https://alixemery.com Alix Emery Sat, 15 Apr 2023 16:13:33 +0000 https://alixemery.com en https://alixemery.com/CV Mon, 04 May 2020 16:44:30 +0000 Alix Emery https://alixemery.com/CV CV Selected Group Exhibitions: 2017&nbsp; &nbsp; Behave Tate St Ives and the Artist’s Books Collection at Tate Britain2018&nbsp; &nbsp; LIVING ROOM BAD ART, The Medicine Gallery2019&nbsp; &nbsp; Duality Yorkshire House 2021 &nbsp;&nbsp; Conditions Whitgift Shopping Centre 2022&nbsp; &nbsp; Front Garden Turf Projects 2023&nbsp; &nbsp; Baggage Claim Staffordshire St. Gallery&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Uncanny Phantasmal Gallery&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Not Of This World Phantasmal Gallery2025 &nbsp;&nbsp; Bathroom Skin SET Lewisham Selected Publications and Writing: 2020&nbsp; &nbsp; Work Aesthetic Best Practice Zine 2021&nbsp; &nbsp; Od Arts Festival Review OCR Projects 2023&nbsp; &nbsp; Artist Spotlight Jiggle and Juice 2024&nbsp; &nbsp; repost (echoes)&nbsp;Odes, Fondness, Love and Soft Spots, Ethereal Pilgrims&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Profit Dysmorphia Weird Economies Residencies and Programmes: 2018&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Residency at i o u a e 2019&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Associate at The Collective Studio 2022&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Residency at Termokiss 2023 &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Associate at Spike Island 2025 &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Residency at Bundner Rigi Workshops and Talks: 2020&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Lying (talk) Conditions 2021&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Spitballs Are Free Speech! writing workshop, Conditions 2022 &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Ageing Societies: A Global Response London Design Festival Projects: 2024 &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Setting up Freedoms Visual Arts South West 2021 - 2023 &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Opes and Dreams b-side festival 2021 &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Together We Will Visual Arts South West 2021 &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Glen Park Avenue Steps&nbsp;Brick Projects 2022 &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; The Earl of Abergavenny Archive Portland Museum Education: 2019 - 2021&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Conditions2015 - 2018&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Central Saint Martins: BA (Hons) Fine Art2014 - 2015&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Camberwell College of Art: Foundation in Art and Design Awards and Grants: 2017&nbsp; &nbsp; LVMH Scholarship in Fine Art, Central Saint Martins 2020&nbsp; &nbsp; Freelands Foundation Grant 2022&nbsp; &nbsp; The Complete Freedom Of Truth Grant&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Developing Your Creative Practice, Arts Council England 2023&nbsp; &nbsp; Project Grant for Opes and Dreams Arts Council England https://alixemery.com/Endless-Shit-Stain Fri, 24 Apr 2020 12:34:13 +0000 Alix Emery https://alixemery.com/Endless-Shit-Stain Endless Shit Stain 2019 4 united u-bends endlessly flowing shit. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<img width="2362" height="2362" width_o="2362" height_o="2362" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a0acafc59ba769402cb39e32c5c35950e1ec0751e178b087b9fb158f760e6e94/endless-shit-stain.jpg" data-mid="68292700" border="0" data-scale="46" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a0acafc59ba769402cb39e32c5c35950e1ec0751e178b087b9fb158f760e6e94/endless-shit-stain.jpg" /> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; https://alixemery.com/Absolute-Vacuum Fri, 24 Apr 2020 12:34:12 +0000 Alix Emery https://alixemery.com/Absolute-Vacuum Absolute Vacuum 2018 Two conjoined Henry hoovers sharing a pocket of pure nothingness rather than the dirt they usually have to put up with.&nbsp; <img width="5388" height="3592" width_o="5388" height_o="3592" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/76943264e12e9b9c0f9c3e6b64ca0f99675818cf2ac9125e925a66f7d9c52091/dualism-exhibition-2.jpg" data-mid="68291800" border="0" data-scale="68" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/76943264e12e9b9c0f9c3e6b64ca0f99675818cf2ac9125e925a66f7d9c52091/dualism-exhibition-2.jpg" /> 2019DualismYorkshire House, Leeds <img width="5472" height="3648" width_o="5472" height_o="3648" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/28de54944e9edb617051667ae1d051223e92f2437029aea57a7bec88098a6af3/dualism-exhibition-1.jpg" data-mid="68291794" border="0" data-scale="44" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/28de54944e9edb617051667ae1d051223e92f2437029aea57a7bec88098a6af3/dualism-exhibition-1.jpg" />&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;<img width="5241" height="3494" width_o="5241" height_o="3494" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/be292cab18c3ba7a5c801c3a1e7151fa3d998343581ad6087632bd5d64c5995e/dualism-exhibition-3.jpg" data-mid="68291803" border="0" data-scale="44" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/be292cab18c3ba7a5c801c3a1e7151fa3d998343581ad6087632bd5d64c5995e/dualism-exhibition-3.jpg" /> 2019DualismYorkshire House, Leeds <img width="500" height="625" width_o="500" height_o="625" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e8b8dcca49784cde655e9fefbba049354c898d2b258e817e0c409e1cad69cfa9/tumblr_inline_q776gznIdg1t4niau_500.png" data-mid="68291806" border="0" data-scale="44" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/500/i/e8b8dcca49784cde655e9fefbba049354c898d2b258e817e0c409e1cad69cfa9/tumblr_inline_q776gznIdg1t4niau_500.png" /> 2018The Living Room The Medicine Gallery https://alixemery.com/Sickened-Orifices Fri, 24 Apr 2020 13:07:01 +0000 Alix Emery https://alixemery.com/Sickened-Orifices Sickened Orifices 2020 Writing. Sickened orifices explores a damaged digestive system through a monologue of appropriated thoughts.