My Sister Life is the naming of her creative processes and work as an artist - Sarah King's work is born out of necessity. There is about making connections, search for the overlooked in her practice, through the sensitivity of listening for silence and realising the impossible absence of silence she records through drawing, stitch and audio the repeated acts of daily life, the seemingly small events, rituals and rhythms which mark the passage of time.
Her latest body of work was aided by two residencies at the Jamieson Library, Hypatia Trust in Cornwall between 2011 and 2012. The work has also developed through a response to exterior environmental sounds - listening without looking. Through drawing, scoring, stitching, recording and listening she has responded to exterior sounds - the weather - creating a series of repeated drawings, mapping sounds and creating trace. Archivist of her everyday life, Sarah King records thoughts through the marking off of time, She uses marks for mapping, and she scores trace through marking repeated sound.
The reintroduction of thread into the work has been an important step forward, and resonates with the enquiry into silence, and whether or not that is visible in the work.
King says: “The drawings become extensions of the thoughts and conversations I am having with myself. My exploration is fuelled by considering whether I can communicate silence, or rather an absence of silence with the marks in stitch. The reintroduction of thread back into the work is my attempt to leave a trace of myself and my experience of silence.
These new works are the continuation of a deep level of enquiry into the presence of silence generating ideas and research conversations which readdress my developing methodologies and working processes.” They are deeply concerned of time and forgetfulness, where the fleeting evanescence of whiteness can be a reflection of the sublime.
The works also have opened into another direction: where every separation is a link, as much between the sound of rain and breath and the silence afterwards, where the works on paper evoke light and water, to encapsulate and somehow map moments of being.
She took my hand and turned it over, she was not interested in reading my palm, instead she traced its outline with her fingertip. She told me that if you wanted to map the line of a human hand you could not do so. The line of a hand is an endless line. She told me that a hand was no different when it was read, to the branches of trees, or their hidden roots. She told me I shared my fate with the clouds and the coastlines. That every tributary has its own tributaries, that every source has its own sources, that my hand was just another coastline with no end of inlets, peninsulas, archipelagos. She told me that the line of a human hand went on forever. ‘But what does it mean?’ I asked. ‘Love is stronger than fear’ she said.
– Anthony Sheridan - Love’s Origins