Exhibition: People and Place – Hannah Logan11th September, 2017

When I left high school in 2011 I found out about the Communication Design course on the GSA website, I made a portfolio on the GSA Continued Education course and in 2012 I began my degree; Art school encourages you to put your work on a wall. “Live with your work” is something that my tutor said to me this year, suggesting I place my printed photographs around my flat and studio desk space. I think digital photos can be so easily hidden and forgotten on hard drives, so this process was liberating for me and for my work. This exhibition was my degree show; I graduated from GSA this summer with a B.A in Design after my 3 rd year, so I wasn’t part of the big degree show in June. I really enjoyed putting on the event, and inviting friends, strangers and even Glasgow based photographers whose work I admire to come and see my photographs and selected

During my 6 years of being at The Art School, 2 of which were spent recovering from and coming to terms with having bipolar disorder, I’ve learned about a lot of visual communication rules. I’ve listened to a lot of opinions and views. I’ve looked at Art School from the outside and then from inside out. I’ve taken breaks and then had another go at it. My momentum has been lost at times and I’ve had to work hard to get back onboard.

By making this personal exercise of reviewing the photographs I had taken over the past 6 years into a public exhibition (the first I’d ever hosted) others could join me as I looked for connections and themes, the good bits and the bad bits and for a sense of direction as I look forward. This experience, the feedback and resulting conversations I’ve since had with the audience have given me ideas that I can now explore further. I’m excited to start working as a photographer.

Exhibition: Giulia Colletti presents the work of Adriano La Licata12th May, 2017

In My Defence
In the inner landscape where things lose their form, he becomes both creator and creation. He is just a pool for fun and fear.
It is in the gap between his inside hell and the creation ahead, where the act comes to light. Senses merge, disclosing the untold. They do not point a path, they evoke it. Everything moves within elusive time. Traversing processes of consciousness, he experiments the world. A playful and anarchist attitude betrays everyday oddities.
While transposing the truthfulness of things and subtly subverting their structure, he unearths the conundrum of daily life. Moving as a shaman across madness and wisdom, he loses himself to any change, any discovery, and any failure […]

I Was Restless
[…] Travel more, everyday. Initiate a path, which has already initiated you. Transform something unidirectional into a
multidirectional dynamism. Just explore the reality around you, and then the reality itself will start to investigate you.
Lost, lost, lost! It’s when you feel lost that you find a new self. Abandoning habitual paths is already a way of r-existing.
Unleash the attitude of a vagrant wonder, releasing reality from crystallization. Jump into uncertainty to embrace the
certainty of risk, and laugh at it. Nomadic resistance, move from place to place, from faith to faith,
from fate to fate.

Publication – Psyche19th April, 2017

The first was breathing. The second was pictured. The last was sound.

My right hand can place itself into my left hand. My right hand acts and my left hand listens. I find brokenness in my brokenness. Everything subjective and inside the self as being projected out into the world, objects and events forming intricate chains of meaning. This conveniently proves the damage: A stubborn logic.

There’s a certain surface tension: I see myself falling through the water knowing that it is finite. There is a water-bed beneath it all: splayed limbs naturally act as traction, and also allow me to smoothly swarm, and move through. A clear sediment curls in to the flat of one’s stomach and writes itself into the hair on back of one’s neck. Constantly (or consistently) in a state of drowning, or breathing in some foreign liquid. Unstable lungs fill with screaming ache, but an endless ability to house this liquid. This is falling, or floating, without ground. A relational experience: falling while knowing there’s nothing to fall towards negates the feeling of falling.

Being translated into yourself, and back again, and forth. As in, an incompleteness.

That we sometimes say we translate our inner thoughts and feelings suggests that they are spoken by someone or something other than us, in another language, and subject to other laws of existence, as gases may differ from solids. Things happen concurrently at a near-ish distance. Memories, like the body, have an inside-and-outside, skin as well as insides.

Placing pencil to paper in a few strokes:

Still I can’t see myself.
I still can’t see myself.
I can’t still see myself.
I can’t see my still self.
I can’t see myself still.

In the everyday, we see translation as the process of imperceptibility passing through from one language to another: a set of terms, sets of information rolling from two tongues—not unlike the stacking of glasses, it is a notion built in transparency. It is a process without a beginning, or an end, however. There is no moment in history, or otherwise, where an identity or culture is self-regulated, self sufficient in its own conception, unrelated to anything out of itself or it’s own boundaries. Indeed, we shouldn’t think of cultures as borne of no outside intrusion, nor should we with identities, or texts. Every text has a before-text, and every identity has pre-identity. This is not an exploration of translation in terms of the rendering of ideas authoritatively, and with authenticity (afixed): translation is mediation between two already constituting worlds. There can never be a perfect translation, and there is no such thing.

