To Believe Oneself to Be Death

TBP HQ, Docklands
March, 2018

A series of manipulated sketches of Santiago, Chile - the Teatro Municipal and a walk up Cerro San Cristóbal to the statue of the Virgin Mary.

“Bad luck doesn't have any chinks in it," he said with deep bitterness. "I was born a son of a bitch and I'm going to die a son of a bitch.”
- One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Camila Galaz - to believe oneself to be death - TBP-1072.jpg

Exhibition Response by Kalinda Vary -

I’m on the late-vline headed home after epic day to Bendigo and back. In-between flickering foliage and snaps of brown, I showed the students the number of different ways you can display a moving image - projector, phone, old television etc. in this case the television was upside down. You could barely tell.
In the case of the upside down television the image was actually the right way around ~
Can you tell which way round your paintings go? - {do I call them paintings? Collages? Prints? Drawings?} they have those edges, the careful side slices that don’t quite meet.
Sideways-secrets, loved and covered. They were drawings, right?Independent isolated impressions which you have ruined with repetition.
I look through them to find just one.
That’s why I like the borders.
I’m in a tropical paradise and I can’t get out. I don’t know how I got here but put the lime in the coconut and there’s all this gnarly rip curl print and put the lime in the coconut the pastel prints are humid and those forms I can’t fold.

When I was younger I had a recurring dream. Sepia toned with crackly clouds I stood there nowhere/somewhere enough to be on clouds; no above or below though
So it doesn’t matter
And the clouds weren’t my friends
They weren’t fairy floss
They disintegrated they shrunk they retract into nothing like burnt hair 
My heart presses my collarbone we are all itching to get out of this memory 
And then the cloud eats itself
And I realise another cloud exists
And the cloud eats itself.

It’s dark outside and my eyes burn. I think they’re dry from LED screens and from concentrating on explaining things.

photography: Christo Crocker