02_Kadie Salmon
Fred Mann and New Art Projects are delighted to launch the second of our series of artist publications, conceived as a critical reaction to the restrictions of lockdown. This beautiful book is a monograph of the work of Kadie Salmon, and fully illustrated. We are very grateful to the authors of the supporting essays: Emma Wilson of Cambridge University and Maria Walsh of Chelsea College of Arts. This book continues in our aim of matching the best in critical dialog with the artists we support. We would also like to thank Christian Kusters and Barbara Nassisi of CHK design for their beautiful and sensitive design.
Fred Mann and New Art Projects are delighted to launch the second of our series of artist publications, conceived as a critical reaction to the restrictions of lockdown. This beautiful book is a monograph of the work of Kadie Salmon, and fully illustrated. We are very grateful to the authors of the supporting essays: Emma Wilson of Cambridge University and Maria Walsh of Chelsea College of Arts. This book continues in our aim of matching the best in critical dialog with the artists we support. We would also like to thank Christian Kusters and Barbara Nassisi of CHK design for their beautiful and sensitive design.
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Emma Wilson
Diaphanous
Worlds
4
Asked in interview which work of art she would like to own, Kadie Salmon
selects A Girl with a Dead Canary by eighteenth-century French artist
Jean-Baptiste Greuze. The painting currently hangs in the Scottish National
Gallery. A girl rests her head on her hand, a small bird lying out before her.
The soft feathers on the canary’s breast show its fragility. Tiny pink flowers
and blue fronds encircle the bird. The strange feelings around this once
living pet, now morbidly still, are at the centre of this picture of innocence
and experience. The girl’s delicacy is felt in the textures of her see-through
scarf, the silk of her sleeves, and the blush of her cheek. Her feelings of
sorrow, heightened sensation, and languor, look forward to the unreal,
diaphanous worlds of Salmon’s art. As a photographer, sculptor, and
moving image artist she offers new images of young women, their pleasure,
fear, and imagining. Her latest two projects, Moon Bathing (2018) and
Hunting Razorbills (2019–2020), which I focus on here, come after three
further series, Don’t Know How to Tell (2013–2014), Pale Yellow
(2014–2015), and Blue Grey (2016–2017), all of which in different ways
pursue a fascination with imagining girls in uncanny settings.
Salmon graduated with an MFA from Edinburgh College of Art in
2009, after winning the Tempest Photography Graduation Prize (2007)
and the Andrew Doolan Award for Sculpture (2007). Her work has been
funded by scholarships and awards for the last decade, including support
from Arts Council England, Freelands Foundation and The Henry Moore
Foundation. She works in a variety of media, including photography,
moving image and sculpture. Residencies have been important creatively
in her work and she has undertaken projects in the Arteles Creative
Centre, Haukijarvi, Finland (2013), in Berlin as part of the Artist Studio
Exchange programme (2014), at the Edinburgh Sculpture Workshop
5
(2015), at Lademoen Kunstnerverksteder (LKV), Trondheim, Norway (2016),
in London at the Florence Trust (2016–2017), at Can Serrat, Barcelona,
Spain (2018), and in the London Creative Network, Space Studios
(2019–2020). Her next residency is at Artexte, Montreal (2021). These
residencies, the related displacements, have offered new settings, and real
and sometimes dreamlike landscapes for her projects. The collaborations
they facilitate are also important to Salmon’s ethos. One important meeting
came at Can Serrat where she began working with Canadian-South African
poet Klara du Plessis, whose work, like Salmon’s, is alive to the sensory
world, and, for example, to small changes in light and time. Du Plessis
wrote a series of poems in response to Hunting Razorbills and Salmon
recites one of her poems in moving image work Moon Bathing. Salmon is
also part of an art collective, Captain Lightfoot, she set up with two other
Scottish artists, Emma Pratt and Anneli Holmstrom in 2012, curating
group shows in different cities, including the work of other artists. Meeting
in person, and on location, has been readily supplemented by document
sharing and virtual meetings.
