Winged and Limbed
Digital print zine
(Each an) edition of 100
A 15cm X 10.5cm, 37 page colour and B&W zine with a colour cover and cardboard back and a textured green spine.
A 15cm X 10.5cm, 37 page colour and B&W zine with a colour cover and cardboard back and a textured rusted orange spine.
Two of several new zines made especially for the National Gallery of Victoria’s Melbourne Art Book Fair, 2017. Both zines feature reproductions of Salvaged Relatives collages on cartes de visite, grouped according to their companions, be they lions or Hyacinth mackaws.
Modified forelimb, feathered and winging it. Comprised of down, semiplume, and contour feathers: the avian wing. Aerodynamic for flight. Rounded for swiftness of movement. Tapered for acceleration. Broad for soaring, albatross-style. Waterproofed and with afterfeathers for insulation. With wingtip ‘fingers’ to feel the air currents. Tufted about the ears (of an owl), iridescent around the head (of a hummingbird), long and close on the belly (of a duck). From the elliptical wings of sparrows to the swept back, high-speed wings of falcons, their shapes reveal their marvel, their attributes, as diverse in their appearance as their very function. “Cackle, cackle, Mother Goose. Have you any feathers loose?” [i] Not for hat, nor pillow, nor pen neither, but for the chance to see what you see. All I need is “a coat of feathers, and [I’ll] stay in the air indefinitely!” [ii]
Thirty-two Salvaged Relatives upon cartes de visite. With birds. Soaring. Preening. Fanning.
Partnered by Limbed, also an edition of 100.
[i] Mother Goose traditional rhyme.
[ii] Dan Tate, assistant to the Wright brothers at Kitty Hawk, 1902.
Long-limbed, stout-limbed. Four-legged, with a tail, perhaps. Adapted over millions of years, as Cole Porter wrote, ‘Don’t Fence Me In,’ “map[ping]a world [I] want to live in…. [for] without them, we are homeless.” [i] The animal as memory. The animal as a mirror. Our animal side. You are me, and I am you. Grounded. Strong. Joyful. Mortal, “gaz[ing] at the moon till [we] lose [our] senses.” [ii] Wave your limbs. Jangle them loose.
Thirty-two Salvaged Relatives upon cartes de visite. With mammals. Scampering. Climbing. Purring.
Paired with Winged, this zine features a couple of bird blow-ins around the fringe.
[i] Ellen Meloy, Eating Stone: Imagination and the Loss of the Wild (New York: Pantheon, 2005).
[ii] ‘Don’t Fence Me In,’ music by Cole Porter, lyrics by Robert Fletcher and Porter, 1934.