&nbsp;Trigger warning: References to injury detail, violence, toxic relationships, trauma, eating disorders and substance abuse. Bad things going in and coming out of holes leaking oozing woundy disaster zones (oh no). Semi objects Through me Dissolved. Effect within the subject’s modifications; speech (parapraxes; etc.), body (symptoms). [List] probably self-inflicted. I’m just clouded over with this shit. I’m not stupid: no medication this time. You can’t experiment with your health. I thought I was in control. I was not in control. Not healed. The cramp shot through my whole body to my brain. Unrealistic pain. Crying OUt. Frustrated, when you took the ticket, took the train to the end of the line. The driver's head rose slowly against the waste of sky. We’re losing signal, now we’ve lost connection. Prohibitions divide deep lines and paved two paths you wandered through, departing and severing pursued desires. This authority shapes the body into a territory having distorted lines, stolen signs. To enforce a divide. Love in loveless architecture they faced each other &nbsp; I feel you now, feel me. Tracing my steps into orifices, into blue, into you. Edging closer. Tensions were rising over borderlines&nbsp; hoping you’d come back one day. Surfaces and kinks of a hollow the landslides in. Proper/clean/improper/dirty/mastery/neglect. Every wall has an ear pressed against it. Our home is where we are not. A terror that divides, a hatred that smiles. I just want out. I know it's early but I'm bored of life. Night night xxx Vacancy starred in the swing mirror: no message just crumbs on the floor. For some people the important object is lost, always desired and never reached, the thing that causes the subject to desire in cases where he can never gain the satisfaction of holding the object. Any object the subject desires will never be anything but a substitute for the lost object. One life, one love, one lover. When you’re in this world, surely the best thing you can do, is to get out of it? “This is a good hospital. They have medicines. There’s pills.” “They don’t always work do they?” “They never work if you ask me.” Craving [body as a shitty party] Throbbing and not stopping aching in my head his ear her arm. Dizziness Noises Buzzings vomit. Death on the instalment plan. Good. More peak blues An inner collision Whose intimate side is suffering and horror it's public feature. Ugly as fuck. I love just wasting my life, I've been steeped in the internet my whole life. Binge watching crap and then not pulling the trigger. I was staring at the internet and my eyes weren’t wet enough. They just weren’t producing enough tears. I’d watch all those sappy, tear jerkers and nothing would happen. Not enough, never enough life is to be a chain of flirtation with someone for every link and I want them all coated in sugar. You bite off the end nib, showing off, all directed at someone, You know everyone adores you. And so Isabelle sized up her antagonist. She really cleaned them out. For a delicious hour that passed too soon they glided the silent roads about Princeton and talked from the surface of their hearts in shy excitement. He said in a dry monotone “I am a man of unclean lips.” I said he should see mine. Language turns into slobber and stuttering “when you consider, for instance, the ways in which words are formed and uttered, human speech fails to stand up to the test of all this spittle.” Turning the junk over in my mouth. “The mechanical effort we make in speaking is more complicated and arduous than defecation.” Telephone wires above are sizzling like a snare. He is obviously very unhappy, she is quite bored. Egotistical highways 99% self centred. Rosalind goes to the glass where she gazes at herself with great satisfaction clouding the waters of Narcissus’s pool and there I took a horny little nap in the dried up pool I had created. She wants what she wants when she wants it. Divided between boredom, abjection and piercing laughter. Rosalind had been disappointed in man after man as individuals, but she had great faith in man as a sex. Domesticated, I wanted to puke too much to give my voice a chance. Transporting the body to the place of the other, both being ransacked, but leaving a trace, a gesture, a voice. Oh dear Alone, sitting on the lounge staring very moodily and unhappily at nothing. OH GREAT.&nbsp; I can’t change his mood. He can walk away from all that he wishes. And he walks away so damn well from me. You can’t blame him for it. Filling the hole just made the hole bigger. Romantic obsession - possession. Possessed. She just might become my lover for real. Sounds like a good daydream.&nbsp; Love will come to you on Wednesday.&nbsp; I only can remember the dick going in. It overflows, spilling over. You fucked me so good that I almost said, "I love you." This is how I turn the other person into a higher power. Because you're my religion, you're how I'm now living. I bore a hole in myself at the thought of my lord you Man/god: a dietary distinction and Christ relieves: “And took him aside from the multitude, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spit, and touched his tongue; and looking up to heaven, he sighed, and said unto him, Ephphatha, that is, Be Opened. And straightaway his ears were opened, and the string of his tongue was loosened, and he spake plain: “Kiss me on my open mouth I’m ready for you” It’s very Jesus take the wheel up here from the botched together facts that I know. Let's take Jesus off the dashboard, he’s got enough on his mind. I tend to retreat into fantasy a lot. I have a lot of trouble receiving pleasure. Never growing up/ I don’t want to grow up. If you could just bathe me in hot cheese with no repercussions. I thought I could create that fantasy but, I realised, you bring yourself everywhere.&nbsp;So that's shit. less than Comedown never enough more more more = equal. Swallowing whole. Not enough, never enough.&nbsp; I could drink it like tequila sunrise.&nbsp; Isabelle and Amory were distinctly not innocent. Amateur standing had very little standing in the game they were playing Gameboy Good times I like things good in-n-out cocooned in a warmth filled filter My skin looks great in sepia I/Other, Inside/Outside If that was the sexy dream and then this is the emotional hangover It has a very chesty ache. But that might just be the cheese. I know how to mourn the death of a fantasy. Fearing fun, fearing love A “borderline” patient. Leading the patient towards the “good” object the real object of desire fantasized according to the normal criteria. But who's first instinct is to turn to the healthy and good? You have different orifices to me. Yet they don’t fit. The present didn’t exist. