Investigating the life of things across space and time
Cyanotypes; 50cm x 70cm
by Sarah Gillett
Arm (2015)
cyanotype; 50cm x 70cm
Boundaries shift and perspectives change – in science, in geography, in society, in language. Encyclopaedias, dictionaries, atlases, medical journals, history books and pages on the internet become obsolete.
This series transforms fact into speculation through the elemental process of cyanotype. As though ripped from an oversized guide to the world, these mysterious works invite us to question the nature of learning and to examine the real and not real.
I could not have made this series of cyanotypes without the expertise and knowledge of the master printmaking technicians at the Royal College of Art. Thank you to Andrew Richardson, Robin Smart and Alan Smith.
Joseph reaches down and picks up a shell. He hands it to the boy, who is dragging a red plastic bucket across the sand. “Here. What about this one?”
Bill assesses the offering intently. “No Daddy,” he says firmly, “It’s broken here, see.”
It is late when I see you moving into the flat above the pub opposite. Must be past 11, because I hear the doors swinging open, hot blue noise gulping for air.
“And this is the sign for asleep,” says Alison, closing her index fingers and thumbs together in front of her eyes. “Go to sleep now my darling.”
She smooths out the duvet cover with her hands, uncreasing the printed astronaut suit, flattening the stars in their cotton void, repositioning the blue Earth from sliding off the side of the bed. She kisses Bill’s hair, feeling his fragile skull millimetres away from her lips. “Night night.”
“Night night Mummy,” he says.
