Four female artists used film and photography to investigate role reversal, sexual ambiguities and voyeurism.
‘Empty Porn Sets’
The soundtrack of a porn photo shoot, with the photographer at times resembling a trainer telling a dog to do tricks, is juxtaposed against projected images of the empty sets. At points the dialogue is disturbing, banal and humorous, but never sexy. Little is given away in the images themselves, only the occasional sex toy or stiletto breaks up interiors that swing between the vapid and the surreal. The underlying messages are clear and graphic. Women are a ghostly presence in these pictures. We use our imaginations to fill in the gaps. 'Empty Porn Sets is accompanied by a surround sound, 'Implicit Design' constructed from the original monophonic recording of the photo-shoot, by Sound Designer, Rhys Davies.'
The work looks at the pleasure of looking at another as an erotic object from a female perspective. With the aim of engaging a new audience, Julie Cook organised a series of male performance evenings that gave the opportunity for men to perform burlesque. The work was photographed at the Working Men’s Cub in Bethnal Green, East London - a venue that still exists as a Working Men’s Club but has been recently rejuvenated by a fresh and fashionable audience.
‘Playing the Field’ (working title)
Working within the genres of [documentary] portraiture and documentary photography, Moira Lovell’s practice draws attention to debates surrounding the third wave of feminism confronting issues of control, femininity and power. This body of work looks at female footballers. Photographing the players in the changing rooms directly after matches, Lovell investigates the passion that the players hold for the game and the relationships between team members. Traditionally the sport has always been played, watched and run by men. With women involved in professional football at all levels, Lovell investigates new boundaries of femininity and masculinity, and how playing the sport and competing is expressed within a female context.
‘Ras al Jinz’
Ras al Jinz is being shown here as a work in progress. The viewer is pulled through a hypnotic journey. A miniature prehistoric realm unfolds. Fragile hybrid creatures emerge, composed of found animal bones. They preen, grate and caress. Their scratchy rotations echo the mechanical workings of the track, winding each frame through the aged bolex camera. Death has altered these beings’ relationship to purposeful action, time and desire. In a queer disruption of the reproductive imperative, hybridisation releases them from the boundaries of specification. Ras al Jinz is named after a remote peninsula in Oman, where most of these bones were found.