Sarah Kennedy is a designer + artist + director in Atlanta, GA.
She received her BFA in Printmaking
from the University of Georgia in 2018.
She has exhibited her work in Atlanta,
Athens, Brooklyn, and Austin.
skennedy270[at]gmail.com
Sarah Kennedy is a designer + artist + director in Atlanta, GA.
She received her BFA in Printmaking
from the University of Georgia in 2018.
She has exhibited her work in Atlanta,
Athens, Brooklyn, and Austin.
skennedy270[at]gmail.com
(photos taken from top to bottom & right to left:
@leeeammm, @earthlkayleigh, @gracegalvinphoto, @gracegalvinphoto, @amberrkristina, @rachel.sinclairr, @eemmacoook, @chontallemusson)
Sketches for Faye
The Memory of Movement (and A Handful of Strong Lines) lives at the intersection of many longstanding interests of my practice: choreography, architecture, design, loss, legacy.
I found my way into this work through referencing dancer Yvonne Rainer’s movement notes, the distortion of found historical photography, and the uncovering of the 1895 rebrand for The Central of Georgia Railway. Their new slogan, “A Hand Full of Strong Freight Lines,” along with the corresponding cartoon hand illustration, felt warm, contemporary, slightly silly, and directly referential to the people being connected by these train lines. The depots were often the first and last places people saw of Atlanta, a stage for connection and awe. Despite the cost of progress and the demolition of all three major depots, the infrastructure of the community and place remains. Not everything we lose is totally lost.
Once, Atlanta was a railroad center. Union Depot, Union Station, or Terminal Station individually acted as a focal point of the city.
These stations connected Atlanta with the growing west. One of America’s first railroad towns quickly transformed into the capital city of Georgia.
Nothing is left from these major stations, all since demolished. We are left with only the memories of movement within the city.
Strike Out, Strike Out, Walk is a meditation on failure – winning and losing. Through the use of personal, familial home movies intermixed with archival Mile High baseball clips, I aim to understand what makes up a loss. How much effort and hope go into a loss? At what point do you know the loss is going to happen? Is it purely inevitable? With the addition of traditional embroidery typographic patterns, I attempt to shift through these questions of defeat. Inescapably, the viewer is left with even more questions on “Where are the ants coming from?”, “A smack to whose head?”, “What mountain?”. Like most things, Strike Out, Strike Out, Walk just kinda starts, and it stops when it’s too dark to see the ball.