Alice Peach – The geometry of circumstance won’t betray S the hay ball, it’ll make a cheesecloth bed for soft landing.

Ali­ce Peach

Untit­led› (from ‹Thun­der Turns Milk›), gla­zed cera­mic, 30x10x0,5 cm, 2021

This month I prac­ti­ce remem­be­ring (= for­get­ting): rou­ti­nes and expec­ta­ti­ons that usual­ly ridd­le my days loo­se their sharp­ness to the pace of the coun­try­si­de. The most rele­vant aspects of living can­not be cal­cu­la­ted or quan­ti­fi­ed.

Geo­me­tric hay balls are notes out of key in a land­scape. Tones of gum­my green. I think of pain­ting.
I think of prime num­bers and coun­ting devices. I think of body based enu­me­ra­ti­on systems – stan­dard units, norms, rulers. 

A stack of paper wal­lows in a cor­ner of a cold room.
I, with it, learn the graceful art of han­ging out, bea­ring the chill.
I talk to my new sisters on the roof­top as we sip on cof­fee and rum­mage through our sibling thoughts.
We grow cow tails and horns.

I rea­li­se: hil­ly green land­scapes, corn fields and farms, long cur­vy roads and soli­ta­ry trees are home to my favou­ri­te fee­lings.
In wide open space my mind stret­ches and my anxie­ties eva­po­ra­te. I no lon­ger see the point in pro­du­cing work for the sake of being pro­duc­ti­ve, digni­fi­ed or useful – becau­se art shouldn’t be imi­ta­te labour.

I’m in the mood for laug­hing a lot about not­hing in par­ti­cu­lar.
I run out to meet a group cows tire­less­ly che­wing time away while stro­king and licking each other’s snouts 

Some­ti­mes it looks like the only thing that moves in a field is her tail. 
Lazy is her pose, mas­si­ve is her pre­sence.
I feel so britt­le
-boned and rest­less all the time, she inspi­res me.

‹Thun­der Turns Milk› exhi­bi­ti­on view in Chez Moni­que (Vil­le­kul­la), 2021
‹Cal­ci­um Sticks, Britt­le Bones›; oak wood, cera­mics, hot glue, wool yarn, medi­cal tape; 70x17x0,5 cm, 2021.
‹Thun­der Turns Milk› exhi­bi­ti­on view in Chez Moni­que (Vil­le­kul­la), 2021
‹Piz­zi­ca­mi›; birch wood, metal wire, ela­stic band; 22x3x1,5 cm and 31x3x1,5 cm; 2021
‹Milk and But­ter Mea­su­ring Sticks›, pen­cil dra­wing on ungla­zed cera­mic, dimen­si­on varia­ble, 2021
‹Unit of Ten­der Tips›; fire wood, bee wax, tex­ti­le, nails, clamps, belt, Fromage Blanc con­tai­ners, cera­mic, hot glue; 110x5 cm (x2) appro­xi­m­ate­ly; 2021
Rese­arch mate­ri­al from per­so­nal archi­ve, 2021


In Octo­ber I held back. 
While car­ry­ing on loo­se­ly my rese­arch on systems and orga­nisms, I made pegs when I wan­ted to speak, wro­te about tran­si­tio­ning, mea­su­red objects and cor­ners of the Vil­le­kul­la rooms, coun­ted hay balls on lar­ge fields, ate lar­ge amounts of fromage blanc.

I wai­ted to be struck by coin­ci­dence and hoped for some­thing to stick effort­less­ly:
Like the fri­end­ship and care I found in Mina, Anni­na, Simon, Leo­nie and Noah;
Like the dis­co­very of my big love for cows and ever­ything that sud­den­ly stem­med out of it.