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of a withered spring, and heaven was just a word: hell was something I could trust. A brain was only capable of what it could conceive, and I couldn’t conceive what I had never experienced. It sounds like long distance, too far away. It's got that open-air sound you know? I wanted to see him. You can’t. He’s occupied. For years afterwards when Amory thought of Eleanor he seemed still to hear the wind sobbing around him and sending little chills into places beside his heart. Immersing people in discomfort. For if we could be satisfied with anything, we should have been satisfied a long time ago. She made me mutate, turning myself from the inside to the out. Tear me apart, pull me open (look inside) see the corrosion It’s now so slow to digest But I will let you enter me Pass through me Got a bad hunger So tempting. Your thoughts deprive. I must have triggered something. The heart cuts body parts. I still feel the pain. Now you grow more distant, I see you're not with me but against me and at me He had taken the most violent, if the weakest, method to shield himself from the stabs of memory. I want to be sick over something else Sick little life. Both begged for and pulverised. Forfeited, I delight in pain instead. My arsehole is never a vacant space. It’s blended shit. I prefer blended shit. She couldn’t normalise, she was traumatised and from there it was easy to slide into a phantom world where all men, the more you liked them, the more evil they were. Swallow them up. The body turned inside out, sent back from deep within the guts, the bowels turned over in the mouth, food mingled with excretions, fainting spells, horrors, and resentments: so she vomits herself up again. I like to know the calories that are in food. It makes me feel swaddled. Swaddled in my insanity. This guilt is craving, this comfort: it’s quilt. So I'm having a poor man's feast. And by that I mean reconstituted skimmed MILK, coconut oil, sugar, water, glucose-fructose syrup, whey protein (MILK), skimmed MILK powder, WHEAT flour, fat reduced cocoa powder, emulsifiers (mono- and diglycerides of fatty acids, SOY lecithin), flavouring, stabilisers (locust bean gum, guar gum, carrageenan), raising agent (ammonium carbonate), salt. I got them fresh. This was a thought-out thing,&nbsp; a lot of maths was involved. It can consume me. Why are we taking 259 calories to the high power? I’m all stomach and teeth when it's the seventh day in a row with the same cashier. Oh no, I should've kept my receipts, because the sandwich I bought has been off for a week. For twenty minutes I sat consuming bacon buns (from my plate) and affection (from my phone). Because who eats just one? I am not the only one that devours, I am being devoured by him, and a third person is devouring&nbsp; too. To save myself, I reject and throw up everything given to me. Phobia sent me here to abort, a metaphor of want. My guts are on the floor. Pollution by want, because you want more you want more you want more I am going to eat until it hurts It’s Saturday pollution by food. The more disgusting shit is, the more I’m into it. My hunger has that feral quality. I lay her body down. Abandoned bodies (flesh/ blood) by numb minds. Bind me to you like bloodless flesh is bound to blood&nbsp; No healed scars, only open wounds, shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick but still wounds. Swallowed up. Instead of a maternal love is an emptiness. Outgrowing a natural repugnance for dirt to illness and needles, and deriving a highly specialised education from their mother. A wife can be a mother to her husband and a son can be a husband or a mother to his mother and a daughter can be a sister or a mother to her mother who can be a father and a mother to her daughter. I am not mad, but that is where I exist. The rain has turned my sense to mush. Whether I’m mad or not, frightened or not I’m down the rabbit hole again. A universe of borders, seesaws, fragile and mingled identities, wanderings of the subject and the objects, fears and struggles. Sex/sickness grows hollow, decays, and crumbles in a threesome with anxiety + depression. Shit’s even brighter now you’re gone. I miss Long Beach and I miss you. Scars become maps. It begs again, worries, and now I’m caught up by the taste in her mouth which does not let itself be seduced. Apprehensive, desire turns aside, sickened, it rejects. Repelling rejecting repelling itself rejecting itself. I haven’t been jerking off much lately. If ever. A vegetable state safe space. Inanimate objects get my attention as the potato’s sexuality contorts to become polymorphic. I mean it does taste like wax on the one hand, but it is also a frosting delight. Motioning him away arrived in a graceful lump in the soft mud where he sat laughing at herself. Her voice was full of laughter. A basic sick girl approaches the hysterical body which stopped gorging, so it might speak. I couldn't initiate and I couldn’t respond. She was silent for the rest of our conversation yet she was not passive. Singing blues has been getting old. The decay of it, infection, disease, corpse of the relationship. My ego threatened my non ego when another heart beat against my own. All impressions and, in fact, all ideas were extremely kaleidoscopic to Isabelle. I want excitement; I don't care what form it takes or what I pay for it, so long as it makes my heart beat again. Too far. A margin of a floating structure. Dive in, dive deep and dive blue, my sweet. Out of depth I’m taking off my swimming costume. Another flow that mingles two identities. When lightning strikes one of us it strikes both. Let's just get lost, that's what we want Chasing dopamine A spoiled athlete sprinting Running out of time I don’t know what’s up with this dead body smell. It’s a new feature. Maybe the way I live is killing me. Waste-body, corpse-body. What goes out of the body, out of it’s pores and openings, well I was basically just a walking zit. And I’m wasted. I can’t survive. I need to see this night though. Not supposed/borrowed time. On Monday, they destroyed me but by Friday, I'm revived. God knows I lived God knows I died God knows I loved God knows I lied God knows I begged Begged, borrowed, and cried God knows I lost God gave me life And God knows I tried So let there be light Let there be light Light up my life Light up my life Assuming i won't get into an accident along the way. Maybe I should play it safer. A bit déjà vuy. Not me. Not that. But not nothing either. “Something” that I do not recognise as a thing. A weight of meaninglessness, about which there is nothing insignificant, and which crushes me … a reality that, if I acknowledge it, annihilates me. A lapse, discomfort, shame, or blunder. It’s always fucking there to sink it's fucking teeth in. Urine, blood and shit then show up and assure me that I am still here. Rotten, drained and blocked. Not that i have stalkers. Actually. Look. There's been a couple of weirdos, look there was this one guy who would email me like everyday like five times a day with some really really gross shit and I blocked him. It took me a little while, it always takes me a little while to block people. but with this guy there was some sexual violence so he had to go. And now he's spreading the stalking around! Cause i thought i was the only one getting stalked. At least only stalk me. Look I don’t care, I don’t care. Mess - worse - self aware mess, anxiety of the mess I’ll cope the way I do. Soaking it in. Pure/ impure prohibition as guiltless loveless sins flow. So what could the strongest dreaming achieve? Morphiny. Rosalind unlimited. It’s unfortunate, that you happened to look like what pleased some soppy old Greek sculpture as it pleased me too. Flirt smiled from her large black-brown eyes and shone through an intense physical magnetism. &nbsp; your putrid ooze swallows me lust + greed - to possess always more - an appetite that cannot be sated. A little party never hurt no one. Wine is flowing with Bacardi and Tom was rather inclined to finish anything in a liquid way that he began. "Sofia is a waitress, for the time being," my father said in Greek. I am other things, too. Sponging pus and sores.