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Andy Edwards
Self portraiture is often no more than a private dialogue between lovers, families or friends. Images with closed, limited circulation; shot in unselfconscious ways as evidence or as a visual diary. This private world of Me-ness, that has Me at the centre and all else in orbit, is fascinating and hidden. My work, Torrid, is a difficult mix of uninvited exposure, voyeurism, fiction and authenticity.
Ideally I'd have done a project that involved the forced evacuation of an entire street, the seizing of everyone's photo albums, and an exhibition of the resulting images in strict formal categories. These photos are personal and local, they aren't meant for exhibition outside domestic contexts. In Torrid, discovering this closed world is to intrude on it, problematically turning the diaristic and personal in to a re-articulated voyeuristic and aestheticised experience.
Torrid is an entirely fictional falling-out-of-love story written around a handful of torn photos. I found them blowing across Potternewton Park, Leeds, while walking the dog. They're evidence of a traumatic break-up, ending with a symbolic performance of shredding images of happier times in a public space by the woman.
All the rips and tears are as I found them, including the carefully torn castration.
Torrid: photo-love-fragments
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