It is difficult to say what Tamara Henderson really is.
Or where she lives or where she comes from and where her work resides. Most of the times I try to find an answer to that I think that everything occurs in the filmic space, maybe because this is how I met her first, through a small projection in CCB’s Brain. Then words appear: biology becoming one with emotions; poetry take-over, the endless process of writing and free association. And then architecture, the construction of spaces through drawing, sewing, painting and sculpture. Her Newfoundland body in worldly adventures via material reflecting forms of cities she inhabits, places she occupies temporarily to then moves on to loci offered on the basis of art and hospitality and vice versa. A nomad in a perpetual rooting process, Henderson makes work that extends her bodily adaptations to places and situations, people that she engulfs and she is embraced by while attaching on to them via personal emotional mechanisms.
Is all that important for us to know? I believe it is.
The film we are presenting in Piraeus is a self-portrait. How the artist went through conception to childbearing, endlessly moving, endlessly making work, travelling, body growing, realizing forms, forms that transform as the body changes. A long, part monotonous, part intensely woven film-fabric that goes from the kilns of Goodwood Sussex to the shores of the Aegean island of Tinos via various studio spaces in London, a whole day at the New Covent Garden Flower Market, and deep inside the ultrasound room, where life appears on screen for the first time. Celluloid turns into clay, her hands holding camera and molding matter; the myth of Adam and Eve; clay turning into flesh, flesh becoming film. The hypnosis session from Gatwick Airport with artist and therapist Marcos Lutyens, a spinal part of the film, apart from setting the tone has generated a bunch of characters, a series of interactive sculptural elements.