'I see you everywhere. I even miss you. Iím built, made, reconstructed. You were much more of a natural. Take a run up, you said, get ready, get fucking ready. My head, my body; man made. This mess; come and see. Iím to blame, who else. But youíre in all of this with me, up to my neck, in through my stomach, down and out my under-neaths. I didnít ask for much, but your make up wasnít up to it. You had the last word. You won out. Iím for the birds. Itís always been in your mind, doll. Mine, I mean. An awkward fit, me, you, this.'
Rhiannon Lowe makes drawings and sometimes installs them within constructed, faintly decorative constructed domestic environments. Occasionally, she writes short monologues too. She works at the relationship between them; and her relationship to both practices.