2004 - 2006
Mountains have always fascinated humans: homes of the gods; earth that soars upwards, in a bid to become air,
potential harbourers of choas, waiting to erupt. Anak Kinder unleashes this choatic power as it bursts through the
floor of the everyday: an unfamiliar landscape, whose rocky outcrops, weathered by water like Chinese jade, are
inhabited by alien creatures.
Anak Kinder, literally the child's child, reminds us that, unlike most animals we never loose the ability to play, to
create other worlds in which to find a line of escape. This escape may lie in the deep level concentration entered
into by a child constructing a toy, a mechanic contructing a car, or in the commitment of a jade sculptor who spends
years perfecting their craft on a single piece. Escape may also be found in the freedom that comes from
surrendering ones self to play for it's own sake, without the drive to produce a useful or saleable object.
The teeming neverland of Anak Kinder is no apocolyptic vision of hell; rather it is a garden of delights, atop which a
vast revolving egg, symbol of fertility and new life, surveys the craggy terrain like a surreal yet benign eye. Anak Kinder
thus holds out the possibility of a more creative, more compassionate world: a 'Kinder-World'