Immaculate conception is romanticised, and making does not begin cleanly: we are in a world in which emulation or copying or translating ideas is inherent. Creating is acting on that which already exists; it is the act of moving from one space to another and the creating is the movement. It’s not that you, or I, have never thought or said or wanted or conceived or procured something that has never been produced before. It’s not a pure start, and it’s not a pure finish: every translation creates another.

We come to understand the impossibility of transparency, translucency: the self and the other can never truly translate or even know each other. Self and other are exposed as wholly separate rooms.

I recall, or remember, being like, two-years-old and sitting amongst my family. My whiteness is abstracted by the knowledge of its construction. The mixed-raceness of my brothers’ is disturbed by the fact that they’ve grown up apart from their paternal family, away from their blackness and the possibility of aligning their curly hair with anyone apart from each other. I remember watching my mother attempting to brush out their hair and their screaming objection. Movements of misrecognition.

I remember being like, fourteen-years-old and talking with my legs up, in the car, with my knees up and chin tucked between them—talking to my big brother about my perception of his marginalisation, and his adamant denial of all of it. I remember being frustrated. I know that I tried to equate it to something—about the experience of being a girl on the street, and his subsequent denial of women being sexualised-by-proxy, and also that being a negative thing. These were two experiences he didn’t understand, despite the way they correlated, and I feared he’d internalised things he’d been spoonfed, and I don’t think that’s presumptuous. Mixed-race identities dissipate when facing the voidness of one-or-the-other: a sliding scale of relationalism, a fall towards inevitable polarity.

Anyway, excess silently dribbles out and we are left with the untranslatable. To focus on that which is untranslatable, or lost in translation, is not to focus on what is lost but to acknowledge from the start the impossibilities and limits of translation: that which is left over. That which is lost in translation, or caught up in the limits. The left behind bits are unvoiceable, to be viewed in the reflection of a word, or gloss of an image, the smallness of gesture, and without, heard in silences. We are defined just as much by what we are as by what we are not.

The hand touched the hand.

A hand struck a chord.

The weight of water is dependent on its temperature.

The boat sank with all the weight.

The image functioned mimetically.

That which constitutes a boat is in constant flux.

The image depicted a line.

The bodies decided.

The tiles were stacked.

The object was commodified.

Space was taken up.

The privilege was nullified by the goodness of intention.

The coffee let off steam.

A girl screamed and cried.

The words all together sounded better.

The point was lost.

Psyche is a publication embracing creative writing in the areas of politics, mental health, sustainability and creativity. If you are interested in a copy please email psychepublication@gmail.com or copies are available in Good Press or Aye-Aye Books at the CCA.

Exhibition: Joanna Yang – An Investigation of Chinese Typography23rd February, 2017

An investigation of Chinese typography is a sculptural and typographical response of the history and anatomy of Chinese typography. Due to the sheer volume of characters, the development of web fonts and the design of contemporary typography in the Chinese language remains rudimentary compare to other western languages. Phonetic languages that utilise alphabets, such as English, have the ability to quickly develop new typefaces within weeks; whereas a logographic language such as Chinese, with over 50,000 characters, the design process is laborious and often requires years to complete. Joanna Yang’s work examines the structure of Chinese language by decomposing characters three dimensionally through suspending sculptures and recomposing two dimensionally using light and shadow. These typography was further explored through paper cuts and folding techniques which continued to investigate the anatomy and history of Chinese typography.

Exhibition: Kate Madsen – Fruit Grandma23rd February, 2017

Using fruit cuttings and matriarchal crafts as inspiration, Kate Madsen’s Fruit Grandma explores gender roles in art/craft/design through embroidery, textiles and repetitive patterns.



Buzzcut & The Art School – (F)Unnatural: A Club Performance Residency12th December, 2016

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Have you noticed there’s quite a lot of performance happening in clubs recently? Like… a little more than usual. Because we have! And we think this is a super cool thing in BUZZCUT and The Art School’s opinion! We wanted to put our heads, hands and hearts together to help continue this?

