September 18 – 21, 2014.
Wagner+Partner, Booth 32, Unseen Photo Fair Amsterdam |
with artist Miklos Gaál.
Known for creating socially critical works that blur the boundaries of the personal, historical and imaginary – each of the new works in Stellmach’s ongoing series, I Don’t Have a Gun begins with a single film frame, scanned from the artist’s 1970’s Super-8 home movies inclusive of its black edges. Following detailed intervention by Stellmach, the result becomes a rousing exploration of self-image, taboo and popular culture with insights that are as evocative as they are black. By co-opting images and stories from her life and popular culture, and reinterpreting them through the addition of pink drawings of empowered (yet oddly fragile) women, collage, digital manipulation and handwritten provocative prose – these one-off works become universal. Stellmach’s women whom she affectionately calls either her “babes or bitches” are both alter ego and talisman, and although the ‘guns’ they brandish are ‘loaded’, they are fundamentally weapons of creativity.
READ THE PROSE IN THE PICTURES HERE:
Those stolen goods, voodoo dolls, miscarriages, death wishes, wangdoodlings. Burn them. Ideally in the next bushfire ‘cos burying them in the garden next to Kurt will not suffice. If you live in an area where all the trees are gone you can post them to CJ for her cooking-with-compost compilation. She will transmute them into a hulahooping wall of sound and you’ll be the ant’s pants.
On the wall here, you’re welcome to draw rude shit and cannibalistic dreamings about your boss, mother, sibling or child. Use eyeliner, lippy or – if so inclined – your blood or biofluids. Please learn from my mistakes and resist the fancy to photograph these gushes, believing that anyone will give a damn. Frankly, not even your mistress will. These private squirts are for your eyes-only and best disposed of in the mouth of a ravenous beast.
Lovers, scoundrels, divers. If Jesus doesn’t want you for a sunbeam then call on Crystal. Not only does she turn poo into bling, she also specialises in dead man’s whiskey and fair trade crack. If you perform The Nutbush to the song Rapture whilst singing the lyrics then she’ll throw in half a gram of croc–cock. Better than Interstellar dust and essential if you still want to be pumping at ninety.
See WORKS for more information.