The history of art is also important to her. Salmon has said she is
inspired by the feeling of voyeurism that comes from witnessing intimate
encounters in the opulent landscapes of eighteenth-century French art.
She speaks of her love of visiting The Wallace Collection in London.
This gallery houses Jean-Honoré Fragonard’s The Souvenir and The Swing
with their young girls in rose pink, and Le Petit Parc where figures sit idly
on steps in a pleasure garden. Nearby are François Boucher’s paintings of
nymphs and shepherdesses, and Antoine Watteau’s ethereal fêtes galantes,
their figures almost spectral in the landscape. The Rococo hedonism of
Sanssouci, the summer palace in Potsdam, conceived for pleasure, is also
6
a point of reference for Salmon. Her works uniquely respond to these
eighteenth-century worlds, newly giving them over to female (cis and trans)
imagining. The spaces of her photographs yield access to a strange, pure,
girl imaginary, rarely caught in art, that is indulgent, vivid, and immemorial.
Like filmmaker Maya Deren, or artist Ana Mendieta, Salmon uses
herself, her own body and changing poses and gestures, in her art. She
choreographs herself, attends to herself, appearing, like Deren, sometimes
more than once in the same frame. The effect is uncannily intimate,
eliding the difference between photographer and model, illustrating some
slip or split between images of the self. Salmon explains that there is a
performative aspect to the photographs where she moves in a sequence of
different poses. She says: ‘I often imagine these female figures in tender or
sexualised relationships’. Her images evoke contact, touch, erotic longing,
yet the moments of intimacy they apparently index are illusory, imagined,
existing only in the mind’s eye and through the image’s manipulation.
Beyond the serial images of the motion studies in nineteenth-century
photography, Salmon finds a visual form for wishfulness, experiment,
the shadowy happenings of fantasy and the imagination.
Such images first appear in Don’t Know How to Tell in long-exposure
C-type photographs, taken in Finland, in Barcelona, and in Scotland. In
Don’t Know How to Tell (Record Room), from Barcelona, two girls are
on a bed in an attic room with blood red walls, a scarlet carpet, and record
designs on the ceiling. The girls appear blurry, more diaphanous than their
surroundings. A girl sits back, her hair falling, a pale blouse shielding her,
her thighs bare and legs open. A girl kneels up in front of her, poised to
kiss her. The instant is created in the double exposure of the image, its blur
leaving the feeling that the girls may or may not exist, that this is an image
7
in a hallucination or a dream. These young women, always Salmon and
herself, are glimpsed in other Don’t Know How to Tell photos, in a love
story that seems to take form in these images, relics of imagined encounters.
In a nocturnal resort the girls sit in the distance on the edge of a pool,
reflected in indigo clear water. In a picture taken in Finland they are on a
landing dock, one sitting up and one perched behind her. The midnight sun
is seen above a lake, its water azure like the midsummer night sky.
Salmon returns throughout these works to liquid images and liminal
times and moments. In Don’t Know How to Tell (Scotland), a girl lies out
on the rocks of a Highland stream, and a girl stands above her. The girls
are tiny in the landscape, the image seems hidden, undisclosed, as the forest
around them is wild and remote. They are in natural dusk light that is
blue and silvery. This is the light Salmon prefers, as she captures the ‘last
moments of natural light’, attracted to the moment ‘when our familiar
environment disappears and the relationship with the landscape changes
as visibility vanishes and our other senses are heightened’. The gash of
water between the rocks makes the image the most erotic of the group.
In these photographs, Salmon reimagines, naturalises, Renaissance and
Victorian pictures of water nymphs, showing modern naiads in their own
pristine worlds.
From Pale Yellow on, Salmon hand colours her long-exposure
photographs adding a further layer of tactility and illusion. Tactility has
been important in her work in the large-scale and fragile sculptures that
are part of her practice, where photographs are manipulated to become
three-dimensional forms. She sees photographs and physical structures
supporting each other in a balancing act. Such careful attention to the
handmade, to touch, is there in handcoloured works both sculptural and
8
latterly two-dimensional. The practice of handcolouring dates back to
the nineteenth century and is particularly associated with the labour of
female ‘colorists’ (as Nicole Hudgins has recently explored). By acting
as both photographer and colorist Salmon cuts across the traditional
gendered division of labour, valuing both processes, the capture of the
image and its tinting by hand. This delicate work allows the realising
of an imagined world of colour, adding another layer of illusion and
wishfulness to the photographs. Salmon revives an old technique, in
keeping with her nostalgia for the past, for eighteenth-century painting
and nineteenth-century photography, but imagines it anew as a part of
a personal, intimate, fantasy-inspired practice. Contrary to the search
to make black and white photographs closer to the real by colouring,
Salmon’s art shows how the real can take on the colours of daydream
and illusion.
In Blue Grey, a project realised in Norway, a girl returns, sometimes
with another girl, sometimes with two. In Blue Grey (Sula) a girl lies out
on a plank, her reclining figure imaging sleep or death. She is like a child
who has fallen. Two girls watch over her, one crouching, one standing.
This is a serial image of a single girl in three poses, the figures above the
girl prone make it seem as if she is attended by spirit selves. This is an
experience between living and dying, one of splitting or levitation. These
other selves seem to creep around her. The jerseys they wear are coloured
a pale acqua blue. A girl in other images is in the same garment of baby
blue. These are the pale blues of childhood, of the blue hour of the
morning before sunrise, blue the first colour seen on the retina. A girl in
a pale blue jersey waits alone by a picket fence. In another she is joined
by herself, as if they are friends waiting and talking. In Violet (Rooftop)
9
the girls are now in pale blue dressing gowns, on a roof, by a chimney
stack, one lying, one kneeling. They are like lost children, ghosts living
a hidden life in this urban space. Blue Grey stretches the range of feelings
from the desire of Don’t Know How to Tell to a world of friendship,
alliance, dreamy imaginary games.
This register is found again in Moon Bathing holding her most
compelling works to date, a moving image work and a series of handcoloured
photographs developed during a residence at Can Serrat in Mont
Serrat, Spain. In her artist’s statement Salmon references works of female
madness, doubling, vicariousness, and longing, Daphne du Maurier’s
Rebecca, Jean Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea, with its reimagining of the first
wife in Jane Eyre as Creole heiress and its postcolonial critique. Moon
Bathing follows in this line of female dispossession, between sensuality and
grief. As if it creates a spell, it has nine long-exposure photographs, and
in each there are three images of Salmon, some fully realised, others more
vestigial and phantom, as if only her aura or spirit remains. The coherence
of the series and its visual repetitions, differing poses and gestures, look
out to the images of women’s bodies taken by Charcot at the Salpêtrière
hospital in Paris as he theorised hysteria (worked on so distinctively by
Georges Didi-Huberman). But Salmon’s young women are not incarcerated
and controlled, but alone with themselves in a derelict landscape, lying
exposed at dusk under the light of the moon. They court the surreal light,
lying out perversely, as day moves into night. They are bathed by the moon,
ravished, tranquil, ecstatic.
A girl lies out lounging in the first light of the moon, asleep, enclosed
in ‘a sublunary world’ (to borrow words of Jean-Luc Nancy). The fall
of her head, her wrapped demeanour, suggest abandonment. She is
10
a Pre-Raphaelite girl with dark hair, pallor, dreaminess. Ghostly selves
are beside her, shadowy, indistinct, reaching toward her. The erotic and
childhood others, doubles, in the earlier series, are here almost monster
selves in their formlessness. In one image the girl is missing, her reclining
bed empty, while the others lie back, more fully formed, as if they’ve
absorbed her. Reappearing she is caught in the twists and turns of disturbed
sleep. They wait and watch beside her. In other images she is in repose, the
girls beside her more restful, brooding, stretching out a hand towards her.
The images have the unreal idleness of the end of a long summer day, girls
stilled by the heat now leaving. The hand-colouring brings warm rose to
the seats where the girls lie, flecks of yellow, flowers, to the grasses, and a
silver light to their skin. The reclining images hold all the ambivalence and
strangeness of lying out prone: eroticism, dreaminess, idleness, morbidity.
The images are soothing and disturbing, conjuring hidden rituals, a strange
amphibious world, far from the confines of the madhouse and the strict
male gaze.
Salmon’s newest project is Hunting Razorbills (2020), a series of
multiple exposure hand-painted photographs, black and white
photographs, and a moving image work. Here Salmon works in the
Highlands of Scotland where she is from (she has described her work as
‘site-responsive’). Wild populations of razorbills live in the subarctic waters
of the Atlantic Ocean. The razorbill is the closest living relative of the
extinct great auk. Its distinctive black beak and shape look out to that other
extinct bird the Dodo, the bird encountered by Alice in her adventures in
Wonderland. The razorbill is missing in Salmon’s pictures, only imagined.
It recalls extinct and storybook birds, the dead canary in the Greuze
painting, and even the white feathers that Ana Mendieta sticks to her naked
11
body in Blood and Feathers. In Hunting Razorbills Salmon pursues fluid
naiad images, as did Mendieta, and her images recall the basking in the
waves and on the shore in Deren’s At Land (1944).
In one image, a woman is in cold flowing water, colour drained out
of the picture, her limbs long, her hand at her throat. She is absorbed,
in shock, in this flow, with selves, or others, beside her, reaching to her,
watching her. In another image, this one softly coloured, the folds of
the drapery and clinging hair, the weed on cold limbs, draw a picture of
coiling in the water. In another, the woman is rescued, hands reaching
her, her face in layers of liquid shade, as if this is a memory, an image just
surfacing or covered over. The images of Hunting Razorbills are wilder,
more mercurial and death-driven, than the pictures in the earlier series.
They claim a space for imagining, for survival of a species, of an
unspoilt landscape.
Salmon’s photographs draw on the awareness, after Barthes’s Camera
Lucida, of photography as a medium that passes through death, holding
a moment that existed, was present, and is now irrevocably past.
Photography allows that cherishing of a self, an adored other, a species,
a world, that no longer exists. For Salmon photography is a medium
which allows the conjuring of spirits, of imagined girls, the emotions
they channel part of a wish to feel and be otherwise, with new alliances,
a new sensitivity.
Salmon’s images, and the unreal worlds they conjure, seem if anything
the more ethereal, tantalising, seen at a remove, in repose, at home.
Her young women, their serial images, continue to exist on their own,
serene, in their own time and space.
12
References
1. Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida: Reflections
on Photography, trans. Richard Howard
(London: Cape, 1982)
2. Georges Didi-Huberman, Invention of Hysteria,
trans. Alisa Hartz (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2008)
3. Jean-Luc Nancy, The Fall of Sleep, trans. Charlotte
Mandell (New York: Fordham University Press, 2009).
4. Nicole Hudgins, The Gender of Photography:
How Masculine and Feminine Values Shaped
the History of Nineteenth-Century Photography
(London: Bloomsbury, 2020)
5.WIA Artist Q&A, Kadie Salmon,
http://wearewia.com/wia-artist-qa-kadie-salmon/
6. Emma Wilson, The Reclining Nude:
Agnès Varda, Catherine Breillat and Nan Goldin
(Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2019)
13
Blue
Grey
Bluish–grey
Through my eyelids
my eyelashes
my eye mask
and the thin starched sheet desperately
wrapped around my head
seeps the source of another sleepless night
Up and down this cool light skips;
gleefully mocking in its persistence
No chatter
no car
no birdsong
and no battery
distinguishes this hazy hour
Blue
Clear blue
I turn over
Don’t Know How to Tell (Finland)
2014
Long exposure photograph
Gliclee print
97 x 130 cm
Don’t Know How to Tell (Scotland)
2014
Long exposure photograph
Gliclee print
97 x 130 cm
Don’t Know How to Tell (Barcelona)
2014
Long exposure photograph
Gliclee print
97 x 130 cm
left:
Don’t Know How to Tell (Record Room)
2014
Long exposure photograph, C-Type print
76 x 102 cm
(Edition of 10+2AP)
above:
Don’t Know How to Tell (Boat House)
2014
Gliclee print, MDF
91 x 61 x 40 cm
Pale Yellow (Beer)
2015
Mixed media sculpture:
giclee print, c-type print,
wood, emulsion
110 x 45 x 45 cm
Pale Yellow (Columns)
2015
Mixed media sculpture:
giclee print, c-type print, wood
160 x 140 x 40 cm
Violet (Rooftop)
2016
Long exposure hand painted black
and white photograph, oils
left:
Pale Yellow (Seated)
2015
Hand painted black and
white photograph, oils
130 x 101cm
above:
Pale Yellow (Chair)
2015
Black and white photograph,
130 x 101cm
Pale Yellow (Standing)
2015
Hand painted black and white
photograph, oils
160 x 120 cm
Blue Grey (Mountains I)
2016
Hand painted black and white
photograph, oils
18.5 x 25.5cm
Blue Grey (Lighthouse I,II,III)
2016
Mixed media sculptures
Blue Grey (Lighthouse III)
2016
Mixed media sculpture: Hand
coloured giclee print, C-type print,
wood, coloured pencil
173 x 132 x 60 cm
Blue Grey (Lighthouse Figures)
2017
Multiple exposure black
and white giclee print
45 x 22 cm
Blue Grey (Sula)
2016
Multiple exposure hand painted
black and white photograph, oils
125.5 x 133cm
Blue Grey (Dusk)
2016
Long exposure black and white
photograph
23 x 19cm
Edition of 10 ( + 2 AP)
Blue Grey (Church I & II)
2016
Multiple exposure hand
painted black and white
photograph, oils
117 x 125cm
Blue Grey (Landscape)
2017
Mulitple exposure hand painted
black and white photograph, oils
112 x 122cm
Hunting Razorbills (close up)
2019
Multiple exposure black
and white photograph
40 x 40 cm
Hunting Razorbills (close up)
2019
Multiple exposure black
and white photograph
40 x 40 cm
Hunting Razorbills (close up)
2020
Mulitple exposure hand painted
black and white photograph, oils
40 x 40 cm
Moon Bathing
2018
Hand painted black and white
photograph oils
30x30cm
Maria Walsh
Kadie Salmon’s
Moon Bathing
Performative Self-othering
in a Lunar Landscape
62
In a half dream-state, she twisted and turned. She arched and turned
again; her movements posed from a deckchair bathed in twilight
beneath the magic mountain of Montserrat.
As the film’s stills flit past, she appears to be in two or three places
simultaneously, her body replicated as shadowy others communing
between the three deckchairs that compose the mise-en-scène.
What is unfolding here? What is being delineated?
In the series of photographic stills that comprise Kadie Salmon’s short film
Moon Bathing, the artist’s poses initially seem to be self-contained gestures.
However, akin to the nebulous shapes that morph and mutate at dusk,
these stilled gestures are full of another kind of motion. Made from long
exposure durations in the course of which Salmon performs a series of
movements, her replicated figures belie surface legibility, their overlapping
contours delineating her poses as continuous, rather than discontinuous,
actions in time. What is lost to the eye in the snap of the shutter reappears
to the sensibility by means of Salmon’s post-production artistry on the
original photographic negatives. Painstakingly hand-painting and rescanning
them, she tenderizes the cinematic image so that past gestures
are not only excavated, but new configurations are created, in which
the self becomes edged with its other selves, the others that make it up.
Salmon refers to these others as ‘lovers, family, friends’, the process of
hand-painting lending another kind of visibility, a palimpsestic one, to the
‘acts of intimacy’ performed between them. 1 A visionary, interior sense
of visibility rather than the exterior gaze of ‘un visuel’, as Jean-Martin
Charcot, the nineteenth century French neurologist famous for his work
on hysteria, referred to himself. 2 63
Hysteria has long been a metaphor for artistic fantasy, its production
of bodily contortions and gestures simulating the possession of the self
by spirits or others. Hence the ancient theory of the wandering womb
whose animalistic travelling through the female body was thought to be
the cause of a bodily and psychic excess deemed irrational by patriarchal
culture. Moving away from this mythology, Charcot, the scientist, used
photography to classify the poses of female ‘hysterics’. He also used
drawing to supplement the static capture that gives lie to the body in
motion. Such a diagnostic gaze looks at the pose from the outside, cutting
it off from its labile interiority. While not referring to this history directly,
Salmon’s performative poses and her methods of reanimating stasis
nonetheless recall it to mind, but here, the one who looks and captures
is one and the same, and the one who looks does so from within the
voluptuous interiority of a generative female body.
Feminist philosophers such as Luce Irigaray proffer the idea that if this
generative body could be symbolized, it might reorient the phallocentric
logic of self and other by which the other is considered an inferior or
feared object. The generative female body implies a different kind of self/
other relation in which they are always in intimate correspondence with
one another, being mutually constitutive rather than oppositional entities.
It is from this place of interior intimacy that Irigaray calls ‘self-affection’
that Woman might go out to meet the other of herself. However, according
to Irigaray, the voice of self-affection, neither active nor passive, but
in-between, has been colonised by a masculinist imaginary which categorises
Woman as a passive object or a revolting hysteric. By contrast, to other
herself on her own terms would be to enact a self-affection in which
‘[s]ensation would have neither an object nor a moment but it would take
64
place only in the intervals between, through difference, succession’. 3
Rather than the arrest of the pose which cuts duration, in the
performative mode of self-affection sensation transitions between
phrases and states of desire touched by the imaginary others that
co-constitute a self.
This movement undoes the false hierarchy between the fluidity
of duration and the stilled capture of the photographic image.
In her use of photography, paint and digital film, I read Salmon’s
palimpsestic replications of herself as an intermedial space of
self-affection akin to that described by Irigaray as ‘the pleasure
of endless exchange with the other in a (self-) touching that no
privileged identification arrests by re-absorption. Neither one nor
the other being taken as a term, nor the supplement of their passing
one into the other’. 4 Salmon’s recitation of an excerpt from Klara
du Plessis’s poem ‘Someone other than else’ towards the latter part
of Moon Bathing underscores this generative sensory embodying.
…
my body drops like a wave,
breasts trickling off my chest, thighs fighting
then collapsing, spreading, expanding
and thinning out, limpid and clear,
before retracting, climbing into themselves,
refining their pores
a pool of water collecting itself solemnly
to return to solidity.
…
67
In Moon Bathing, imaginary others are not simply human, but
elemental. As well as registering the traces of her performative microactions,
the camera also captures the rustling of the surrounding foliage
whose leaves caressed the air. In Romantic literature, lush wild landscapes
or atmospheres are often falsely projected as a cause of female malady
and madness. Touched by the magical lunar lit landscape of Montserrat,
she doesn’t lose her mind. Unlike the rewriting of the deranged Romantic
heroine of Emily Bronte’s Jane Eyre in Rebecca (Daphne du Maurier, 1958)
and Wide Sargasso Sea (Jean Rhys, 1966), both authors inspirations
for Salmon, the allure of the wild is less a threat than a fluid caress that
blurs boundaries between self and other while generating difference
in conjunction with, rather than in opposition to, the sensible world.
The emergence of this difference is resolutely material and premised on
the technical.
Salmon’s application of colour to her photographs relates to its use in
Victorian photography in which tinting black and white negatives returned
the illusion of life to the inanimate, giving its subjects a delicate but sickly
blush. Colour was also added to early black and white film, the first being
dance films, e.g. Annabelle Serpentine Dance (1895) from Edison Studios,
in which vibrant colours were added to the dancer’s billowing costume.
One also thinks of the infamous footage of Loie Fuller’s serpentine
dances by the Lumière brothers, their work also being a reference for
Salmon. While these experiments were partly motivated by a desire for
realism, colour was primarily added for its sensuous and metaphorical
effects and its incitement to fantasy. 5 In early film, the vivid hand-painted
colours seemed to emanate from the dancer’s sensate interiority, their fiery
flames prosthetically extending her body into voluptuous, not ‘hysterical’
68
morphologies beyond anatomy. While Salmon’s colourations are more
like the tinge of a blush than an electric strike, their dissipation of contour
has a sublimity of its own. As her shadowy replicated figures gaze upon
or touch one another, their gestures, always on the verge of coming into
being or disappearing into the dusk, incarnate ‘acts of intimacy’ that keep
their secrets even as they are being revealed.
This sublimity incorporates rather than transcends labour. In contrast
to the tumultuous colourations of the dancing women in early film, the
labour of hand-painting them was done by women in almost Fordist
assembly line workshops. Women could be paid less than men and so
were cheap labour for what was, at the time, a very expensive process.
This labour also capitalises on the association between women and the
decorative, the meticulousness of hand-painting being considered an
extension of women’s crafts such as painting glass or china. 6 Women’s
ornamental arts also include the acts of concealment involved in
the application of make-up, a surface decoration of one’s face and/
or body that expresses fantasy others as well as being hard work. In
Moon Bathing, Salmon has re-appropriated the labour and delicacy
of handicraft and surface decoration to express a self-affection that
reanimates the static pose, her labile ‘dancing’ body becoming a threshold
between self and/as other, inside and outside, gesture and voice.
The image track ends, while Salmon’s recitation of du Plessis’ poem
continues over the darkness of a blank screen. Her words speak of the
barely discernible difference between ‘inundate’ and ‘undulate’, the
resonant syllables reverberating like an echo of the image that continues
to unfold in the intervallic space of self-affection continually being
delineated here.
69
References
1. Kadie Salmon, Moon Bathing notes, June 2020.
2. Debora L. Silverman, Art Nouveau in
Fin-de-siècle France: Politics, Psychology,
and Style, Berkeley, Los Angeles, Oxford:
University of California Press, 1992, p.94.
3. Luce Irigaray, An Ethics of Sexual Difference,
[1984], trans. Carolyn Burke and Gillian C. Gill,
London: The Athlone Press. 1993, p.158.
4. Irigaray in Whitford, M. (ed) (1991),
The Irigaray Reader, Massachusetts and Oxford:
Blackwell Publishers, pp.1-60.
5. For more on this point, see Tom Gunning,
‘Colourful Metaphors: The Attraction of Colour
in Early Silent Cinema’, Fotogenia (1994)
: 55–249. Also see Wendy Haslem, From Méliès
to New Media: Spectral Projections, Bristol, UK;
Chicago, USA: Intellect Ltd., 2019.
6. See Amanda Scherker, ‘The Forgotten Women
Who Hand-Painted the First Color Films’,
https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorialforgotten-women-hand-painted-first-color-films
[Accessed 8 June 2020].
71
To view the
Moon Bathing film
vimeo.com/340661714
Password: MoonBathing
Kadie Salmon
Born Scotland, 1986
Lives and works in London
84
Artist Residencies
2021
2019–20
2018
2016–17
2016
2015
2014
2013
Artexte, Montreal, Canada
London Creative Network, Space Studios
Artist in Residence, Can Serrat, Barcelona
Artist in Residence, The Florence Trust, London
LKV Residency Programme, Trondheim, Norway
Edinburgh Sculpture Micro Residency Programme, Edinburgh
Artist studio exchange, Berlin
Arteles Creative Centre Artist Residency Programme, Finland
Awards/Funding
2020
2020
2020
2019
2019
2019
2019
2018
2018
2018
2016
2016
2015
2015 & 2013
2007–09
2008 & 2006
2007
2007
Freelands Foundation Emergency Grant
Artexte Research Centre
A_N Artist Bursaries
Arts Council England DYCP Grant
London Creative Network, Space Studios
Public Choice Awards, Photofusion, London
Shortlisted, Metro X Satori Award
Ministry of Culture Czech Republic
European Cultural Fund-Step Beyond Travel Grant
Academy of Performing Arts, Prague
The Henry Moore Foundation
The Eaton Fund
Edinburgh Sculpture Workshop Artist Funding
The Hope Scott Trust Funding
Andrew Grant Scholarship Award
The Helen A. Rose Bequest
Andrew Doolan Award for Sculpture
The Tempest Photography Graduation Prize
85
Selected and Forthcoming Exhibitions
2021
2021
2020
2020
2019
2019
2018–19
2018
2018
2017
2017
2017
2017
2016
2016
2016
2016
2016
2016
2016
2016
2016
2015
2015
2015
2014
2014
Skin and Meat Sky II, Artexte, Montreal
Skin and Meat Sky, Tempsspace, Montreal
Kadie Salmon, New Art Projects, London
Kadie Salmon, SPRING/BREAK Art Show, New Art Projects, New York
Settle Doon, Place and Platform, Edinburgh
Landscapes in the Mind, New Art Projects, SPRING/BREAK, New York
Salon/18, Photofusion, London
Memory Palace, Captain Lightfoot, Gallery Amu, Prague
Odd Space, Hewing Wittare, London
Living For Art, Sibyl Colefax & John Fowler, London
Kadie Salmon, New Art Projects, London
The Florence Trust Summer Show, The Florence Trust, London
The Florence Trust Winter Open, The Florence Trust, London
Strange Loop, Captain Lightfoot, Babel Gallery, Trondheim, Norway
Place and Platform, Edinburgh Arts Festival, Edinburgh
Here’s To Us, Gallery Gro, Finland
MONO6 (Touring) The Courtyard, London
MONO6 (Touring) Rijskademie, Amsterdam
MONO6 (Touring) Blockbuster Exhibitions, Berlin
MONO6 (Touring) Gottwood Arts Festival, Wales
Strange Loop, Captain Lightfoot EX14, Dresden, Germany
As Document, Summerhall, Edinburgh
The Usher, Captain Lightfoot, Galleri Gro, Finland
Concrete Fictions, New Art Projects, London
Flat Land, Edinburgh Sculpture Workshop, Edinburgh
Captain Lightfoot Presents...The Glasshouse, Edinburgh
Everything Stuck to Him, Captain Lightfoot, The Vaults, Edinburgh
86
2014
2013
2013
2013
2013
Don't Know How to Tell, New Art Projects, London
Something Old, Something New...., Fred[London] Ltd, London
Viewing Room, Fred[London] Ltd, London
Arteles Residency Exhibition, Haukijarvi, Finland
No Heroics, Please, Captain Lightfoot,
The Crypt Gallery, London
Education
2007–09
2003–07
MFA Sculpture, Edinburgh College of Art, Edinburgh
BA (Hons) Sculpture (1), Edinburgh College of Art, Edinburgh
Web Links
kadiesalmon.co.uk
newartprojects.com/artists/kadie-salmon
captainlightfoot.co.uk
wearewia.com/wia-artist-qa-kadie-salmon
87
This publication is funded
by New Art Projects
newartprojects.com
New Art Projects
Fred Mann
Tim Hutchinson
6D Sheep Lane
London E8 4QS
info@newartprojects.com
+44 (0)20 7249 4032
Designed by
CHK Design
chkdesign.com
All works by Kadie Salmon
and remain her copyright
Additional installation photography
on pages 36–37, 38–39, 44–45 & 50
by Yoi Kawakubo
yoikawakubo.com
Kadie Salmon and New Art Projects
would like to thank CHK Design and
Emma Wilson and Maria Walsh for
their brilliant essay contributions
[ISBN 978-1-5272-1123-0]