fabric stretched between hands,

taut.

a foam letter,

ink-soaked,

pressed into skin.

ink saturated fibre,

pooled where pressure lingered,

bled into the weave—

slowly, unevenly.

marks shifted,

altered by weight,

held in tension,

registering the movement of bodies.

the exhibition opened with co-laboured imprinting—we pressed (il)legible text onto one another’s bodies, fragments of language passed through movement and contact. this tactile dialogue unfolded as embodied negotiation, shaped by resistance, proximity, return. as imprinting accumulated and travelled—hands to surfaces—the audience joined: stamping, rearranging, altering the unfolding text.

language dispersed across skin, fabric, space.

foam letters, ink trays, and cheesecloth formed a material vocabulary through which concrete poetry emerged. language moved with the body—pressed, transferred, absorbed—animating text as a responsive participant in a live visual field. the project explored the palimpsest accumulation of language on the bodies of participants. drawing from print techniques and choreographic practice, we worked shoulder-to-shoulder—pressing, lifting, shifting. inscription became a felt negotiation: texture, friction, fatigue, refusal.

the body acted as surface and agent—receiving, resisting, translating.

the architecture held the imprint too. language pressed against window glass—separating us, connecting us. it absorbed each gesture: smudges, reversed text, breath-fogged panes. marks held momentarily, then slipped. the barrier registered proximity—touch without contact.

cloth tubes bracketed our bodies.

they marked a pause where breath held and meaning slipped sideways.

what did it mean to press a word into a body?

who marked?

who was marked?

who consented?

who resisted?

language was never neutral.

inscription unfolded through motion—

a choreography of force,

of held tension,

registering pressure, shifting with contact.

a word reached for a body.

a body moved toward a word.
smudges, smears, traces, ghosts—

the remnants of touch.

what remained when bodies left the space?

cloth, ink, fragments.

glass bearing the memory of proximity.

what does the movement of ink embody?

Photography: Lachlan Kirkwood
Credit: Petra Mingneau (tiny fest)
Amy Griffin (theend)