Density gauge 1 (ode to hatchets and chrome), 2025, Hatchets, cable ties, cast and found objects, nail varnish (230 x 25 x 5cm)
Ode to something else, 2025 Glitched photocopied image taken from the Surrealist Exhibition of Objects catalogue, 1936 (no attribution given), stretched and reprinted on vinyl (3000 x 724cm)
Notes on Baryte, 2025 Glitched photocopied image after Bernés Maroteau, printed on aluminium (40 x 60cm)
Tool for mud bathing, 2025 Inflatable buoyancy aid, earth (approx. 70 x 15cm)
Hmm, well (huh), 2025 Shop sign with stickers, clay, toothpaste, selenite crystal, lemon flavoured bubble gum (36 x 58 x 20cm)
scratching, 2025 Cigarette ash (collected from Zaratan) (98 x 70cm)
How it lays, 2025 Real rice cake, made rice cake, chrome spray, found image on tee (taken from The Owl Service, BBC, 1969) (70 x 80 x 5cm)
there but for the, 2025 Looped video (dur. 1.35, no sound)
Displaced (or rather__) (i) (ii), 2025 Brackets, steel cable ties, cast thumb, oyster shell, chrome-plated pickled onion crisp, hagstone (each 20 x 20 x 13cm)
Density gauge 2, 2025 Hatchet, steel cable tie, sunstone crystal (10cm diameter x 80cm tail)
Publication given out as part of the closing performance/artist talk
there but for the, Zaratan-Arte Contemporanea, Lisbon PT
11 September-18 October 2025
Loose limbed, shake off the drips sheer – pool of it – the up and down and out of place of it – take the rough with the smooth and the glitch with
The starting point for this exhibition was a youtube video of an owl floating in a swimming pool, its wings outstretched to keep it afloat. I don’t know how the owl got there, or what I feel about it, so I’m going to watch the video over and over again. Slow it down, zoom in. While I think about this, I stand over here, crouch down a bit, the lower shelf where my printer sits, slowly spilling images, a catalogue from 1936, or rather: photos of the images taken with my phone, so this image includes the page and the space between (89 years of it). If I can hold it, I can get a sense of it, but my printer is running out of ink. The images come out glitchy, ruptured, a new set of marks that take them somewhere else. If I can make it bigger, if I can stretch it out a bit, that bit of feather, with this bit of glitch, pause and try again. If I can poke my fingers in, the chance and luck and collision of it, find a stone with a hole through the middle, or rather _____ a single salty crisp. The chorus of collaborators, including the weather, my mood, yesterday, the person you met on the street. Nothing behaves as I expect it to. Something always intervenes to take things in a different direction. I don’t believe in divine intervention, yet…
Images by Nuno Direitinho and Nuno Martins