Artists: Ella Penn
Exhibited 2012 Brighton Photo Fringe
Old Market Lane Garage
32 North Street
Trichromatic was an installation piece, which used the waste byproduct of C41 Colour film. I acquired the materials one evening from a rubbish bin outside a processing lab following a heavy drinking session in Brighton. I wasn’t exactly sure what I had at first, I just thought that it looked far to colorful and shinny in my inebriated state not to take home and inspect more closely the following morning.
Upon later inspection and after a little bit of online research I found out that I had the waste byproduct of colour film.
This Clingfilm like substance had the four identical images in Blue, Red Yellow and white printed from rolls and rolls of people’s photographs.
Inspired by the famous cover of Pink Floyds Dark Side of The Moon,
Trichromatic aims to recreate visually the effects of a Prism.
The triangular shape and the use of both artificial and natural light, creates a visual spectacle of colours within the spectrum.
The delicate images printed on the film become merged with one another and new images are created. The impressions of light, which formed these photographic images, are in essence reborn and deconstructed back to their origins of light.
A trans-generational collaborative project bringing together students, alumni, external examiners and staff on the BA (Hons) Contemporary Photographic Arts Practice course at Northbrook College, Sussex.
Photography Harmonography 16mm Film Video Audio Texts Talks Music Performance ‘Zine...
Is This My Beginning... Or Is This The End?
It is a question that can go unnoticed — just a lyric, a refrain, a sing-along. But I am asked to stop and listen, and I take it seriously and offer an answer that is neither yes or no. To the question ‘is this my beginning … or is this the end?’ I’ll simply say, pure means. The question is for me a matter of pure means, and of course I must say more. […]
What is done is not done for the sake of management, government or ‘economy’, which is always and ever dominated by aim, end and purpose and with which comes the incessant labour —work— of making means to an end. And here comes the chance for there to be a pure arising, and I’ll call this an uprising of being.
Uprising or, in other words, insurrection.
Here it is: pure means gives the chance for an insurrection of being.
[…] When Piero Manzoni sold 90 tins of Artist’s Shit (1961), or Michael Landy destroyed all his possessions in Break Down (2001), we have examples of an artistic critique of growth. You buy any old shit? You need all this stuff? Art (whatever that is) can (but often doesn’t) perform an exemplification of this anyway by being radically useless. When it takes that uselessness seriously, when it reflects on the status of commodities and markets, it encourages us to think about other standards of value. The gallery (wherever that is) isn’t necessarily a radical place, but it can open up onto new spaces, new ways of thinking about the world we have made and the people we want to be.
There’s an odd paradox here, because an economy based on voluntary simplicity, mutual exchange, localism and need would also be an economy that would be hard to measure. The percentage figures of growth that the media tell us about only consider a range of possible ways of measuring the sorts of exchange that take place. When someone gives apples to their neighbour, cares for a child, does a job for cash, volunteers, cooks for friends, plays a gig at a pub, or puts together an exhibition, these activities do not appear in the ‘growth’ figures. They are transactions which are invisible in an account of ‘the economy’ which measures only those things which come to the attention of the state. If we ‘see like a state’, as James Scott put it, we will only see those things that the state sees, but if we look around us we can see an economy which is embedded in our daily lives already.[…] which we don’t need to measure in order to value.
The twilight comes as the time of unsteadiness. The confused hour of not knowing whether to choose tea or beer, the hour, which according to 19th century Nordic painters, makes the sea optically merge into the sky. Much like the immediate aftermath of a natural disaster or a revolution twilight is the time of questioning, where the most trivial detail has to be debated, reconsidered or reinvented. During this hour the structure of work dissipates before it arrives at the safety of sleep time. During twilight there are fewer rules, it is the moment where the end merges into the beginning.
At a meeting for the organisation of this exhibition, which took place just before dark, we asked ourselves which would be the best opening times. Much like in a meeting of the people in the aftermath of revolution, it was difficult to arrive at a consensus. Due to the conditions of the venue the night would work best for films but the day would mean that passersby would wander in and maybe even take part in the making of one of our zines. In the end, the exhibition will be open both during day and the evening. Its content and spirit remain, in my view, within that period when daylight turns to darkness.
Adriana Salazar Arro