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A Whirr Like A Heart Working

The funny thing about writing is how it can sometimes separate you from a living, breathing person, saying what they want to say, but in the work of Sue Tompkins the text is full of pulse. Within it is a recognisably fractured world of modern communication, riddled with distortions, distances and typos, but it’s fed back through a more tactile world of writing - hammered on typewriter keys, scribbled in pen or cut through canvas.  You can tell there is a body at the beginning of it and this written presence isn’t just a trace, it’s fully realised in the room, as soon as Tompkins picks up a microphone and opens a lever-arch file.

Like her typewriter works on paper and more recent paintings, the pages hold text that is alive, vernacular, questioning and funny - familiar in snatches but newly woven into bright, rhythmic writings. Having got them on the page Tompkins then throws the words into a performance space, broken sentences falling into verse - her vocal storm forming the fantastic …

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