S. ASTRID BIN

Crescendo

astrid — Mon, 23 Jul 2012 11:50:55 +0000

2012

We live in such a material-rich time, where wonders of technology and mass production make up so many of the things we touch, see and use every day. I’ve long been fascinated with the stuff that surrounds us, and make sculpture exclusively out of these taken-for-granted materials.

These are made out of curling ribbon, wound into three 500m spools.

One Thousand Means of Escape – Reboot

astrid — Sat, 07 Jul 2012 16:12:33 +0000

2011

I have been extremely fortunate to be invited to install One Thousand Means of Escape in various locations. Each project has its own challenges and personality, and the piece is re-engineered each time to hang as part of the existing architecture.

Look

astrid — Sat, 07 Jul 2012 15:28:18 +0000

2011

At OPEN Gallery, Berlin.

On the floor there is a box, and the wall invites the audience to look inside. When the viewer gets on the floor to peer in, they find the box is empty.

There is a camera hidden in the box, and an image of the viewer’s curious face is transmitted to another location in the gallery.

Ring

astrid — Sat, 07 Jul 2012 14:54:04 +0000

2012

At Catalyst Arts, Belfast

In exploring Belfast I noticed that every movement in the urban environment is negotiated by a fence. Fences surround empty lots, abandoned buildings, gardens, construction sites, housing estates, public buildings. I photographed every fence I saw and on a series of exploratory walks around the perimeter of the city centre with a group of other artists.

100 of these photographs were arranged in two circle formations, echoing both the surrounding nature of fences, and the city’s perimeter where the fences were found.

In My Mind And In Your Mind Too

astrid — Sat, 07 Jul 2012 14:40:58 +0000

2012

In our increasingly homogenous culture, media is broadcast and distributed on a massive scale. This means that we have a profound shared cultural history.

These videos allow the viewer to experience these well-known songs from memory.

(Shot in glorious HD. Made smaller for the internet.)

27

astrid — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 02:17:44 +0000

London is drifting into summer after a too-long and too-dark winter. I thought by now my longing would be over but not quite, not yet, every time I think I’ve gotten to the bottom of it there’s one more level of want. My veins and arteries are exposed, laid out in beautiful patterns on the pavement and spilling into the gutter, you idly step over them while doing something else, the way you subconsciously dodge puddles of vomit on a shiny Friday night street. I am bleeding, I am bleeding, I am bleeding because you never bled for me. A yellow moth settled on my eyes the morning before and whispered its warning that I chose to ignore, I should really be more careful, I should take my cues from buzzing insect symphonies instead of my own misguided misaligned and so often stupid heart. It’s only ever gotten me into trouble and seems to want to march to its own broken watery death.

26

astrid — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 02:17:03 +0000

It is already summer. I had hoped for mornings spent sweating into your arms and onto your chest but instead I bleed into my brain with all the things left undone and unsaid, there was never enough time because I never envisioned the leaving coming so soon. Or maybe I stopped waiting. Or maybe I have better things to do. Or maybe you never liked me anyway. Maybe you were slow. Maybe I was impetuous. Maybe your arms never got around me. Maybe I am a master of escape. Maybe I always knew better. Maybe I don’t have a clue. I can philosophise in a million directions, I can map the expanse of your shoulders in the grey morning light, we can fill the space between us with something thick and sweet and watch each other drown, I can spend the last stretch of my expiring youth fancying that I wasn’t wrong and that you felt it too, I can slide headlong into winter and away from all this but I don’t forget. I might forgive but I don’t forget.

25

astrid — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 02:16:22 +0000

This is what relationships do to you – they melt away all your defenses but after it’s over you don’t get them back so you’re just raw and broken and bloody, vulnerable with no hope of defending yourself, and all … Continue reading →

24

astrid — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 02:16:01 +0000

washed over me. I felt something fall away, something evaporate off my skin, dissipating into the dark cold air, left behind. Who was right, who was wrong, who punched through and who withdrew don’t matter anymore. The show is over, the circus has moved on. In its place, something else will grow. It’s me. It isn’t me. It’s you. It isn’t you.

It’s you.

23

astrid — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 02:15:38 +0000

He’s always very snappily dressed, which I always appreciate and is one of the pluses about dating designers (the egomania, childish self-centeredness, maudlin tendencies and garden-variety insanity being the drawbacks, but hey, you gotta take the crunchy with the smooth).