The Art School and BUZZCUT are teaming up to invite submissions from Scotland-based artists looking to develop new performances for club environments. We welcome applications from artists working in the blurry, murky worlds between live art, contemporary performance and visual art who are looking to develop their practice in this area. This residency project can be most useful to an artist who is currently really in need of rehearsal space. Glasgow is really struggling to provide rehearsal rooms and space for performance makers, and this project is keen to help!

What you’ll get:

– Minimum of 4 paid gigs (£50 per gig) over a two-month period at selected club nights in the Art School.
– Events will be selected based on your individual practice in conversation with BUZZCUT & The Art School.
– Rehearsal and Meeting space on availability ( Minimum 1 full day per week)
– Rider provided
– Mentorship from the Art School and BUZZCUT and their associated artists from Scotland and further afield
– Opportunities to collaborate with students across Glasgow.
– Small materials budget
– Documentation of your work (Dependent on permission from the individual club nights)


We have three slots available:

– February – March 2017
– April – May 2017
– June – July 2017

What we’re looking for:

We’re looking for artists whose work doesn’t fit into traditional categories of theatre, dance, music or poetry. The residency is not for a gigging poet or band/musician, however these practices may be incorporated into the pieces you develop. We’re looking for artists who want to consider how their practices may be adapted for a loud, busy, boozy club context.

If you plan to use this residency and rehearsal space as part of a wider project you are engaged in we’d love to hear about it. This is not essential by any means?

The work you create must have a performative element but can be any length or any location in The Vic Bar. The artist must be based in Scotland. Artists based outside of Glasgow may still apply but we will sadly not be able to cover travel or accommodation costs.

We will not be accepting applications from Undergraduate or Postgraduate students.

How to apply:

Send your application by email to Lewis Prosser lewis@theartschool.co.uk  with the subject line ‘Art School Residency – Your Name’ and include:

– Name:

– Address:

– Phone number:

– Email Address:

– Up to 600 words on your practice, the work you want to develop as part of the residency and why this is important and interesting to you at this time:

  • Any supporting documentation you have of your work (videos, pictures):
  • Which 2-month slot(s) are you available for?:

The deadline for applications is Friday 6th January 2017

We look forward to reading your applications!

BUZZCUT & The Art School

Exhibition: Escapement – Enya Zia Fortuna & Blair Coron | Curated by Skaiste Klaniute5th August, 2016


This newly commissioned live performance portrays a phantasmagorical depiction of labour. The title refers to the 13th century invention of the escapement, an early form of minimal clockwork consisting of a coiled spring and pendulum that allowed it to oscillate at a steady pace. The spread of portable watches played a key part in shaping modern society during the industrial revolution. The clock was used to synchronise labour and quantify productivity. Trapped in a tightly orchestrated cycle of production, Fortuna and Coron invoke and subvert ideas about the repercussions of time, work and discipline in contemporary society.

Enya Zia Fortuna (b. 1992, Kranj, Slovenia) is a visual artist based in Glasgow. Enya works primarily with performance, yet integrating elements from theatre, film and installation.

Blair Coron (b.1991, Fife, Scotland) is a musician/composer based in Glasgow. His musical inspiration comes from a multitude of avenues, ranging from folk, post rock, classical, minimalism, hints of electronic and ambience.

Tickets are free and can be booked here via Eventbrite.

Escapement is presented as part of the 2016 Graduate Degree Show at the Glasgow School of Art

Exhibition: Vivian Li – Spatial Construct29th June, 2016

Exhibition: Marianne Mcara29th June, 2016

Exhibition: Rattakhate Puksuk – Planet Earth is Blue29th June, 2016

In 2013, I heard the news about send people to Mars and live on Mars but never come back. This project call Mars-One project and run by a company in Netherland. The reason why is this a one-way trip because of technology.

Bas Lansdorp, head of the Mars-One project: On this world we have all the technology we need to get humans to Mars and keep them alive there. What we don’t have is the technology to get people from Mars back to Earth. The people who will be going to Mars in our missions will be settling on Mars permanently. They’ll be doing it for the rest of their lives (BBC World Service). For this project, the company wants to send only human who have specific skills as well as healthy both of mentally and physically.

I try to following about this project and news but not much that I found with many reasons. For me,It is seem to exiting and concerning at the same time when I heard the news like this. It is quite delightful that mankind can explore realm of technology, space, planet beyond the earth but at the same time I a bit worrying about the future of this blue planet that what it going to be next.

OK, find the new home, Just that.

– Rattakhate Puksuk