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What Katie Did

Jo Gorski examines the work of Cambridge based Katie Symes and examines the conflicts present
 

In the amateur world of photography, proud parents reign supreme. Snap-shots of babies walking, talking, sleeping, peeing, or laughing; in cots, cars, bars, and grannies' arms; taken for aunties, uncles, or long lost cousins. People take pictures of their kids to capture slices of time, because they want other people to see how beautiful, advanced, cute, and amusing their baby is.

Katie Symes' pictures of her son are none of the above.

Havelok, Symes' son, was left injured after what she describes as a series of medical blunders. Symes is angry and her video aims to disturb, but in the flesh she is unassuming and quietly-spoken, unwilling to have our conversation recorded, and uninterested in talking about what her art 'means'.  Symes' speech, mannerisms and work are considered and deliberate, despite her assertion that with regard to her work things 'just happen' to her.

 Havelok II has recently been shown at The Cambridge Darkroom and during the Summer Open Studios. The piece is approximately thirty seconds long.  The opening frames are black with both the title, and the dispassionate medical narration which follows in stark white relief.  The triptych of images which form the main piece conveys an immense depth of anger and bitterness which was entirely unapparent during my  conversation with Symes about Havelok.  Symes told me that she wanted the video to be disturbing, there is no doubt that she succeeded.
above:  Havelok I
 

 
 
The first segment of the three is dominated by an enormous hulk of meat, vividly red and white.  The meat rocks as an anonymous butcher attacks it with a bow-saw, his movements are fevered as the saw meets resistance and his free hand grips the top of the joint to steady himself.  It is the incessant monotony of the movement which I found most uncomfortable.  This image is constant throughout the piece.  The second segment of the triptych is occupied by Havelok.  Symes provides three successive images of her son which slowly fade in and out of the black background.  The first shows a close-up of Havelok in his head-brace, the second is a typical baby shot complete with bonnet and blue baby blanket, the third is an entire portrait of Havelok contained in his head-brace.  In all three pictures Havelok is looking down, away from the viewer, we are invited to look as closely as we want.  Symes presents him in a manner which is almost angelic with eyes cast downward, and steel halo fully visible.  Havelok is passive and accepting, his face devoid of emotion.  The final segment begins with the image of a knife being sharpened.  The movement is slow and deliberate, with a rhythm which continues as the camera follows the surgeon's steps around the unseen patient's bed. It becomes impossible to view one image without the influence of the other two. The impact achieved by the juxtaposition of these three images is compounded by the soundtrack.  Symes has the steady sound of the knife being sharpened (abrasive, cold steel on steel) and the slow footsteps of the surgeon, coupled with an ambient two-tone loop of sound struggling vainly to get started.
above:  stills from Havelok II
 

 So, what are we to make of this plethora of attacks on our sensibility.  Symes could be accused of over-stressing her point, losing the impact of the piece as she overwhelms her viewer with a multitude of images and sounds.  I do not think so.  Symes has produced an incredible piece of work, inviting varied interpretations and emotional responses from the viewer. The presentation of the piece limits any sense of overkill. Having watched the piece on a loop, I am still moved by it, indeed I reach a point of saturation where I can no longer watch the sequence as it begins over and over again.  In a month when the issue of shock value is hitting the headlines, with the furore surrounding the Sensation exhibition at the Royal Academy,  Symes has achieved considerably more than initial impact. The overwhelming impression which I retain from the video is the sense of continued confinement.  Each segment of the triptych is entirely self-contained, with its own time-frame, but the sense of confinement and futility is common to all.  The feverish movements of the butcher's blade, the continued lifelessness of Havelok, admits no sign of progression, there is an all-pervading sense of futility.  +
left:  Danny