Pelecanimimus

pelecanimimus, 2013 watercolour & gouache on watercolour paper

on breath and breathlessness, or, how to disappear politely

Something I wrote for an experimental writing class back in 2010 that I think is kind of okay. I wrote it to compliment some drawings I exhibited the previous year. 

How to disappear politely and never be found

My curtains are stealing all of the oxygen from my room.  I know they are.   I know because they tell me so in a voice used ever only for secrets and truths.  Breathe in.  Now (breathe in) Hear it?  When they tell me they sound just like that, like things being taken away, and plans being drawn up and sleep sleep sleep.  My curtains don’t realise that this is not okay.  That when I wake and I’m alone and I’m dark, dark blue and gasping and laughing, they don’t realise that this is their fault and that this is not okay, that I have to meet somebody for lunch tomorrow.  

Sometimes it’s my hands, other times it’s my feet: they’re evaporating; I’m slowly coming undone.  I should tell you about how the roof is heaving and heavier and sinking and nearly on top of me now and how the fire just went out.  It’s true.  I should be talking in metaphors: my dusty heart quickens.  I should tell you how I tried to trace me onto the wall but I blinked instead.  Now it’s my hands, it’s my legs.  And it’s not that hard: my last

mouthful of air.

whiled

old, 2009-ish silliness in pencil, watercolour and collage

the first act

the first act, 2011 digital print. was on display in Food Chain's Light Locker Art Space.

Katie Lenanton wrote a wonderfully succinct explanation of this piece:

'Kiki Hunwick continues her ongoing investigation into the essence of light. Across multiple filmed projection sessions, she captures the process of light degrading to create a dynamic composite image from nine layered projection stills.'

But, well, I was actually just attempting to recreate the Auroras.

the fourth act

the fourth act, 2011 video projection in jar. exhibited in The Conservatorium.

you viewed the work by peeking through a hole in the wall.

pamphleteer

details from my installation, If We Still Existed, 2009. Exhibited at PICA in HATCHED 2010.

 If We Still Existed is an interactive audio installation using out dated technologies, old furniture and artist books. The room is completely dark, except for the unshaded lamp that casts strange shadows on the walls. The furniture is grouped into five backdrops, each plays host to an artist book with an accompanying audiotape. The hand bound, cloth covered artist books are text-based and created from thread, tape, watercolour and pen.

The intention is for the audio tapes to be operated by the viewer, changing their role from spectator to performer. In their interaction with the piece multiple stories are played at once creating a disjointed narrative with an eerie chorus of voices. 

Integrating fact with fiction I humanise the Dinosaur into a contemporary atmosphere, one in which these mysterious, extinct creatures have learnt society’s sensitivities, eccentricities and vices. In a whimsical and humorous way I explore internal narratives, the inconsistencies between our thoughts and actions.

the quondam drunkard, now perfectly sober

how to disappear politely and never be found, twice. watercolour on archival paper, 2009.