&nbsp; I want to give a really bad party. I mean it. Into these moods I slip as a refuge. Sorrow lay around me. Myself: the word echoed hygienically on among the porcelain basins, the taps and plugs and bogs. I tried to keep her from herself. Relapse A fleshwound bloomsYou don't know when to stop. another half, the other half, sad, halfway over, halfway home. The wound where you entered is kept open, gaping. There is so much pleasure in scratching it, where it is bound, enchained. I scratch so hard It’s very easy to be frenetic and in motion Infinite scrolling: limitless appetite Craving, I want more than what I deserve. I just want something infinite and mine. I wish I couldn’t give a shit. Don’t reduce the world to this, but rampancy, boundlessness, the untiring repetition of a drive, which, propelled by an initial loss, does not cease wondering, unsated, deceived, warped, until it finds the only stable object - death. I enjoy the mania: let me just focus on this one thing that means nothing to the exclusion of all else. Let me take the messiness, the uncontrollability, the unknown and just distill it down to one thing that is within my control. All my survival mechanisms have become way out of proportion. So now I have their entire stock. Panic at the Disco? Manic at the pound shop. You know, and then I get emotionally attached to these people from a five minute video. and then i look up the actor and he's fucking 300 women with the same drugged up look on his face and i realise, he doesn’t really love her, he's just acting. Fear is my north star I always catastrophize.&nbsp; I kind of grandiose the narrative. What am I giving birth to? It’s not a maggot but it’s feed for maggots Smelling of shit in an extraordinary combination of textures: my shit baby. The heat of it's body was fierce and feral as my heartbeat hammered into the warm earth beneath me. It makes me feel like I surf or skateboard and feels very hot dualistic and dissolving. He sticks his finger in the wound He plunges both hands in&nbsp; He digs into all of the holes Tearing away the soft edges Poking around He gets stuck and the juice pours out, a live stream, gushing all over the place Full of brains and blood, splashing It never goes well But still I pine. low self esteem where my taste buds taste everything disgusting as beautiful. It was beautiful, I was beautiful. I like things good, fresh + creamy, (sickly sweet) sweetness which lacks everywhere else. I have a long, strange relationship with food, it's my longest bad relationship. And all of my peaches are ruined (Bitch) Are ruined (Bitch), are ruined (Fuck!) My love Rotting on the vine urge to purge In a pool of filth I waste away It’s all a crock of shit The spasms and vomiting protect me In my head I'm getting dead tired of this shit you've caused retching thrusts me on the side A frenzied outpouring Slipping into filth and sewage and muck (clean, unclean). Existence had settled back to ambitionless normality. Sex in a sick bed pricking me in my bad feelings. A good time for me is when I’m unconscious. My meditation usually happens in bed, where most of my life happens. Vibrator close at hand and all my bedroom stuff just swirling round. Medium rare there emerges apocalyptic lust for swallowing up the other, I’m the reason you flow Polluting myself with food, I had been manipulating my emotions with drugs and alcohol I miss you on my lips I want it so much If I could just feel good all the time I like the food and life to be flowing seamlessly into one another I love to eat in transitional moments Food becomes abject only if it is a boundary between two distinct entities or territories I am recovering from a fantasy I projected on a young man’s body He didn’t speak so I just projected I wanted to go where he was going Every other hour seemed like a wasted hour that composed my entire life, another little prison. The shame of compromise, of being in the middle of guilt I still get trashed when I hear of you False hope. Follow but no chat. Always they turned away from me and left me holding Nothing in my hands and staring at it, calling it many things, but knowing it was only the hope that they would be back soon. I scrunched my pillow hard, lay down and put the back of my neck against it to slow circulation and slept for a while A waking nightmare Not so much waking as turning over in my bed Dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes one nervous He lay awake in the darkness and wondered how much he cared how much of his sudden unhappiness was hurt vanity Anyway what was a promise to a head that was sick? Immersed in fear my first mistake was leaving the house. Amory paced the boardwalk at day’s end, lulled by the everlasting surge of changing waves, smelling the half-mournful odour of the salt breeze. Impelled to start afresh, I am on a journey into the night, the end of which never comes. Intangibly fleeting, unrememberable hours, eclipsed. The weeks tore by While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease. The oldest star is about 13 billion years old but the stars on my screen saver are two years old and were made in China. When I get lost they’ll be no one there to take my hand The scent was like oblivion, a trance The arch of the desert jasmine was a coma zone I love the meltiness I turn to take my own medicine Cause that's what you do in a town where yellow lights mean slow down not speed up. Gagging, bile [confused with love], increased heart beat, dizziness, nausea: I expel myself, I spit myself out. Inverting pure/impure dichotomy into an outside/inside one. Got nothing to loose Neither of us remain Nonono you can't be in here right now I mean that trespassing’s not healthy Replace me already Nothing’s working There’s no relief, no release Leave if you want to leave [I don’t understand] ihavenoideawhati’mdoing What happened? (Fuck!) As an exile who asks “where?” All I'd like is a little home in the country, some warm country, a lover, and just enough to do to keep from rotting I’m still not over this shit. I don’t know where you start, or where I begin Pussy footing around where you are alone, singular, untouchable, unsociable, discredited, at the end of the night We talk in epic voice message of bullshit You I wish you were doing better A deject who places (themselves), separates (themselves) instead of bearing, desiring, belonging You got out of