Skins – peeled away through acts of maintenance and care from the interior of a church, lifting decades of accumulated dust, dirt, detritus and traces of ritual – the overlooked material that sustains and contaminates sacred space. Or so they’d have us believe. As Mary Douglas writes, dirt is simply ‘matter out of place’.
Skins shapeshift to accommodate their surroundings. Humble before a portrait, painted four years before they came into being. Seductively draped in a group show. Sage-like, they link together into a circle of Crones: protective, watchful.
If asked nicely, they’ll part their skirts to reveal the brooder of glass and breath cradled between them.
Hotbed: two breath-filled glass forms.
Doulas: glass forms seated on tar-coated shelves.
