Mother, Maker, Pleasure-taker
Tame Game, Hot Flame
Rigid Quaker, Promise-breaker
Full Fool, Dull Tool
Martina Priehodová is a Slovak multimedia artist who works with various issues in her art such as becoming, intimate ecosystems, personification, identity and her own morality. She approaches these subjects and questions using food and clay as material.
Her old hands swept the flour grinder together, skimming the cream off
the milk jug in the basement and shoveled the last piece of butter from the plate.
She kneaded the dough into a bowl to a faint candlelight.
Out came a round, bloated bread man, fried until it turned pink in color.
The breadman was so self-absorbed that he rolled away, away from her old hands and hungry husband The breadman went through the woods and there encountered many living things He outran them all, triumphantly Because he blindly trusted a cunning fox, he almost lost his head Finally a hedgehog caught him, only to return him home.
The Slovak version of this story indicates that the breadman (in Slovak: pampuch) returned home to delight the elderly bread-makers, his creators Thus ending the story, but undoubtedly the couple ate the breadman.
If you are what you eat, did the bread makers absorb the arrogance of their creation?
By looking at the breadman's transformation, I examine in my insertion into aspects such as; integrity, livelihood, ignorance and the right to exist of bread as well as humans Their interaction is objectified as a overcrowded but confined object, referring to bread that twitches in its fermentation with crispy skin licences and adhesive supports instead of vertebrae in a spine that is not in the right proportions.
Martina Priehodová is a Slovak multimedia artist who explores themes such as becoming, ultimate ecologies, embodiment, identity and personal ethics. She approaches these topics and resonant questions with food and clay at hand.
Her old hands swept the flour mill, skimmed the cream off the top of the lone milk jug in the cellar, and scraped the last bit of butter from the dish. She kneaded the dough in a bowl by the dim candlelight.
Out came a round, puffy bread man, fried till pink.
So full of himself was the bread man that he rolled away, away from her old hands and her hungry- muthed husband.
Through the forest, the bread man went, encountering many creatures. He outran them all, boasting. Blindly trusting the cunning fox, he almost lost his head. At last, a hedgehog caught him, only to return him home.
The Slovak version of this story guesses that the bread man (Slovak: pampúch) returned home to bring joy to his elderly makers. The story ends there, but undoubtedly, the couple ate the bread man.
If one is what one eats, did the makers absorb their creation's arrogance?
Through the transformation of the bread man, my installation delves into integrity, sustainability, foolishness, and potentiality of bread and men alike. Their interplay materialises as an overspill constrained object, a jiggling yet-to-be bread, a brittle skin-like residue, and gluing support in place of discs in a dispositionate spine.
The work in pictures.