Kate Fulton
'Panic Bolt' Studio 12
Gertrude Contemporary Art Spaces Melbourne, July 2005
Walking into Kate Fulton’s work made the floor crack underfoot; it consisted of sheet-glass that had been installed over a singular electrical cord that ran the length of the work. The 4-or-so-mm of space opened up by the girth of the cord produced a little layer of space between the actual floor and the newly articulated glass surface, rendering it a horizontal zone engaged in a perpetual process of breakage with every foot of weight. Fulton’s work harnesses little energies and coagulates them together into something visceral. This particular work activates the ‘body’, staging it as a site for the co-mingling of energies. The body gets enveloped by and (almost erotically) involved with the greater force of the work. The work becomes a world that choreographs and registers the body, while in turn being inscribed by it.
On leaving, my clunky backpack came in close contact with one of the walls and they shuddered. I saw that these weren’t the walls that I’d already assumed them to be, but paper screens standing in as walls, waiting to be shredded to bits. This is the kind of work I love; it's always more, different, multiple; an event much greater than the will to know it.
Bianca Hester
see Kate Just's comment
Gertrude Contemporary Art Spaces Melbourne, July 2005
Walking into Kate Fulton’s work made the floor crack underfoot; it consisted of sheet-glass that had been installed over a singular electrical cord that ran the length of the work. The 4-or-so-mm of space opened up by the girth of the cord produced a little layer of space between the actual floor and the newly articulated glass surface, rendering it a horizontal zone engaged in a perpetual process of breakage with every foot of weight. Fulton’s work harnesses little energies and coagulates them together into something visceral. This particular work activates the ‘body’, staging it as a site for the co-mingling of energies. The body gets enveloped by and (almost erotically) involved with the greater force of the work. The work becomes a world that choreographs and registers the body, while in turn being inscribed by it.
On leaving, my clunky backpack came in close contact with one of the walls and they shuddered. I saw that these weren’t the walls that I’d already assumed them to be, but paper screens standing in as walls, waiting to be shredded to bits. This is the kind of work I love; it's always more, different, multiple; an event much greater than the will to know it.
Bianca Hester
see Kate Just's comment
posted by speech at
1:15 PM
1 Comments:
I had a strange response to this work; first I wondered if I was allowed to walk on it, then decided it was probably okay and proceeded slowly. Then I felt a feeling overcome me; it wasn't panic or fear, but homesickness. This work reminded me of walking on ice as a kid (I was born in the USA) both on ponds and bona fide ice rinks, hearing the crackle and movement beneath my feet. I knew the floor would never give out and swallow me up in ice cold water, so I just stood there feeling happy until other people came. Then I left, because other people can ruin experiences like that.
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