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taken, developed, and scanned by zack mennell.
taken, developed, and scanned by zack mennell.
2023
zack’s work on (para)site continues with practice based research into alternative and sustainable photochemical processes, developing new writing, and generating new textile works for display. They are currently seeking residencies, further funding, and appropriate commissioning opportunities.
They have forthcoming writing being published this year as part of Dolly Sen’s Wellcome Trust & Unlimited co-comissioned project Birdsong From Inobservable Worlds.
Upcoming:
An Ambulance to the Future (The Second Chance) - Martin O'Brien
Thursday 18th May at Whitechapel Gallery, London
zack will be assisting Martin in the creation of new works during his year as writer-in-residence at Whitechapel Gallery.
“Mixing video, live performance action and parables, this performance imagines a world in which immortality is possible. Drawing on stories of immortal people, it paints the picture of life lived over and over again, a life that doesn’t need water or oxygen, a life without the promise of an end point. It is a meditation on endings and new beginnings. With his usual intensity and wit, this work continues O’Brien’s explorations of the politics of death by asking what the idea of immortality can help us understood about being mortal. “


The Last Breath Society: Coughing Coffin
by Martin O’Brien at ICA London, 2021.
photos by zack mennell.
by Martin O’Brien at ICA London, 2021.
photos by zack mennell.
Previously:
photos by Stephanie Chung, 2023.
(para)site: a blockage - Pipe Dreams
Saturday 1st April at Chisenhale Studios
zack was invited to perform a two and a half hour site-responsive work by curators Stephanie Chung & Priscilla Lo as part of their three day programme at Chisenhale Studios.
Saturday 1st April at Chisenhale Studios
zack was invited to perform a two and a half hour site-responsive work by curators Stephanie Chung & Priscilla Lo as part of their three day programme at Chisenhale Studios.
There's a faulty dam in my bladder, trying to stop the urea-tainted waters inside me from mixing with the tainted waters and vapours outside me, but semi-regularly it leaks or gives way altogether. My mind is no different.
I step into this place so close to sites-of-trauma it can feel like drowning in air. I stretch my body along the towpath and let the cyclists, joggers, walkers, and dogs leave their treads in my puffy super-absorbant plastic flesh. No different from the shopping trolleys, tires, bicycles, bottles and pipes, the silt of the canal bed calls out to me, sludgy and fluffy.
I step into this place so close to sites-of-trauma it can feel like drowning in air. I stretch my body along the towpath and let the cyclists, joggers, walkers, and dogs leave their treads in my puffy super-absorbant plastic flesh. No different from the shopping trolleys, tires, bicycles, bottles and pipes, the silt of the canal bed calls out to me, sludgy and fluffy.