hand A stray Straying to the territories of the animal [such a scorpio] Am I afraid of being bitten again, or am I afraid of biting? I’ve got to keep myself sane, shit The contamination of life by death Of ending. Everyone tells themselves that their deaths would be heroic. I’ve ruined you. So I’m ruined am I? My body chemistry is fucked. Game over Sacrifice What am I going to doooooo? Face my life or masturbate? You get ready, you get all dressed up to go nowhere in particular Taking all my medicine to take my thoughts away I push away with hands that hurt Paralyzed legs not able to escape it all Rotating 360 to avoid Your head would be angry and hurt to see vertigo infinite quest we're on a quick, sick rampage: wining and dining, drinking and driving, excessive buying, overdose and dying. Don’t tell me about it. I didn’t need to feed this shit. Grant me peace. Forgive me forgive me forgive me. Kicking and screaming. Tricking and scheming. The scars of your dealings. Signals crossing can get confusing. can you hear me? Lying to herself I did nothing all morning but I made my bed then got back in it and thought about the warm bodies I could have been with. I lie in bed. You lay between the sheets with me, my lying love. Lies can buy eternity. Take advantage of them. I’ll let you be bad. Conjure up abuse. I know you are all deep and fake: phantoms, ghosts. I can’t deal false cards. I’ve got no chance. I promise nothing. I just felt a little haunted, so I had to distracted myself with the gram. It’ll buy me a year if I play my cards right. My orifices hallucinate nothing. What fills up this oasis of absence? All my aches are catching up with me, piercing me through and through, my forehead, my arms, my ears, I’ve had it, fuck that shit! I’m getting down, off this ride. I’ve got hold of the railing. Just a bit dizzy. And here I am again, quaking. I ask myself again and again - I’m stumbling over. I can’t see where I’m going. Neither store windows nor people. Not even sidewalks. I trip. I bump. &nbsp; Her round, pale face seemed to dissolve into two faces, a dozen, more.&nbsp; A change is needed. Narcissus off duty Not king No narcissism No ego. Powerless on the outside, impossible on the inside Being as ill-being. The horror within. https://alixemery.com/g-pa-house-work Thu, 07 Apr 2022 13:52:11 +0000 Alix Emery https://alixemery.com/g-pa-house-work G’pa’s House Work 2022 This project looks at: Interspecies careCosy horrorsShared abjectionsDomestic environmentalism My grandpa didn’t do housework. This work comes from cleaning his house and thinking about different kinds of housework after he fell and moved into a care home. It looks at human life as part of different ecosystems around one home and new possibilities of living with other life. 1. Kitchen Work. <img width="570" height="559" width_o="570" height_o="559" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b42d780cbbb0f1e4dfedf8371e6500e73146e0bff59462a5c5ad8c39c6bfd0de/food-baby-1-copy.jpg" data-mid="147215733" border="0" data-scale="44" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/570/i/b42d780cbbb0f1e4dfedf8371e6500e73146e0bff59462a5c5ad8c39c6bfd0de/food-baby-1-copy.jpg" /> Food baby 1.Collaged cherryade, grapefruit and pomegrate with feotus. <img width="440" height="440" width_o="440" height_o="440" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0084fe9588e304370fe8606c291cff2c5026ab4c9c447a5be8bfc58a3d212a9e/food-baby-2-copy.jpg" data-mid="147215735" border="0" data-scale="44" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/440/i/0084fe9588e304370fe8606c291cff2c5026ab4c9c447a5be8bfc58a3d212a9e/food-baby-2-copy.jpg" /> Food baby 2.Collaged spaghetti, orange and squid with feotus. &nbsp; &nbsp; <img width="768" height="432" width_o="768" height_o="432" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3a12b4039264cba8fa7c7d2cc0d450506f0c7640bdbdaf11fb4d7661c384992b/food-baby-9-copy.jpg" data-mid="147215744" border="0" data-scale="44" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/768/i/3a12b4039264cba8fa7c7d2cc0d450506f0c7640bdbdaf11fb4d7661c384992b/food-baby-9-copy.jpg" /> Food baby&nbsp;Collaged spaghetti, cherryade and orange with feotus. <img width="1365" height="2048" width_o="1365" height_o="2048" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/09f57a9bb9a6a88e64401b8e47d1b12e262f38a089e8731b2a995cc18f36dc30/belly-hold-2.jpg" data-mid="147216714" border="0" data-scale="43" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/09f57a9bb9a6a88e64401b8e47d1b12e262f38a089e8731b2a995cc18f36dc30/belly-hold-2.jpg" /> Harvestime (Safe Ways to Hold a Baby), Cradle Hold.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <img width="1365" height="2048" width_o="1365" height_o="2048" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/6c609944507d8dfc4dc0f7c9451784cfda2772974b521652f3864581eb265ee8/cradle-hold-3.jpg" data-mid="147216716" border="0" data-scale="43" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/6c609944507d8dfc4dc0f7c9451784cfda2772974b521652f3864581eb265ee8/cradle-hold-3.jpg" /> Harvestime (Safe Ways to Hold a Baby), Rugby Ball Hold.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <img width="1365" height="2048" width_o="1365" height_o="2048" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/cf3e2db0bb85f5c6b2595dc6b01534e784dc8f9e4b95e2b5839356af3aa4744b/face-to-face-hold-2-2.jpg" data-mid="147223458" border="0" data-scale="43" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/cf3e2db0bb85f5c6b2595dc6b01534e784dc8f9e4b95e2b5839356af3aa4744b/face-to-face-hold-2-2.jpg" /> Harvestime (Safe Ways to Hold a Baby), Face-to-face Hold.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;2. Bathroom Work. <img width="1365" height="2048" width_o="1365" height_o="2048" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9a33212a632174d4dd31b4dc1eca5834983896bdb4d2bba13d34760a3dd7f351/1-2.jpg" data-mid="147207944" border="0" data-scale="43" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9a33212a632174d4dd31b4dc1eca5834983896bdb4d2bba13d34760a3dd7f351/1-2.jpg" /> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<img width="1365" height="2048" width_o="1365" height_o="2048" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/59d5c3ff94ed4bfe61a0f154c4676946549b8b179fa1bd8d0d657f58a7ec5d1f/5-2.jpg" data-mid="147207949" border="0" data-scale="42" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/59d5c3ff94ed4bfe61a0f154c4676946549b8b179fa1bd8d0d657f58a7ec5d1f/5-2.jpg" /> &nbsp; <img width="1365" height="2048" width_o="1365" height_o="2048" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/114218923a16441d6532028908316fe0975bd3ce6b8ab6070e4dcd0e189a082d/7-2.jpg" data-mid="147207951" border="0" data-scale="42" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/114218923a16441d6532028908316fe0975bd3ce6b8ab6070e4dcd0e189a082d/7-2.jpg" /> <img width="1365" height="2048" width_o="1365" height_o="2048" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3babe403af805e2d34e9bb96394135c4694eebdc74f724de23c4b0c92817dd3e/11-2.jpg" data-mid="147207955" border="0" data-scale="43" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3babe403af805e2d34e9bb96394135c4694eebdc74f724de23c4b0c92817dd3e/11-2.jpg" />.