Echo
ECHO exhibition as part of the Parcours d’Artistes d’Ixelles, Belgium, 2012 with Jocelyne Coster.
“I took a risk bringing you to the studio, you might see too much. But if I showed you work in the house, it would be finished. Here the ideas could grow in a way where I could truly work with this space, experiment, show you something new, open the windows, take it out to the garden and if necessary, bury it again.”
Through Glass (2012) Slide projection: 30 slides projected onto paper sandwiched between 2 sheets of plexiglass.
I began making this work in December 2010 when snow threatened to prevent me returning to the UK for Christmas after a visit to Brussels. The images were taken somewhere in between Brussels and the UK. I have been developing this idea over some time however this is the first time it had been shown.
The idea for through glass stems from my constant interest in time and how each moment, each piece of time can be instantly lost. Train journeys for me evoke in terms of a greater speed, what in reality we experience throughout time. We are like trains cutting through the landscape of time. This writing accompanies the work:
Through Glass
The landscape lays empty, obliterated by the quietness of the snow.
It is lost in translation.
The glass separating one space from another, one time from another, holds me back.
I am spectator of this lost world.
I am part of it but it is gone, swept away by movement and distance,
shattered by time.
This is all that is left.
A selection of slides from Through Glass installation
Fragments
Images from Through glass slide projection printed on photographic paper, laminating pouches, glue, invisible thread, nails and pins
All that it left of the landscape is fragmented, transported out of the windows, close to extinction like the butterflies who carry it. Soon it will be taken down and cleared away. It will carry on only in your thoughts and in the images that will be taken. So the fragments will be made smaller and less real. Even digitally, just an echo of an echo, over time a distant memory. Sometimes to be re-lived but one day lost completely.
Jess Sutton Artist 