Elena Papanikolakis - Then, closer

Then, closer, Installation view, ReadingRoom, Naarm/Melbourne

Then, closer, Installation view. ReadingRoom Melbourne. All photographs by Andrew Curtis

Then, closer, Installation view, ReadingRoom, Naarm/Melbourne

Elena Papanikolakis, Almost unknown. 2019. Acrylic and oil on stretched paper, 41 × 36 cm

Elena Papanikolakis, Old ways, 2019. Acrylic and oil on stretched paper, 41 × 36 cm

Elena Papanikolakis, Shapes and character, 2019. Acrylic and oil on stretched paper, 41 × 36 cm

Elena Papanikolakis, Potential (detail), 2018. Acrylic on paper, framed, nine parts, dimensions variable

Then, closer
ReadingRoom, Melbourne
Sep-Oct 2019

slake

a Byzantine lattice is

daring a honeycomb

over the street below.

in its doorway sits

a reservoir faint with turbulence, stained

beneath the surface with oxide.

the house turns

inwards, towards

its interior made of salt.

and what of its dimensions?

a labyrinth spins

in a pale mineral cup.

time centrifuge, timeplasma.

on the hill

a dome turns verdigris

while sitting on four

eyelids slaked with lime.

the adult lamb being led by

cries into these cataracts of sound, begging

the architecture for more than a chorus.

over brushed metal

food passes between hands

as swiftly as laughter can turn

on the pivot of a dare

before the leap

before a fall, to

a conclusion

or looser soils.

the shepherd

just turned fourteen

straddles his fresh sacrifice.

driving an iron down the foreleg, he

cleaves flesh from fleece, which

he then inflates like a balloon.

a gentle flossrip as layers

come apart, and five cuts

set the fleece free.

finally

drawn off

and draped, the

garment has no senses.

the soil darkens

beneath his labour, to

witness what grows.

this leaf, this

branch, this

plant is a migrant also.

this stem, this

curlicued ear

houses history, and

is eaten

by those who live

in history’s houses.

the plateau

of another faith

extends its dry hem

to a Frey.

and the desert turns away

from its beloved

showing the length of its spine

enough to recall them back again

and dare over, again.

—Tarik Ahlip

Tarik Ahlip is an artist with a background in Architecture. His practice is mainly sculptural, informed by an interest in language and poetry.

Documentation: Andrew Curtis