Is it possible to perform acts of preservation and enjoy yourself too? Does our public self make apparent our historic reassurances? How long can you carry a past-self with you, before you slip back into its skin?
Grappling and stuttering, words that describe the questioning above, also describe the beginnings of this project. Feeling a loneliness and a need for a space in which to process, the motivations for this project were to dig out a pool for longing, reconciliation, support, resistance.
Camara Taylor, who has been working from their home in Glasgow for the duration of this project, was commissioned with an open brief. Suspiration! (2021) is the continuation of work that was already coming together and in it you will see a paced, gathering of footage;
utterances, lurkings, filmed voices, positions, boiling, messy spills, tactical breaths, vibrating, toes, sand, queefing, music, protest, banners, collision, pining.
When I first heard about Camara’s practice (I think it was 2019), it was from Camara themself, during an artist talk. I remember a blue haze from the projected screen, stories of family, purposeful collapse, points of refusal, honesty and the word recalcitrance¹. (This summary does the talk a great injustice, I’m sure, as it does to Camara’s practice.) Later that year, I saw Camara’s work in the flesh in Glasgow: an A3 poster, exhibited as part of a group of commissioned posters for Queer Times School. I remember being told that exhibition was about ‘the storm’ of building and reconciling with your queer self, not the pride at the end, but that’s besides the point. The poster was a collage, cut and ripped but scanned and stretched. Camara’s poster stuck with me, as an interlocking of time and reassurance, erasure and violence, repetition and determination, embracing and voice. A sentence, pasted to the top left corner of the poster, read: