vibrations that matter '

Leaky language, matter-y interplays and a porous sense of place & self vibrate through India Boxall’s practice. Oozey imagery becomes the stakes through which Corrie Thomson and India Boxall’s conversation is fed.

Artist: India Boxall

Editor: Corrie Thomson

What first made the constellations of India Boxall’s work glisten in my eyes, was an automatic instinct that every disparate element was bursting at the seams, unable to be contained within neat parameters of my phone screen. Words wriggle out from imagery like tendrils. Homemade dye pools in the ripples of fabric. Meticulously produced fineliner drawings are loaded with familiar yet unfamiliar critters. There’s so much to see, so much to say and so many avenues to get lost in.

IB: An aspect that anchors my thinking is uncovering or illuminating the tangles between selfhood and placehood, and how an active awareness of the knots that bind the two propose a critical resonance that allows for a psychogeographic contemplation of our concurrent Anthropocene, (or Chthulucene as Donna Haraway gestures us to call it). This deeper response to self/place tangles requires me to think about selfhood as not tied to the ego or identity, but a sprawling mass that seeps into every-thing through encounters with humans and more than humans. 

Copy of 20. collection of drying flowers, inks and artworks at home.jpg
Copy of 25. Folds, Bleeds, Fuel (ongoing).jpg

(Inter)play with materials and matter of the most immediate surroundings seems fundamentally rooted in this notion of a porous sense of place and self. Boxall makes dyes and inks from locally foraged and felled plant matter. The squelchy, juicy routines followed while making homemade ink seem ritualistic. I’m reminded of this in one of Boxall’s poems from FUEL. Moments from an upbringing brimming with matter-y encounters flicker between Boxall’s words:

Spending time

or time spent

in the cave of childhood

getting to know the planet

by drawing apart flower heads

with a juvenile thumb

 

a whole and opaque memory

 

Peeled back whorls 

secreting perfumed sebum, 

a floral envelope 

leaving a pastel frame

a-round an edge of nailed.

 

Coils of all things spent.

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