Amy Coningsby

Artist Catalogue

Virtual Exhibition

UnEarth Me

I slept through the day, letting my faith and passion rest along my pillow. Alone, life seemed to be buried somewhere outside.

To keep warm, to enliven the eggy womb, I must weave a tapestry - a visual knotting of archives and aesthetics where humans meet, where items and stories tangle into spirits and soup napkins. Outside I go; I explore the rich earthiness of this rain-drenched world, let the fabric soak itself, let my chin drip with the broth, and I dig my palms into its soil surface where rust condensates and I perspire - a dance of unearthing those seeding passions. The body and earth breathe an exhale of creation - air cells of how we make and capture.

This exploration spans across varying gestures and photographs. An embrace of expression emerges as materials, approaches, time frames, and abilities graze against each other, unveiling links both clear and mysterious. Through aged and found materials, I intervene, yet let them be, allowing their stories to unfold and enrich the soil. We are to collapse the linear division; to humanize the excavating machine of knowing and history; to find the weird and sweet activities and skills humans have created an impulse as natural as a dog is to bark.

Initiated through an exploration of archives, aesthetics, and theoretical research, this project lays out this material story of human connection, sincerity, and practice. It is the amateur spirit of love, drawing wisdom and assistance from others’ graceful twirls and turns. For in connection with communities and individuals, time unfurls like a coil of waltzing stories. Articulation becomes a scattered speech, a chorus of voices - mine choiring with others, creating a symphony of expression, as a creation that resists systems of perfection and control. It is a rowing against the modern mechanization of the human spirit; it is a celebration of passion’s progression; it is a looking upon the prosthetic technics of human technology and impulse.

I seek to reflect upon these imprints of sentiment across time, to create my own stamps of such, and to caramelise them into photobooks, albums, and folios of display.

“At times some birds, a horse, have saved the ruins of an amphitheatre.”

Jorge Luis Borges