elimination according to mark
linocut, monotype, obsessive photoseries, 2026
linocut, monotype, obsessive photoseries, 2026
Sometimes we make ourselves believe we are waiting for a miracle, whereas in reality we are thoroughly eliminating it . 'Elimination" - removal, exclusion, as well as a medical intervention aimed at terminating fetal life in utero due to severe pathologies.
The project brings together three narratives unconnected by time or place: the everyday, in {the paws of my son}; a myth reconsidered, in {the Dictean cave}; and autobiography, in {26 weeks}.
{ 01 / the paws of my son }
An ongoing series documenting the paws of street pigeons - red, grey, strong, diseased, with toes intact or missing, with paws or without (1,457 photographs as of June 2026). Despite conditions that grow ever more hostile, these birds keep reaching for a miracle, and in doing so become, for me, a visual field of waiting for a miracle.
Ritualistic, long-durational series of this kind are central to my practice. I call them OS - obsessive series / operating system - and propose exhibiting them as wall-scale photo murals.
An ongoing series documenting the paws of street pigeons - red, grey, strong, diseased, with toes intact or missing, with paws or without (1,457 photographs as of June 2026). Despite conditions that grow ever more hostile, these birds keep reaching for a miracle, and in doing so become, for me, a visual field of waiting for a miracle.
Ritualistic, long-durational series of this kind are central to my practice. I call them OS - obsessive series / operating system - and propose exhibiting them as wall-scale photo murals.
Plain language: I'm shooting pigeons’ feet obsessively because they are vulnerable but strong and dinosaurian. I strive to catch the unnoticed fragility next to us.
The paws of my son, obsessive photoseries, 2026
{ 02 / the dictean cave }
The Dictaean Cave is an actual site, said in legend to be where Zeus was hidden by his mother to save him from being devoured by Cronus. This narrative recurs throughout my practice: a god of time who devours his own children stands as an allegory for the exclusion of the miraculous - by a system, or by any single person - out of fear of encountering the other.
The second part of the project began with a framed children’s drawing, found discarded. Its inscription read: “To my beloved mother, from Mark.” I discover the creatures in these drawings as fragments of the miraculous and build a safe space around them. This is a study in the topology of the miracle - a search for the liminal zones it withdraws into once repressed, and the points from which it returns to reality..
The Dictaean Cave is an actual site, said in legend to be where Zeus was hidden by his mother to save him from being devoured by Cronus. This narrative recurs throughout my practice: a god of time who devours his own children stands as an allegory for the exclusion of the miraculous - by a system, or by any single person - out of fear of encountering the other.
The second part of the project began with a framed children’s drawing, found discarded. Its inscription read: “To my beloved mother, from Mark.” I discover the creatures in these drawings as fragments of the miraculous and build a safe space around them. This is a study in the topology of the miracle - a search for the liminal zones it withdraws into once repressed, and the points from which it returns to reality..
Plain language: I treat discarded child's drawings as a miracle and create a safe space for things we tend to lose or hide out of fear like Cronus devoured his children in the myth
{ 03 / 26 weeks }
The third narrative, 26 Weeks, is a series of linocuts printed on white towels decommissioned from medical institutions. Each printing block is scaled to the fetus at twenty-six to twenty-seven weeks - the point at which I encountered medical violence following the discovery of a developmental anomaly during pregnancy.
The form draws on archival ultrasound imagery and on the digital figures of Tony Oursler. Each block is carved with a burin, in sharp, barely controllable strokes.
How many strikes of a metal tool does it take to reveal a miracle - or destroy one for good? At what point does a being, flickering between the normative and the catastrophic, become good enough to be accepted?
The third narrative, 26 Weeks, is a series of linocuts printed on white towels decommissioned from medical institutions. Each printing block is scaled to the fetus at twenty-six to twenty-seven weeks - the point at which I encountered medical violence following the discovery of a developmental anomaly during pregnancy.
The form draws on archival ultrasound imagery and on the digital figures of Tony Oursler. Each block is carved with a burin, in sharp, barely controllable strokes.
How many strikes of a metal tool does it take to reveal a miracle - or destroy one for good? At what point does a being, flickering between the normative and the catastrophic, become good enough to be accepted?
Plain language: I use a knife and linoleum to make creatures sized as a 26 week fetus giving them safety and a chance to live. Place them on the towels from medical institutions.
© marina tscher 2026