Whether written or spoken, at some point (pointpointpointBLANK, man!) the FKNG narrative has to set in. Without it, with my perpetual rambling, we’ll soon sit on a bloody junkyard of words and then what.
A yunkjard of undecided words. Are we bloody spoken or are we bloody written?! WTF man! And then (YES, narrative, maybe? Wait for it…think Junkyard, Yunkjard, Yunkyard, Junkjard:) Ha, that looks like a smiley! I believe in these things, you know: It’s come to greet me, to say hello, because yes, it, too, believes that I manoeuvred myself out of formal emptiness and may just have arrived at a story:
Ok, here goes: And then, out of a cloud of blue, petrol blue and multi-coloured smoke: A girl emerges. Sort of emerges and steps out at the same time. A double exposed little thing (little think I was gonna write, little think thank tink tank got-yar-boy a wink wank) steps out, totally doubly exposed as in naked and Naked.
What could W. do but hold her tight, you know, shield her from the sharp angles and corners of (my double entendre, ha, no, only kidding) Hold the kid tight in the vain attempt to show her his shield with the emblem of the W. family engraved in it. It’s a tiny little diphthong, an ao. That’s their hereditary thing. She goes Oa! As in full of surprise and the she goes Ao! Because, having looked at the GDMND shield she herself was exposed for the 3rd time and the angles and corners of the (here it take a turn towards plot again) bloody JunkYard scratched her in many ways possible.They even scratched a bloody blazon on her arse cheek: Her family escutcheon, but if I told you what it was you might recognize it, if you know me well, and so No, I won’t describe it any further. I’m sure you can imagine exactly what it was and more.
Let me re-frame.
Let the refrain
be the same
in intention yet spelled out, sung out in the highest registers, the braves vibratos. (You have no idea how hard it is not to comment on this! Register – registrate – vibrate – Made-unmade-made-fade-but-go-forth-and-vibrate)
Listen, Lady plot writer, we can’t go on like this, either you deliver or (OMG I wanna put a hashtag and I can’t find it on my keyboard! WTF!) Hashtag Quiver Quiver Hashtag and vibrate – you’ll succumb to/whazz called in mah neighbourhood/ Hashtag FATE Hashtag
Extract from Sophie Jung ****SoYeah, 2013
Sophie Jung was born in 1982 in Luxembourg and lives and works in London and Basel. Solo exhibitions include Sophie Jung, Centre d’art Dominique Lang, Dudelange, Luxembourg, 2014; Touch that Angel, Touch my Angle, AICA Luxembourg, Luxembourg, 2013; I Like The Way I Cut The Apple, Looks Like A Photo of my Mum, Gallerie L'Escale, Paris, 2012; Wallpainting, Imprimerie Basel. Group exhibitions include: Episode 5: Storytelling insitu, Berlin, 2013; Implausible Imposters, Ceri Hand Gallery, London, 2013; You I Landscape, Carre Rotondes, Luxembourg, 2013; Paperwork Magazine Launch Tour, Bristol Diving School & Inland, Camberwell, 2013; Rencontres International, Palais de Tokyo, Paris/Haus der Kulturen der Welt, Berlin, 2012/13; zeichnen zeichnen, toujours toujours, Kunsthalle Mulhouse, Mulhouse, 2012; Making Of, Casino Luxembourg - Forum d'art contemporain, Luxembourg, 2012; I did it again, Freiburg, Kunsthaus L6, 2011; Teenage Magazines, FOAM, Amsterdam, 2011; Information und Erfahrung, Kunstverein Freiburg, Freiburg, 2011; Electronic Rendez-vous, Plug-In, Basel, 2009.
She has received the Aide à la création et à la diffusion en photographie in 2011, was awarded with the Photo Levallois Prize in 2012, and is nominated for the Edward Steichen Award 2013. She is currently undertaking an MFA in Fine Art at Goldsmiths, University of London.
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For more information please contact Hannah Pierce firstname.lastname@example.org 0207 633 0918 or visit www.cerihand.co.uk