 27.94cm. 15. Karlos Moran, Uninhabited Landscapes, 2017, audio, runtime 00:50:10.

>Most Serene Gardens Compilation [HD], run time 11 minutes 23 seconds. My room off a hallway in New York City, my life in seven by ten feet. 5:45 am re- turned from shift downtown. Adderral loosening its grip on my muscles. Related video, Most Beautiful Gardens [Europe]. Take a trip. Runtime 6 minutes 8 seconds. My grandmother would plant bulbs in the spring.

>Have you ever been to Versailles? No but I did visit the Tiergarten in 2010but more firmly set in my memory, the soviet memorial at Treptower park. I read a joke today about the communist with their eyes on the horizon, refusing to look back at their past failures. Or Gorlitzer where we would buy weed.

>This garden is a mystery to me but I come here sometimes to check on the dog. And to see if they got me checkmate.

Gallery 0 June 17 - July 8 2017

Photographs by Christo Crocker.

Mood

By renee cosgrave

Renee Cosgrave is a Melbourne-based artist born in New Zealand of Irish, Scottish and Māori descent of the Ngāti Tūwharetoa iwi. Recent exhibitions include: Project 17: Radical Immanence, Anna Pappas Gallery, Melbourne, 2017; The Hunch, Incinerator Gallery, Melbourne, 2016 (collaboration with Merryn Lloyd); Flow, Station, Melbourne, 2015 (solo); Cutting Mirrors, organized by Trent Walter, Negative Press with Elizabeth Newman, C3 Contemporary Art Space, Melbourne, 2015; painting, TCB, Melbourne, 2014 (solo) & Canvas-Board Paintings, flake, Melbourne 2014 (solo).

Mother and Father (After Renee Cosgrave’s Mood) Alex Sutcliffe

paint the childhood I / opened on a nail from memory paint childhood fades a death rough patch where the cracked scab got picked back

paint flakes from old rooms’ walls and wounds but how to render lost skin in this sticky gush of red / I opened

Featured Works 1. Untitled, 2014, oil on linen, 46 x 61cm 2. Light Colours (Zinc White), 2015, oil on linen, 71 x 102cm 3. They Reflect The World, 2017, oil on linen, 122 x 102cm 4. Black Painting (Transparent Colours), 2016, oil on linen, 41 x 36cm 5. Lines, 2017, oil on linen, 122 x 102cm 6. Cleaning Brushes, 2014, oil on canvas, 183 x 117cm 7. Light Colours, 2015, oil on canvas, 122 x 91.5cm 8. Mother and Father, 2016, oil on linen, 122 x 102cm

Gallery 1

Interference

June 17 - July 8 2017

By Stephen Roedel

Photographs by Emma Northey.

Stephen Roedel is a recent graduate of the University of South Australia Honours program and is a recipient of the John Christie Wright Memorial Prize for painting. Roedelâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s paintings are a way of realising the same sort of spaces created in his work as a sound designer working on projects ranging from interdisciplinary collaborations and installations to commissions for video works. His work as collaborator has been selected in several Art and Film festivals, most recently at the 2016 ReThink Digital Art Festival in Rethymnos, Crete.

Featured works 1. The appearance of disappearance, 2017, acrylic on pine panel, 29 panels at 20 x 20cm. 2. Generation Loss A, 2017, acrylic on canvas, 2.14 x 1.93m. 3. Generation Loss B, 2017, acrylic on canvas, 2.14 x 1.98m. 4. Generation Loss C, 2017, acrylic on canvas, 2.14 x 1.95m. 5. Generation Loss D, 2017, acrylic on canvas, 2.14 x 1.95m. 6. Interference, 2017, moving image by Emma Northey, sound by Stephen Roedel, digital video projection, dimensions variable, edition of 3.

GINORMOUS THANK YOU Brigid Noone and Ben Leslie of Fontanelle Gallery and Studios. We are so grateful for your endlessly generous support and mentorship. Renewal SA for the fantastic building that houses Sister and Fontanelle Studios Bowden. Helpmann Academy for supporting our mentorship with Brigid and Ben. The City of Charles Sturt for supporting our exhibition and events program. Thank you to Arlon Hall for managing the studios and always being a helping hand. Thank you to Ursula Halpin and Christian Lock for helping kit us out during set-up. THANK YOU AND LOVE The DONORS TO OUR GOFUNDME CAMPAIGN Jon Santos, Jemma Rowe, Seira Hotta, Matthew Smith, Eleanor Scicchitano, Becci Love, David Simmons, Jenna Hawkins, Jemma Van den bos , Elvis Richardson, Sue Cato, Jennie and Elmer Van den Bos, Joan Boylan, Erik Brasse, Simone Champion, Kate Power, Stefanie van Gerven, Lauren Boxhall, Gail and Keith Hocking, Sophie Corso, Steph Fuller, Alison Coppe, Patrick Heath, Ana Obradovic, Derek Sargent, Vivian Cooper, Amelia Kinsman, Judy Parham, Keith Pout , Dianne & Malcolm Burgan, Rachel Hurst, Natalie Schwarz, Celeste Aldahn, Gilbert Kemp Attrill, Jo Kemp, Bruce Thomson, Rhen Soggee, Geri Cook, Sarah Faraone, Liz Nowell, Emile Pearson, Florentina Pergoleto, Heidi Kenyon, Matt Brougham, Elyas Alavi, Makeda Duong , Arlon Hall, Emma Marie Jones, Patricia Bordallo Dibildox, Max Callaghan, Ray Harris, Mark Kimber, Brad Lay, Grant Nowell, Leah Jeffried, Lydia Heise, Andrew Purvis, Christine Pout, Simon Loffler, Susan Richardson, Christeen Tenni-Smith, Jasmine Crisp, Sue Kneebone, Jane Skeer, Jemma Seyfang, Gemma Jordine, Matthew Bradley, Donna & John Dâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Antonio, Mike and Mandy Seyfang, Lauren Abineri, Karen Meredith, Sanja Grozdanic, Ashleigh Whatling, Ceridwen Ahern, Rhys Williams, Kate Moskwa, Nicholas Linke, Jessica Day, Travis Cook, Beth Shimmin, Stephen Attrill, Annisa Carstensen, Deborah Prior, Melissa McGrath, Cassie Thring, Jenna Pippett, Rebekah Cole, Luke Wilcox, Zoe Brooks , FELTspace Inc, Reb Rowe, Serena Wong, Rayleen Forester, Alice Campbell , Anne Stevens, Eleanor Amor, Julie Reed Henderson , Grace Mitchell and Julia McInerney. SISTER IS Mia van den Bos, Ashleigh Dâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Antonio (Directors), Grace Marlow (Gallery Manager), Jon Santos, Sophie Corso, Alycia Bennett, Annika Burnside, Chelsea Farquhar, Alex Sutcliffe, Soon Tran, Matthew Smith, Cecilia Tizard, Lillian Deacon, Drew Martin, Marni Shanks, Greta Wyatt, Jemma van den Bos and Jane Skeer. Document design by Annika Burnside.