DAVID ITS QUITE MEAN AND EMOTIONAL FRACTIONAL IMAGE OF UR WORK AND SNIPPETS OF FICTIONS AND KNOWLEDGES

Upturned forearms consumed by a cloth of layers.

Soft friend, violent legend, who harnessed the energy of a thousand harsh dry coughs. Liminal emissions, or spore bearing potentialities, tectonic vapours, triggered by a thorough bleach cleanse. This matter rapture moves as glass does, wilting in the frame, exquisite and coy, much like the top breaths that scupper the roof of your mouth in a panic attack.

Shards hit your ruddy cheek when you’re choppin’ wood, sweating out alcohol.

    - Rosemary Kirton for her friend David Hanes

David Hanes - Aware

We hope there is a ghost in the gallery, in the internet, in the shell. That it haunts and stalks, possessing otherwise utilitarian subjects, curdling their aura.  In its wake, pixels diverge, then reconvene, according to their own uncanny murmuration. Out of sync, white space falters; any certainty is salvaged and embedded into the warp and weft of polyester threads. Image and material call one another into question, and what was once the domain of photographic subject undergoes an entropic transformation.

David Hanes’ Aware works locate themselves between digital and cloth matrices, a tension which incorporates the web-based platforms and gallery walls they adorn. The dye-sublimation prints in question, are just a fraction of an entire body of works, all of which are seeded from online found-photography that documents artworks. Hanes’ chancy acts of digital manipulation reincarnate images, only for them to be eulogized through the translucence of polyester. And yet, the way the fabric clings to its handcrafted stretchers, hints at some semblance of life.

With Aware, Hanes negotiates issues of digital dualism and the formalism of exhibiting, itself; where calling a work into being, may with the same sword, resign it to purgatory. These processes prompt a necessary grief; identifying and empathizing with this loss is difficult because it holds no sole resting place, no single venerated memorial dents the horizon. Hanes is sincere in his search for closure but is open to the idea that it may not be possible.