Utter … (2022)
Ceramic, welded mild steel, wood, silk and seeds
Utter … talks about the decay of love and desire, the rot of hearts domesticated.
An attempt to speak … a phrase half spoken. The apple is a skull, vulnerable to gravity and destruction, bone moulded by society, inherently female.
The pole represents our spine wrought by living. The smeared wax and clay represents our flesh - abject decay and weighted earth. The ash is broken promises, the dust we leave. The position in space speaks of the rhythm of an unfinished poetic utterance. Three iambic feet, three heart beats, followed by a pregnant pause, the silence of two iambics.
About the Artist
Louisa Maxim is an Australian-British emerging artist studying and practicing on both Gadigal Country in Sydney (UNSW Art & Design) and in rural Somerset in the UK. She has background in theatre and film.
Transcription
Hello, my name is Louisa Maxim. My work is called 'Utter'.
It's a piece that talks about the decay of love and desire, the rot of hearts domesticated. It's an attempt to speak two phrases half spoken. The steel uprights, three rods strong, represents our spine wrought by living. The object above is a fruit, an apple, skull like, vulnerable to gravity and destruction, a bone moulded by society, inherently female. The raw smeared clay and soil at the base represents our flesh, abject decay and weighted earth. The Ash, if still there, if the wind has not taken it, is promises, some kept, some broken. The dust we leave.
The position in space speaks of the rhythm of two unfinished poetic utterances, three iambic feet, three heartbeats, da-da, da-da, da-da, followed by a pregnant pause, the silence of two iambics, a young life lost. I heard about my young friend who had died. I was here in Sydney and she died in London, consumed by cancer, and she left a young daughter. My grief led me to start to make something, and Utter is the result. I think that I will lace it with scarlet and carmine and blood coloured silk. After grief comes a need to celebrate the life. No longer earth bound. It stands here at Rookwood Cemetery, a place of love lost, grief and maybe hope.
I wonder if the plant life here will gradually populate the work and in some way complete the half spoken phrase, bringing it in some way back to a new life?