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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

Falling behind

26 May 2014


A pen and ink drawing of a large wrinkled dog, with enormous worried eyes, sitting guard on a locked wooden chest. The scene is lit by two candles on the floor and a mouse is in the process of jumping over one of them.

How long since you updated your profile? My what? For someone enchanted by Anais Nin and the concept of fluid personality I've been ridiculously negligent about my profile. On Dao I'm still the wooden-puppet wordsmith, a profile arrived at by the same kind of looking back that a resume, a CV, requires; and I'm notoriously bad at delivering one of those. I am my work, not my CV. I do still enjoy the sound of wordsmith, it conjures memories of sounds comprehensible only to me and...

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Voting, politics, consequences.

25 May 2014


Black and white lithograph of textures and spaces that reflect natural rockiness and possible roots with a decomposing canister labelled ‘contaminated’ lower right of the centre. The canister maybe integral to the shape or it may be partly at

I grew up with the flag flying. The halyard whipping against the flagpole in our garden was a constant reminder of celebration. Birthdays and special occasions were always accompanied by the full size rectangle of cloth, sometimes cracking loudly in high winds; I remember once the flagpole actually broke. Other times the heavy oblong hung languidly, still in sultry weather. On completely other occasions we used the long narrow vimpel, with it's elegant pointed end the finger of fairy...

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Seeing and not seeing - more confrontations with art...

24 May 2014


Three vertical columbs in shades of blue and white, on white. Each columb consisting of six photographs of the sky above my house, each image is a variation of cloudiness.

I rolled through some really powerful rain. There were rumbles of thunder and Salisbury Cathedral Close was deserted. Visibility was poor, water was splashing onto the stones of the sculpture 'Sanctuary' and steaming off rather like a vintage Hitchcock movie. I've done my best with the stones, on March 15th I blogged my initial reaction. Last week on a sunny day I took my lunch and joined the hordes of tourists sunbathing on their stored heat. I watched small children play with one...

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