Susan Wirth
Vortex of Impossible Dreams
31.08.22 – 17.09.22
Close up its like fur, I dissect it culture’s carcass, carved up butchered embedded with the dead skin of lost generations family, home, warmth. I cut into and recreate within its woolly patterning, new views, new shapes shimmering with recognition – deep, deep, sheep! I am allergic to this material it both repels and attracts lured in by the lines and coloursbeneath my fingers.
Itching mercilessly consistently reacting to surface the heat of the iron makes this worse steam rises smelling of wet wool and Softly, cotton gloves absorb some of the heat. I spend my nights peeling off dead skin like a snake shedding.
Onkaparinga comes from a Kaurna word Ngangkiparinga meaning women’s river. Trying to recover the connections that are not lost in these deep valleys travailing for now. I remake with the discordant voices of Memory looking over my shoulder.