&nbsp; &nbsp; <img width="2048" height="1365" width_o="2048" height_o="1365" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/bb30169102637d06476962fbc7ec2a8c60b3c7a267571aae024489a786b0d18e/13-2.jpg" data-mid="147207957" border="0" data-scale="43" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/bb30169102637d06476962fbc7ec2a8c60b3c7a267571aae024489a786b0d18e/13-2.jpg" /> https://alixemery.com/Dead-Digital-Threads Fri, 24 Apr 2020 12:34:13 +0000 Alix Emery https://alixemery.com/Dead-Digital-Threads Dead Digital Threads 2018 Paper boat All the digital messages from a relationship start to finish turned into a paper boat, launched and shipwrecked. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;<img width="2244" height="1496" width_o="2244" height_o="1496" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/4aa9733395e086d97e68381915e9f91f102db6d915c454ccc62af6e976502611/DSC_0064-medium.jpg" data-mid="68293635" border="0" data-scale="65" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/4aa9733395e086d97e68381915e9f91f102db6d915c454ccc62af6e976502611/DSC_0064-medium.jpg" /> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Dead Digital Threads &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Me getting wet in a stupid paper boat <img width="3508" height="3508" width_o="3508" height_o="3508" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9e910bc10713bec5ffc3cd7c8d81bb8a7b52848cfe3721f4b25d1f58f574e45c/Dreamboat-It-s-not-the-tragedies-that-kill-us--it-s-the-messes.jpg" data-mid="68293623" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9e910bc10713bec5ffc3cd7c8d81bb8a7b52848cfe3721f4b25d1f58f574e45c/Dreamboat-It-s-not-the-tragedies-that-kill-us--it-s-the-messes.jpg" /> It’s not the tragedies that kill us, it’s the messes <img width="3508" height="3508" width_o="3508" height_o="3508" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b40e1565524bff86c2138e5f0e4c17bb70e9fd3783dd55ba47e1b078b8aa6c48/mess-2.jpg" data-mid="68293642" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b40e1565524bff86c2138e5f0e4c17bb70e9fd3783dd55ba47e1b078b8aa6c48/mess-2.jpg" /> It’s not the tragedies that kill us, it’s the messes https://alixemery.com/Two-For-Joy Fri, 24 Apr 2020 12:34:14 +0000 Alix Emery https://alixemery.com/Two-For-Joy Two For Joy2019 Two taxidermy magpies.Using a tyre, Two For Joy is a macabre satire where a couple thought to be lucky, clearly aren't and end up as flattened roadkill mixing together depressed omens and haunted travel. Two For Joy was influenced by One for Sorrow, a traditional British nursery rhyme about seeing magpies and their meaning: One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl, Four for a boy, Five for silver, Six for gold, Seven for a secret never to be told. <img width="2000" height="1500" width_o="2000" height_o="1500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0fc2ba2c21c5103b9754eea3000fefec137790928b57748ca224bd2a33856fd8/maggiestarmacsmall.JPG" data-mid="68294188" border="0" data-scale="62" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0fc2ba2c21c5103b9754eea3000fefec137790928b57748ca224bd2a33856fd8/maggiestarmacsmall.JPG" /> <img width="4000" height="3000" width_o="4000" height_o="3000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c3ef1be1260f35b8687b008aae3f1af4c7e7d51d40e89f736cd8f4f3b7ca4c00/maggiestarmac2.JPG" data-mid="68294148" border="0" data-scale="62" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c3ef1be1260f35b8687b008aae3f1af4c7e7d51d40e89f736cd8f4f3b7ca4c00/maggiestarmac2.JPG" /> https://alixemery.com/no-luck Sat, 15 Apr 2023 16:13:33 +0000 Alix Emery https://alixemery.com/no-luck No Luck 2023 Animations and writing. No Luck is based on an imagined monologue of Mary Ball’s death mask who received the death penalty after poisoning her husband. It looks at different people’s truths and lies, silences and voices. You can read more about her here. Trigger warning: references violence, domestic violence, gaslighting, death, suicide, capital punishment. She handed me the other glass and said, “To happiness.” “Drink to the endless days that will be tomorrow.” I remember taking the glass back to the bottle and draining another cup of this thing called happiness. I had never wished to live before I knew you. If I could die now. When I am happy. That would be happiness to me. Just say die and I’ll die. You don’t believe me? Then try, there’s no harm in trying. Say die and watch me die. We watched the sun set again and then again – many times. All, helplessly and forever, through stories and histories but who could tell where we went between these histories? Find and seek’s not our game. Everybody knows that things appear from nowhere, from no one knows where. But if you ask me everybody knows. The rumours I’ve heard stretch very far from the truth. It is better not to talk of it. Better not to tell. I don’t know if I could believe what they was telling me. It lived in a place between audiences and actors, truth and fiction, wanting and having, acting and being. That was his way too. You ask if there’s another side. There’s always another side. Always. But then he hears so many stories he doesn’t know what to believe. I began to wonder how much of this was true, how much imagined, twisted. Was it him, or was it me? Darkness came, and it came quickly. Not a night or darkness I knew but night with glaring stars, an alien moon – night full of strange noises. Hushed, muted, growing louder, more persistent, strong, inescapable sounds. Look. And look again you hypocrite, he says, before you judge me. I get the sense that there’s things hidden because people do not want to see what they see or know what they know. “I learned to hide it.” Yes, better not to tell them. Better not to tell. I can hide and kill time too – for the moments in the future when you are only a memory to shut away. And all memories become confused, melodramatic and unreal after a time. “I managed to hold her wrist with one hand and the vodka with the other, but when I felt her jaws clamp into my skin I dropped the bottle. It smashed and the smell filled the room. I was mad and she saw it. She smashed another bottle against a wall and stood with the broken glass in her hand and murder in her eyes.” “You touch me once, she said. And you’ll find out if I’m a gutless fuck like you are.” “She doesn’t understand what she says. Her perception is skewed, fleeting and uncertain, then quickly suppressed. I ran away from her and didn’t speak about it because I thought if I told