EDWARD POOLEY

Edward’s work is examining the virus of language that permits us to speak. Behind this implicit notion, his work tries to grapple with an inner tension that is left unresolved at all times in order for an observer to gain entry into his recursive feedback loop, embedded within his work.

Drawing on his childhood, a personal, intuitive view of the emotional landscapes in the boggy, dark, roke-set peat fields of the Fenlands, Suffolk. He figuratively speaking, digests the materials in his practice. Sewing, natural dye’s (wort/tanin/fustic/iron ferrous sulfate, soil), repetition throughout a grid system and distressing material i.e scorching, erasure, submersion and bleaching. Aims at imbuing the surface with utterances that have fallen short or are inaudible, in an attempt to find expression outside of literary language. He states, “Language is a virus. Embattled with the implicit failure this sentence insures. I must become a warrior of my own self consciousness. I move my body, to move my mind, to spin the spur of the moment.”

Shrouding the viewer in tonalities of a singular colour or form, rumination can coalesce and create surface tension or multiplicity. The study of philosophical references from Maurice Blanchot to Guy Debord inform’s the central antagonism of language in his work. The constant meditation on the subject of literary death, and our relationship to the body once deceased.

Drives an attempt to examine his inherited visual understanding of the world. He offers a reading of the symptoms of a society which places all forms of illness, both physical and mental at the furthest reaches of individual daily life.

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