Corrective Experience No. 2

This piece of work uses a voice recording, a set of photographs and a script of corrective experience. The voice recording is of the corrective experience exercise given to the artist by her therapist. As you listen to the recording, the listener is instructed to go to the street that they lived on before they were seven years old. When the artist performs this exercise it is impossibly easy to visualise this street, as the same year she started therapy, was the same year that she had visited this street for the first time in ten years. Following this realisation, she simply had to make this piece of work, as it seemed to her that she had of her own accord gone looking for the child within, something that her therapist was trying to teach her to do with her imagination. These are the photographs she took during her visit to Besley Street, SW16 6BD.

Cry Home (2018) Acrylic on canvas, 3x acetate prints.

'Cry Home' (2018) is a visual art representation of the process of ancestral DNA analysis that Sinckler is currently undertaking via DNA swab, posted to the internet, awaiting results. Almost immediately after the swab was posted, the artist began to long to learn more about the Arawak people and/or the indigenous folk of the pre-colonial Caribbean. In the search for a connection, she happened upon the original names of the islands that her paternal grandparents are from and 'Cry Home' is what happened next. Show at In Residence curated by the Glasgow School of Art People of Colour Society, 16 Nicholson St, Glasgow. 5* review in The Skinny 

‘pick me up and throw me down again’ (2018). Photo by Rachel Byrne.

‘pick me up and throw me down again’ (2018). Photo by Rachel Byrne.

pick me up and throw me down again (2018); a printed meme, a piece of text, 4 'empty' nails in the wall and a drawing placed on the floor. This piece of work is a statement on the fickleness of emotion/attachment and romance.

It features a found meme, a lament written by the artist and an artwork gifted to her by a past lover, titled ‘How our bodies fit together’. When exhibited, pick me up and throw me down again plays with authorship, with no signifier to who created each aspect of the final piece. The anxiety of the artist, when exhibiting such a personal text, homed in on the fact that a cursor was visible, and pondered if a guest would take this as a clue towards the author. A meme is, of course, a meme i.e. “an element of a culture or system of behaviour passed from one individual to another by imitation” so whilst it is possible that the artist could have created the meme, within the meme is contained a historical artefact. And by exhibiting the meme in this way, the artist contributes to and continues the potentially infinite existence of the meme phenomenon. Lastly, we have the sketch and the nails to which it used to be attached to. There is absolutely no signifier of the real author of this work apart from if the viewer possesses a familiarity with each artist’s work and can point out ‘hey this wasn’t you this was {blank}’. The idea of that happening is exciting to the artist, but unlikely.

pick me up and throw me down again carries a theme of union followed by separation. This is described in the meme and the text. A union of bodies is expressed in the drawing, and the seperation expressed physically by the distance between the nails that held it to the wall, the wall itself and the drawing upon the floor. During the exhibition, a series of conscientious guests would re-attach the drawing to the wall for fear that it had fallen accidentally. This is a beautiful metaphor for the human nature of love and union. 

pick me up and throw me down again was exhibited at Calm Down, Dear at Where People Sleep.

‘Anne Marie Morris’ (2017). Digital print, A3.

Spurred from a racial slur made by a Conservative politician in July 2017, Anne Marie Morris (2017) is a response to the indisputable fact that extremely problematic attitudes exist in the UK Government. This piece is a call for awareness in regards to how these attitudes affect public policy and the way the people of Britain are perceived and treated by those in power. Using imagery from a 1904 silent film, which bears the title identical to the phrase that the said politician remarked, juxtaposed with contemporary images of colonial remnants and the consequences of barbaric and negligent policy illustrates what the said politician must be comfortable to be affiliated with after uttering those words. (Exhibited in Fields of Wheat - Member’s Show 2017, Transmission, Glasgow.) 

Response to The Other’d Artist (2017), digital collage. Commissioned by Transmission.

world (2017) embroidered cap, cotton gloves and mirror.

world (2017). mobile phone mounted on wall = selfies 

‘world’ (2017) is a comment on the prevalence of sexual violence within our world, but specifically to the way in which society (and the individuals that society is composed of) reacts to it. Inspired by the artist’s personal experiences, from anecdotes from friends and acquaintances to recent high profile cases such as Bill Crosby, Dr Luke and Harvey Weinstein, this installation invites the viewer to interact with the statement of ‘THE WORLD DOES NOT CARE FOR MY CONSENT’. The combination of the wearable cap and the mirror aims to inspire the viewer to enter the work and consider the various components of the statement including what or who the world is, their own experiences with consent and whether they agree or disagree with the statement itself in a less serious environment. (Exhibited in Gaze, Where People Sleep, Glasgow. June 2017.)

FYEE (2017), digital collage. 

FYEE (2017) relates to the experience of a mixed race woman of colour when approaching sexual or romantic relationships (or even in cases of unwanted attention and sexual harrassment, the workplace, on a night out etc etc). This project aims to express the rage that can come with being fetishized and exoticised. Inspired by punk culture and the online experience of young mixed race women on Tinder, the final piece shows text super-imposed onto the flags that describe the artist’s heritage; Barbados and Trinidad for the birthplaces of her paternal grandparents, the English flag for her maternal grandparents, and lastly the Scottish flag to represent where she has spent most of her life and has ‘settled’ so to speak. (Exhibited in Wallpaper by MAMA and Art Baby Gallery, Rotterdam. April 2017.)

It Belongs In The Graveyards He Told Me To See (2016), photographs mounted on A3 paper, wool.

In late 2015, the artist became obessessed with the Victorian Magnificent Seven Cemeteries of London and visited the West Norwood branch on her 20th birthday. One day, snow fell and hungover, she went with her Tinder date to take some shots of the Glasgow Necropolis. These photographs became ‘It Belongs In The Graveyards He Told Me To See’ (2016). This piece mourns a lost love, grieving with a haunting graveyard aesthetic. Jal’s image is borrowed from Skins season 2... she is pictured here as an icon of sadness. (Exhibited in Things We Don’t Understand, Where People Sleep, Glasgow. October 2016.)

Have My Cake and Eat It (2016), home-made victoria sponge with food colouring. Related to a text (unreleased) of the same title.

Spread4me.jpg (2016), acrylic on canvas. Sex Education For Girls (2016), transcript. Everything Makes Sense On Paper, inlaid text. Exhibited at grand opening of where people sleep, Where People Sleep, Glasgow. August 2016.

Sex Education For Girls (2016), transcript. Exhibited at grand opening of where people sleep, Where People Sleep, Glasgow. August 2016.

spread4me.jpg (2015), digital collage.

spread4me.jpg (2015) is a visual representation of the artist’s lust, confusion and arrogance of entering and new but complicated relationship.