no one it might not be true. A sort of consciousness smothers what she thinks she might know but doesn’t want to know. She is surrounded by people acting the parts she has forced them into. She is cleverer than you give her credit for. In the wax of her eyes you can see that she knows she has her own tricks which could always rescue her. Feelers grow when feelers are needed and claws grow when claws are needed. Did I see it all before and refuse to admit it? Everything was too much. She lies about me and is so sure you will believe her and not listen to the other side. But there is always another side. Always.” “It doesn’t matter,” he said, “what I believe, or you believe, because we can do nothing about it.” I puffed out a cloud of smoke. A bag of air: that’s all my life is. Caught in a cloud, air and dew. I don’t know what I am like now. I remember seeing myself in a mirror and seeing my eyes look back at me. The person l I saw was myself but not quite myself. She never blinks at all it seems to me. Large, fake, strange eyes. Trying to protect herself with silence and a blank face. Poor weapons. They have not armed her much or helped her long. A waxwork’s copied life leads to all sorts of ideas of the life that has left them. An eerie condition, a trance, she has migrated elsewhere, either to somewhere in this world, or to somewhere else. Shall I wake her up and listen to the things she says? Maybe. Her face is still blank, no expression at all. “Is he badly hurt?” “More stunned than hurt.” I heard a clock ticking. “Once,” she said, “I used to sleep with a knife under my pillow so that I could fight back if I were attacked. That’s how scared I was.” “Scared of what?” “Of nothing. Of everything.” I got up and drew the blinds. The sky was a weaker colour than I’d imagined and the sea slunk stealthily backwards and forwards, still drowsy. There was no sun and the air was worn out and sterile, greasy-warm, as if thousands of other people had breathed it in before. It was one of those days when you feel the ghosts of all the other good days gather up around you. You end up drinking a bit and watch the ghosts from the bottom of a glass. I liked watching one eat fruit. His teeth would grip into the fruit and his lips press around it, and while he sucked you saw he was perfectly happy. When he finished he would always lock eyes and grin like a conspirator. He would always laugh, but whenever he spoke he seemed sad. He doesn’t recognise me now. I saw him look at me and his eyes liquidated, first going to one corner and then to the other, not finding anything to hold onto. I woke up and heard something whistle long and sad. What was that? Something came out from my heart into my throat and then into my eyes. A fly buzzed around me. I couldn’t think apart from it was winter and too late for flies, or too soon, or something, where did it come from? “And where does this escape lead to?” She was watching me. “You think there is a place to escape to?” “How can you ask that. You know there is.” “I’ve never seen this place so how could I know?” “So you do not believe there is a place outside of this?” She blinked and replied quickly. “I didn’t say I don’t believe, I said I don’t know. I know what I’ve seen with my eyes and I know I’ve never seen it.” “Sometimes when you do things you’re not sure about it brings you luck. It changes your luck. Haven’t you ever noticed?” “There is no luck,” she said. “But you don’t know that.” “No luck.” “If I could take you with me, because you’re telling me it is only in my head.” They saw everything they wished to see. And saw nothing they didn’t. I don’t know how much time passed before I started to turn cold. The light shifted; the shadows were long. It can be like a cold dark dream here sometimes. I want to wake up. But how can all these people, their houses and their streets be fake? I still don’t know why but, suddenly, I was certain that everything I had imagined to be true was false. Truly false. Only the fantasies and delusions were true – all the rest was a lie. I often wonder who I am now and where I’m supposed to be and who I should have been to who. Yes this must be a dream. “No, this is fake and like a dream,” she thought. I was undecided, uncertain about facts – any fact. The sense of safety had left me. You are trying to change me into something else, calling me by another name. Her back faced me and she was still, sleeping. The noiselessness was disturbing, absolute. Surely now it’s my turn to sleep – a long deep sleep and very far away. I lied down motionless, breathing steadily with my eyes closed. I felt sick. My eyeballs felt so big inside my head, rolling around like pinballs. I opened them again to try and steady them staring at a spot on the ceiling. I looked at it not blinking and it became two spots, pink and green. The two spots buzzed very quickly, one away from the other. They hovered about six inches apart and stretched bigger. Two eyes watching at me. I watched back. Then I had to blink and the entire thing started over again. I must have been dreaming because I was very tired after this. Very tired.&nbsp; “This isn’t how I imagined it to be.”&nbsp; “I know. It never is.”&nbsp; Finally I slept. When I woke I was somewhere else. Colder. It was then, I think, that I lost my way home. “You look like you’ve caught a fever.” “Oh, I’ve caught that before.” “There’s no end to the times you can catch a fever. I am sorry for you.” “What?” “Nothing.” It felt to me as if something was following me, something was hunting me down, laughing. At times I looked left and right but never behind me because I did not want to see the ghost who they say haunts this place. No. I won’t look. Forget it and I told myself I forgot. In a different time a death mask was made. A body buried within prison walls. The gallows built and a crowd gathered. The chaplain held her hand over a candle - not to be unkind, but to ready her for a fresher hell. Your head will be their trophy and themselves its victims. It’s all a question of justice. Justice! I’ve seen that word. I’ve heard that word. It’s a cold word. I tried it out, wrote it down. I wrote it down several times and it always looked like a damn cold lie to me. There is no justice. You’re blind when you want to be blind and deaf when you want to be deaf. Things kept hidden whisper but are never heard, willed on by forced forgetting. No one talks of those things now. They are forgotten, apart from the lies. Lies are never forgotten, they last and they grow. “Why do you pester me about all these things that happened so long ago? When the old days go, let them go. There’s no use grabbing at them, this world doesn’t last long for us.” It was not a safe game to play. Want, hate, life, death came very close together in the dark. Better not know how close. Better not think. “Perhaps she lied for a long time with