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kate finn's stream of art consciousness

About me

If Bukowski ate her brain

Kate is a brilliant artist who initially spent years studying dance and hanging about in theatres and art centres.  Thankfully, a friend who kept asking why she didn’t concentrate more on the pictures she created, gave her a kick up the backside, handed her a camera and said ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you need to be an artist.’  Kate stopped dithering, stopped doubting, and began seriously creating.

With a raw, unapologetic gift of understanding form, line, and colour, Kate makes dramatic large scale photo collages out of small environments that she builds in 3D.

Kate Finn Profile

@Katefinnart says get your learn on about the incomparable @Jerry Saltz

Kate's collections

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A PASSION FOR PENITENCE
Being a non writer with something to say
if Bukowski ate my brain

Kate's Artwork

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    Eyes (2019)

    This work captures those moments, where the freedom of finding the unexpected and unusual around the next corner or through the next door is not questioned, and accepted as normal by the child.

    Eyes by Kate Finn Art

    Eyes (2019)

    As a child I spent many hours exploring the nooks and crannies of theatres, art centres and sports centres. I often used the ruse of needing the toilet or water in order to lose the accompanying adult or older child.
    This work captures those moments, where the freedom of finding the unexpected and unusual around the next corner or through the next door is not questioned, and accepted as normal by the child.
    When I look back at these experiences as the adult me, I realise I saw many things that were not what they seemed.

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      Damn, They Missed

      I was in heaven. Hog heaven...with cheese on top. He was away for 5 weeks in South America snowboarding, which meant that technically, I was on holiday from him.

      Damn, they missed kate finn art

      Damn, They Missed

      I was in heaven. Hog heaven…with cheese on top. He was away for 5 weeks in South America snowboarding, which meant that technically, I was on holiday from him.

      It was a few days into my respite when I began to appreciate what feeling good felt like; I wasn’t tired all the time, being talked at, reminded of my many faults or told how amazing and clever he was. I felt relaxed and at peace for the first time in over a decade. The fact that I felt so much better without him suggested that I was tethered to someone that I couldn’t actually stand.
      Two and a half weeks had passed when my peaceful holiday at home was interrupted by a 3am phone call -from him. There had been an armed robbery at the hostel where he was staying and although he had escaped injury he was understandably shaken up by the whole course of events.
      I listened to the story, made soothing reassuring responses and empathised as I was expected too, while the whole time the sentence, DAMN they missed! was like a litany on loop, playing inside my head. I then spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince him that he should stay and carry on with his vacation…without success…bitch.


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      Mine (2019)

      I wanted to let rip, speak my truth, but I held it all in and focused on all the drama and the consequences that would ensue if I did react. So I let it go and I took the higher road of silence. One that in my opinion is a pissy pot holed road which when taken often leaves you feeling bitter, grumpy and wanting to smash things.

      Mine kate finn art

      Mine (2019)

      I was frustrated when I made this piece. Angry about a certain persons passive aggressive behaviour towards me. The target of my anger will never ever know how much they pissed me off. I wanted to let rip, speak my truth, but I held it all in and focused on all the drama and the consequences that would ensue if I did react. So I let it go and I took the higher road of silence. One that in my opinion is a pissy pot holed road which when taken often leaves you feeling bitter, grumpy and wanting to smash things.

      I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that in this instance their manipulative, jealous, behaviour stuck in my craw. So I sat down, got my glue and scissors out, picked up a book on communist buildings and created this piece.

      All I can say is, that it brings a smile to my face when I imagine the Brutalist architectural concrete that cuts through the centre of the work, shoved up their condescending arse.

      The fuckers. There, I feel better. God-damned human race. There, I feel better.
      ― Charles Bukowski, The Captain is Out to Lunch and the Sailors Have Taken Over the Ship

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        A Shadow of Ophelia 2019

        Señor Zorro is an artist. He said this work made him think of Sir John Everett Millais’s Pre-Raphaelite painting of Ophelia. Who am I to argue with feedback like that.

        Kate Finn Art A Shadow of Ophelia 2019 collage

        A Shadow of Ophelia 2019

        Señor Zorro is an artist. He paints portraits in pixels of light, capturing the true colour of his subjects through the lens of his camera. He loves what he does and you feel that passion when he talks about his experiences taking photos and how he gets lost in the process.

        When I showed him this work it didn’t have a title. He said it made him think of Sir John Everett Millais’s Pre-Raphaelite painting of Ophelia. Who am I to argue with feedback like that.

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          Monkey-47 (2019)

          My utopia would be me, alone, with maybe some pets, on the set of Logan’s run, sat drinking my favourite gin ( monkey 47) and tonic with lots of ice and a slice of grapefruit in the glass. Cheers!

          Monkey-47 kate finn art

          Monkey-47 (2019)

          I have always been able to visualise myself living on the set of the 1976 film, Logan’s Run. I’m not a fan of the films plot because everyone over the age of 30 is culled and that is a monstrous dystopian idea. However, my dislike of the storyline bypasses any genocide outrage and actually stems from knowing that I simply wouldn’t cope very well being surrounded by all those unbearably full of themselves, idealistic twenty-somethings. I was such a pain in my own ass at that age, that the thought of reliving it or watching others live it, makes me nauseous.

          My utopia would be me, alone, with maybe some pets, on the set of Logan’s run, sat drinking my favourite gin ( monkey 47) and tonic with lots of ice and a slice of grapefruit in the glass. Cheers!

