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Love, Suspended - Valentine’s Day has come again

Love, Suspended - Valentine’s Day has come again

LOVE, SUSPENDED 2020 limited edition digital print seriesHappy Valentine’s Day ✨🌱🤗❤️When I was invited to create work for the Eclectica Contemporary ‘Margins’ womxn’s group show in 2020, my process included digital colour and texture studies (seen below) before I created the oil paintings which were included in the show. “Within the Skin 1” 2020. Limited edition print on Textured silk paper.  The prints in the Love Suspended (love is in the air) were born from the concept of memories of emotions within the body. How nostalgia is both separate and inherent- how it is suspended between the physical and non...

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Writing - a birthday poem for Cayden

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Writing - a birthday poem for Cayden

A poem for my eldest son, Cayden, on his 14th birthday. A dedication to him and the waking up to adulthood and awareness.

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Watch: Interview Eclectica Contemporary with Ofentse Seshabela

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Watch: Interview Eclectica Contemporary with Ofentse Seshabela

A short interview by Eclectica Contemporary gallery (Cape Town, South Africa) with Ofentse Seshabela in the Artist conversation podcast available on Instagram.

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“Trusting” - 17.10.2020 - Writing

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“Trusting” - 17.10.2020 - Writing

Trust.I'm trusting the yearning to be in this skin.I'm trusting the call to be present in the body.This body is a gift to be unwrappedA body of experiencesA body of sensationsA body of memoriesOf painOf angerOf beauty Of beyond More than a body.More than the story about the body.Maybe I'm just the keeperOf this scared space.The observer within this holy place.A conduit for me to begin again.So-Maybe it isn't just a body. Maybe it's a wayMaybe it's a bridge to the other side.Even if it is not.Even if there was no other side.I want to feel safe in the skin...

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“I cannot Be” 2020 Poem by Yvette Hess

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“I cannot Be” 2020 Poem by Yvette Hess

“Mimicking Me” 2020. I like the way the belt, coincides with the edge of the grass line... mirroring the edge, that halfway mark, the constriction at my waist. I split there, the top in pose, trying to tame the wild hair. The bottom finding footing , for what? For grounding?For purpose?Who knows.I lost. I lose still. I lose myself in the storm that is me. Death is so final, and part of me weeps. But the absent is what really gets me at the knees. Absence never makes my heart grow fonder: It weeps while it seeks-A place to fillGentleness...

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