the belly ache I give her. You look alive but that plastic smile’s back – screwed onto your face. The mask was made of wax, moulded over the whole face, closing her eyes. No eyes, maybe, no mouth, maybe not.” Pull yourself together. A creepy stillness made me see the blanks in my head that can’t be filled up. A memory of touching something passed in my mind. I am no longer a toy, but a kind of ghost. Even the wrinkles on my face have been caught and smoothed out a by wax’s own unwrinkled skin. The strange translucence and slight sweatiness of the wax coats the museum display, a sleeping figure, the fairy tale and its expected prince, a dreaming figure with hope, an inner life. I remember once we kissed but nothing like that. That was the life and death kiss. You only realise a long time afterwards what that is. “I put my arms around her to keep her up, I kissed her, but she pulled away.” “Your mouth is colder than my hands.” I tried to laugh. Our mortality melted, broke down like bodies do. But her wax tricked death, copied life, validated truth and lies. Preserved the dead. This is not for you and not for me. It has nothing to do with either of us. That’s why you’re scared of it; because it is something else. It promises sleep, but a different sleep. The seconds pass and each one was a thousand years. Hours and hours and hours I thought. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Nights and days and days and nights, hundreds of them slipping away. But that doesn’t matter. Time means nothing. It is not something you can touch and hold. Everything is still here, fixed for ever. https://alixemery.com/just-a-bit-dizzy Wed, 09 Dec 2020 06:20:08 +0000 Alix Emery https://alixemery.com/just-a-bit-dizzy Just a Bit Dizzy 2020 24hr performance with spirit levels attached to my nails, measuring the balance of everything I touch <img width="2832" height="4240" width_o="2832" height_o="4240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/7cea1d7c2a295b4d3ed566c4a48660380db28bce8b05b4d7a71fe418838c3941/_DSC1148.jpg" data-mid="91530072" border="0" data-scale="32" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/7cea1d7c2a295b4d3ed566c4a48660380db28bce8b05b4d7a71fe418838c3941/_DSC1148.jpg" />&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <img width="2832" height="4240" width_o="2832" height_o="4240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/29a29e592af42c88fd13bafd0d02ab45dda3dba97a73746af7b6fea396ece3f1/_DSC1170.jpg" data-mid="91530077" border="0" data-scale="32" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/29a29e592af42c88fd13bafd0d02ab45dda3dba97a73746af7b6fea396ece3f1/_DSC1170.jpg" /> <img width="4240" height="2832" width_o="4240" height_o="2832" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5461048926958a8766c102e557e6949c87018738ab766a1afe1b1f7a5349176a/_DSC1142.jpg" data-mid="91530070" border="0" data-scale="84" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5461048926958a8766c102e557e6949c87018738ab766a1afe1b1f7a5349176a/_DSC1142.jpg" /> <img width="2832" height="4240" width_o="2832" height_o="4240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a4687ca776c8f33d0656b432f968c75bd5e5ea0d0a5120f9af565072d9c25e6f/_DSC1151.jpg" data-mid="91530073" border="0" data-scale="32" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a4687ca776c8f33d0656b432f968c75bd5e5ea0d0a5120f9af565072d9c25e6f/_DSC1151.jpg" />&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <img width="2832" height="4240" width_o="2832" height_o="4240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/63fef9f7f9bcb5ce1aae070ce088d258938e646b3b02cd4032dbd59272f23d57/_DSC1162.jpg" data-mid="91530074" border="0" data-scale="32" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/63fef9f7f9bcb5ce1aae070ce088d258938e646b3b02cd4032dbd59272f23d57/_DSC1162.jpg" /> <img width="1368" height="2048" width_o="1368" height_o="2048" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2dc1ade6fac36f9723921729336fbf48c55b37ae1cec28c604e9aaaba9446273/_DSC1190.jpg" data-mid="91530078" border="0" data-scale="32" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2dc1ade6fac36f9723921729336fbf48c55b37ae1cec28c604e9aaaba9446273/_DSC1190.jpg" />&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <img width="2832" height="4240" width_o="2832" height_o="4240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5a290ce09f49ad366569d83e0583a53da30fd4035733ed9e7828713c7c2e2290/_DSC1164.jpg" data-mid="91530076" border="0" data-scale="32" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5a290ce09f49ad366569d83e0583a53da30fd4035733ed9e7828713c7c2e2290/_DSC1164.jpg" />&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <img width="1368" height="2048" width_o="1368" height_o="2048" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2f2aba9a594f1a6eb5342ce10350f1d7c3c8d3f66a501c89aa389b8e1c23346b/_DSC1192.jpg" data-mid="91530079" border="0" data-scale="32" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2f2aba9a594f1a6eb5342ce10350f1d7c3c8d3f66a501c89aa389b8e1c23346b/_DSC1192.jpg" /> https://alixemery.com/Work-Aesthetic Mon, 04 May 2020 16:40:38 +0000 Alix Emery https://alixemery.com/Work-Aesthetic Work Aesthetic <img width="960" height="1280" width_o="960" height_o="1280" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e16afdb2ec97d0d04ab1f42f561b0297a3a24694bb8fdabba99709a6444eff4f/0db6b0d4-67e0-49aa-8d28-47541b7c42aa.1280x1280.jpg" data-mid="70159376" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/960/i/e16afdb2ec97d0d04ab1f42f561b0297a3a24694bb8fdabba99709a6444eff4f/0db6b0d4-67e0-49aa-8d28-47541b7c42aa.1280x1280.jpg" /> 2019 Work Aesthetic 89 Gloucester Road <img width="3456" height="4608" width_o="3456" height_o="4608" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/cf1140980af68268829282a6a2816120e2a187b1d756e716992851c4940642db/IMG_20191209_130118.jpg" data-mid="70159404" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/cf1140980af68268829282a6a2816120e2a187b1d756e716992851c4940642db/IMG_20191209_130118.jpg" /> 2019 Work Aesthetic 89 Gloucester Road <img width="2217" height="3135" width_o="2217" height_o="3135" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1737241e20ddafd79370d5fa29578b059b138dab4486e699032ac10ec471ecec/work-aesthetic-A5.jpg" data-mid="69725612" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1737241e20ddafd79370d5fa29578b059b138dab4486e699032ac10ec471ecec/work-aesthetic-A5.jpg" /> 2019 Work Aesthetic <img width="4608" height="3456" width_o="4608" height_o="3456" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c71492a78f14cf1d3c5a78edea448745a44e733e3d928396535ecdbd08609baf/IMG_20191209_131017.jpg" data-mid="70159405" border="0" data-scale="95" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c71492a78f14cf1d3c5a78edea448745a44e733e3d928396535ecdbd08609baf/IMG_20191209_131017.jpg" /> 2019 Work Aesthetic 89 Gloucester Road