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> > Gini

Artist and wordsmith, whose work engages with issues of access, from acknowledged physical needs to perceived symbolic exclusions. After being selected as one of DAO's New Voices in 2011, Gini's online presence has become an integral part of her arts practice

Naming the new soft sculpture.

13 September 2012


Soft  sculpture head, unfinished, white fabric on a black background, with the curved sewing needle still protruding from his jaw.

Kosta. The 'new man' will be Kosta; not from coffee Costa, but from costa, the botanical noun for rib. Kosta, deriving from Kouros like Eve from Adam's rib, is in essence a clone. Physically, he should still be recognisable as having the same basic body shape and measurements as Kouros; maybe it is possible that he could still be classed as one of the Kouroi, but he will lack the classic pose. Kouros, referencing Venus the classic beauty, has no arms. Kosta also has no legs.   Like Kouros,...

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Post Oparalympiad

10 September 2012


A wooden figure, the kind artists use, in shades of blue grey with a bright pink heart on a black background

Digital friends, electronic social life, podcast entertainment, filmed performance: all good, but no substitute for the real live thing. Not living in London, access (including financial access) to the phenomenon known simply as 2012, was problematic. Knowing no local people with any real interest in experiencing the Cultural Olympiad, I actually felt far more isolated than involved.   I was at the mercy of the media, and misleading statements like The Best Disability Arts practitioners...

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My 2012 day (does include a performance of Menage a Trois by Claire Cunningham)

9 September 2012


Duplicate of the Demons image from the previous blog, this row of crutches now has candle wicks with flames burning from five of them.

Shambolic as it turned out to be, my London 2012 day was an accidental success, so sitting in the dark with a dubious view of the Queen Elizabeth Hall stage, the edge of my apprehension was blunted by an ok exhaustion. My first impressions of a group of murderous sticks served to reinforce the stereotypes generated by my crutches Fred and George; I sent frequent glances towards the putative security of the exits. Nameless as Claire Cunningham's crutches were, they still managed to sign Fred and...

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Confronting demons.

7 September 2012


a row of crutches, just the bottom section, black and white, with the word sheep sliding very faintly over them in red.

Meet Fred. Meet George.   I hate them both. Totally interchangeable hatred; one left, one right, mirror twins. Totally interchangeable names. I knew a man who hated sheep, he said that sheep have only one raison d'etre which is to die in the most inconvenient place possible. Fred and George must have been sheep in a previous life.   Now they are just sticks. Metal sticks with plastic cuffs and hand-shaped branches, whose sole purpose is to crash to the floor as frequently and...

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