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            A Foolish Consistency is the Hobgoblin of Little Minds (2019)

            I remember staring at her, my critic, trying to feel shame, anger or maybe guilt but none came. Instead, I felt my fool smile to itself. It had no regrets because it was a creature of no apology. So I mentally digested her words and shrugged, grateful that my fool was the reason why I was an artist and why over the years I had developed a very thick skin.

            hobgoblins of little minds kate finn art

            A Foolish Consistency is the Hobgoblin of Little Minds (2019)

            She likened me to a fool, not once but twice. And maybe I was. I had more debt than I had money, I shut up more than I spoke out and I was easily distracted and lazy by nature.

            I remember staring at her, my critic, trying to feel shame, anger or maybe guilt but none came. Instead, I felt my fool smile to itself. It had no regrets because it was a creature of no apology. So I mentally digested her words and shrugged, grateful that my fool was the reason why I was an artist and why over the years I had developed a very thick skin.

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              Nativity Circus (2015)

              I’m amazed that I had the balls to print this piece so large even though that in itself was immensely satisfying. The truth about this work is that going big felt good.

              nativity circus kate finn art

              Nativity Circus (2015)

              Who would think it was normal to put a pile of American sweets, a Japanese ceramic cat, a tin foil covered box and an orange habitat pebble lamp together, let alone to represent the Nativity? Well I did!…at 9:30pm, mid winter and after consuming half a bottle of burgundy.

              This was the first work that I ever made and the creative vision in my head was nothing like the end result. Yes, I was a little drunk but all that an excess of alcohol did was to throw into sharp focus, my slap-dash, half-arsed approach to life. It showcases a personality that has loads of imagination but avoids doing the bits that they find boring, or time consuming (i.e. detail). Not surprisingly my pragmatic mother hates it.
              I’m amazed that I had the balls to print this piece so large even though that in itself was immensely satisfying. The truth about this work is that going big felt good.
              Some people never go crazy, What truly horrible lives they must live.-Charles Bukowski.

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                Love Bomb (2018)

                This work was created during a very long conversation on speakerphone, with my friend Tracey. We were discussing the ins and outs of, How to spot the narcissist in your life?

                love bomb kate finn art

                Love Bomb (2018)

                This work was created during a very long conversation on speakerphone, with my friend Tracey. We were discussing the ins and outs of, How to spot the narcissist in your life?

                Tracey is one of the most intelligent women I know. She really gets life and has fought against the constraints of family, culture and social expectations in order to thrive. For Tracey, unpicking the past has meant systematically expelling all the narcissists from her life. Family or friend no one has escaped this cull. It’s purpose was to enable her to leave behind, ‘a negative culture of mental health fuckery’ that has held her back.
                Love bombing is an expression that is used to describe behaviour where someone attempts to influence another person or a group of people with an excessive amount of attention and affection. It is a commonly used method of grooming by cults, gangs and pimps to gain trust and control their victims. Narcissists also use it to gain control of their interpersonal relationships with partners, family and friends and once trust is assured, this control will turn abusive and debasing in nature.
                I have no memory of the mechanics of making this work, but when I ended the call I definitely remember staring at the piece before I photographed it, in a state of mild confusion with the scissors still in my hand and a lot of glue on my trackie-bot-bots.

                Of course it’s possible to love a human being if you don’t know them too well.

                -Charles Bukowski

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                  Muse (2019)

                  I really love this piece. I think it’s good. But my muse hates it because she’s in it. Should I apologise? Nah...I’m too old and selfish to care what anyone else thinks. I mean who has time for that! And anyway it’s too late to change it now cos the glue is already dry.

                  Muse by kate finn art

                  Muse (2019)

                  I really love this piece. I think it’s good. But my muse hates it because she’s in it.
                  Should I apologise? Nah…I’m too old and selfish to care what anyone else thinks. I mean who has time for that! And anyway it’s too late to change it now cos the glue is already dry.

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                    Charles and the Golden Egg (2018)

                    Where marrying a golden egg that lived nestled amongst my pants with a black and white photo from a book about Charles Bukowski, felt like the right thing to do. However, if you need to give Charles and the golden egg a raison d’être. All I can tell you is the act of making it (as with all my artwork) doctored my soul, nothing more, nothing less.

                    Charles and the golden egg kate finn art

                    Charles and the Golden Egg (2018)

                    In the 1980’s, my father bought a 24 carat gold covered chicken egg on a KLM flight and gave it as a present to his mother-in-law. It was such a random act that my mother reckons that it’s purchase was the result of a larger than average consumption of alcohol from the inflight bar.

                    The egg was kept on my grans sideboard, with all the other useless nicknacks that I coveted, didn’t need, but that I hoped I would eventually inherit when she died. I spent over 30 years looking at it in its perspex box, never allowed to touch it. My gaze was constantly drawn to it no matter where I stood in her living-room. The perspex box distorted it’s shape making it resemble a small golden poo rather than an egg. So what did I do when I eventually got my hands on it? I stuffed it at the back of my nicker draw with all the other items that I don’t need, yet can’t throw away.
                    This piece was not created with any kind of concept in mind. It was a simple act of creativity. Where marrying a golden egg that lived nestled amongst my pants with a black and white photo from a book about Charles Bukowski, felt like the right thing to do. However, if you need to give Charles and the golden egg a raison d’être. All I can tell you is the act of making it (as with all my artwork) doctored my soul, nothing more, nothing less.

                    I have no definite talent or trade, and how I stay alive is largely a matter of magic.
                    -Charles Bukowski

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