a l i c e
o l i v e r
after the dust has settled
after the dust has settled, there is a space for solitude. a place for unstructured dialogues, for conversations that fall in no particular order.
in a time of lost connections, find imprints of presence in-between the absence. past the dust that seems to shroud, settling at the margins and forming folds in reality. polished smooth by the layers of time.
like soft veiled figures in windows projecting faint rays into the fading light. a fly on the wall, pressed to the glass. just to disintegrate into a muted void.
as we find ourselves in a strange cartography, our sense of place is in constant flux. a postcard from the edge. an ever-changing conversation. a collection of encounters.
particles engraved in a forgotten place.
after the dust has settled.
after the dust has settled is a limited-edition box of postcards featuring photographs by Alice Oliver made between 2018 - 2021.
The box contains a set of 20 individual A6 prints on G.F Smith Accent Antique 300gsm. Contained in a die cut envelope using G.F Smith Color Plan 350gsm. Printed by Boss Print. Published by SOLA Journal, 2021.
The Waiting Room is a remote collaborative publication that myself and twenty-two of my peers created as a response to our first year at the RCA.
The project was led by Charlotte Hart and Lucas Bullens.
the waiting room
It is an inbetween space. A suspension of time, or a slowing of time that you cannot control. The Waiting Room is neither here nor there.
It is nothing.
A space of silence, instead of conversations we share unknown glances, questioning looks that search for something in those around us. Separated by a distance that we cannot know only feeling our own isolation.
Open the box, take out a card, and another. Read them side by side. It could sit atop the mantel or be taped against the wall. Send a card. lose one, let it fall between the pages of a book. Or simply return them to the box. Something will shift the order has been shuffled and each card occupies a different place amongst its comrades. New alliances form between the layers as each sees something new in the other.
An archive. Something to be returned to, contemplated, in a future time. It can be read and reread. Each image carrying a meaning from its maker, yet forever offering itself to be reinterpreted.
They are musings, memories, expressions of ideas. They want to be shared.
We are simply trying to make sense of our time.
notes to a crow
a handmade zine made up of photographic and written work I have made since the first term at the RCA.
somewhere & nowhere
FIELD NOTES 020
Another Place Press
32 pp / 190 x 230mm
First edition of 100
Somewhere & Nowhere documents the journey my father and I took across South Wales at the beginning of 2019.
My father was born here and grew up in the town of Bridgend, but moved to London almost 50 years ago, and has not lived in Wales since. It wasn’t until I moved to Swansea a few years ago that the landscape of South Wales once again became a district of situation for my family. It was important to show the chorus of memory and place, not just with the timeworn land and Silurian rocks, but also the Wales closer to us - the council estates and pebbledash.
The effect of such small and forgotten impressions on memory is well-known. Whether we like it or not, we are isomorphically bound to the places that formed us, and thus the very shape of memory is that of the land. Even from a distant past, out of which nothing subsists, it is the land that may bear something, imperceptibly, from out of deep time, long untouched. So, I handed my dad a polaroid camera and asked him to document our journey alongside me.
We passed in unison through this vacant terrain, along invisible lines, breathing older airs that we had been absent from. The further we went, the gentle tilt of the green hills retreated up into the distant peaks and beacons, where the seconds grind the mountains down again, down the valley and river, over the steelworks and the coal fields and the people, into grit and sand, washed away and blown out into the almighty recesses of the further and unquiet sea. And while there is sometimes a sense of no time, of stasis, there is also the reminder that all time is running here, all at once, stacked and looped upon itself. Perhaps then, under all that is human, you find the true path of memory, as it is eroded from the great ranges and edifices, transited into silt and dust, down the incline into nothing.
It was in the car that he began to tell me the stories of his time there. Fragments only, but precious things, to be kept.
For it’s well known, the old land of my fathers is dear to me.
FIELD NOTES is a series of affordable zines showcasing photography projects which explore our relationship with 'place'.