Visualizador de Stories do Instagram

Chromatograms made from samples of soil gathered east to west along the Dingo Fence; photographic records of the physical and biological composition of the earth.
 
Part of my ongoing project tracing the fence’s path across the continent, working with the landscape more as collaborator than subject

Chromatograms made from samples of soil gathered east to west along the Dingo Fence; photographic records of the physical and biological composition of the earth.
 
Part of my ongoing project tracing the fence’s path across the continent, working with the landscape more as collaborator than subject

Chromatograms made from samples of soil gathered east to west along the Dingo Fence; photographic records of the physical and biological composition of the earth.
 
Part of my ongoing project tracing the fence’s path across the continent, working with the landscape more as collaborator than subject

Chromatograms made from samples of soil gathered east to west along the Dingo Fence; photographic records of the physical and biological composition of the earth.
 
Part of my ongoing project tracing the fence’s path across the continent, working with the landscape more as collaborator than subject

Chromatograms made from samples of soil gathered east to west along the Dingo Fence; photographic records of the physical and biological composition of the earth.
 
Part of my ongoing project tracing the fence’s path across the continent, working with the landscape more as collaborator than subject

EXHIBITION

Once Was
Rebecca Wickham

How do we mourn for more-than-human deaths, when all that remains of loss is empty space? 'Once Was' explores the hollow land left behind when glaciers melt, and the grief and guilt that coalesces in the bare earth revealed by their erasure.

'Marina Warner refers to the death mask as the ‘psychological precursor’ to the photograph, in both form and use. A memorial photograph pre-photography, it acts as an object of grief and remembrance; an imprint of presence in the wake of disappearance. Here, these post-glacial landscapes are seen as death mask themselves, cast from the moving form of the glacier that after death, leaves only its impression behind in the earth.'

Showing at photo access until 28 Feb.

@bectic

Images: Eunie Kim @euniek.photogallery

EXHIBITION

Once Was
Rebecca Wickham

How do we mourn for more-than-human deaths, when all that remains of loss is empty space? 'Once Was' explores the hollow land left behind when glaciers melt, and the grief and guilt that coalesces in the bare earth revealed by their erasure.

'Marina Warner refers to the death mask as the ‘psychological precursor’ to the photograph, in both form and use. A memorial photograph pre-photography, it acts as an object of grief and remembrance; an imprint of presence in the wake of disappearance. Here, these post-glacial landscapes are seen as death mask themselves, cast from the moving form of the glacier that after death, leaves only its impression behind in the earth.'

Showing at photo access until 28 Feb.

@bectic

Images: Eunie Kim @euniek.photogallery

EXHIBITION

Once Was
Rebecca Wickham

How do we mourn for more-than-human deaths, when all that remains of loss is empty space? 'Once Was' explores the hollow land left behind when glaciers melt, and the grief and guilt that coalesces in the bare earth revealed by their erasure.

'Marina Warner refers to the death mask as the ‘psychological precursor’ to the photograph, in both form and use. A memorial photograph pre-photography, it acts as an object of grief and remembrance; an imprint of presence in the wake of disappearance. Here, these post-glacial landscapes are seen as death mask themselves, cast from the moving form of the glacier that after death, leaves only its impression behind in the earth.'

Showing at photo access until 28 Feb.

@bectic

Images: Eunie Kim @euniek.photogallery

EXHIBITION

Once Was
Rebecca Wickham

How do we mourn for more-than-human deaths, when all that remains of loss is empty space? 'Once Was' explores the hollow land left behind when glaciers melt, and the grief and guilt that coalesces in the bare earth revealed by their erasure.

'Marina Warner refers to the death mask as the ‘psychological precursor’ to the photograph, in both form and use. A memorial photograph pre-photography, it acts as an object of grief and remembrance; an imprint of presence in the wake of disappearance. Here, these post-glacial landscapes are seen as death mask themselves, cast from the moving form of the glacier that after death, leaves only its impression behind in the earth.'

Showing at photo access until 28 Feb.

@bectic

Images: Eunie Kim @euniek.photogallery

TOMORROW

Artist talk:
Death Masks & Glaciers
Rebecca Wickham

11am Saturday 31 Jan
📍 photo access

An Australian early-career photographer, Rebecca has recently graduated from London College of Communication with an MA (Distinction) in Photojournalism and Documentary Photography. Her research-based practice sits between photography and other mediums, with work concerning the climate crisis and our relationship with the earth. Primarily focused on landscape, she is interested in the materiality of place, often working directly with the environment to bring a trace of its history and physicality into the work.

🎟️ RSVP via the link in our bio under ‘events’.

Image: Rebecca Wickham, 'Tiefen Glacier', 2024, lithographs, 210 x 148mm each.

EXHIBITION OPENING:
Once Was by Rebecca Wickham

6pm Thurs 29 Jan at photo access

‘Once Was’ asks how we mourn more-than-human deaths when all that remains of loss is empty space. Photographs of post-glacial landscapes are paired with a series of death masks, formed from earth, rock and meltwater gathered at each site and cast from a mould of the artist’s own face.

Historically a memorial object that predates photography, the death mask functions as an imprint of presence, an object of grief and remembrance in the wake of disappearance. Here, it binds our fate to that of our glaciers: the Earth’s skin is our skin too. These images speak to our entanglement with, and responsibility for, sites of loss, an elegy and a prophecy.

Image:
Rebecca Wickham
Calderone Glacier, Death Mask (diptych), 2024
digital photographs

EXHIBITION OPENING:
Once Was by Rebecca Wickham

6pm Thurs 29 Jan at photo access

‘Once Was’ asks how we mourn more-than-human deaths when all that remains of loss is empty space. Photographs of post-glacial landscapes are paired with a series of death masks, formed from earth, rock and meltwater gathered at each site and cast from a mould of the artist’s own face.

Historically a memorial object that predates photography, the death mask functions as an imprint of presence, an object of grief and remembrance in the wake of disappearance. Here, it binds our fate to that of our glaciers: the Earth’s skin is our skin too. These images speak to our entanglement with, and responsibility for, sites of loss, an elegy and a prophecy.

Image:
Rebecca Wickham
Calderone Glacier, Death Mask (diptych), 2024
digital photographs

WIP from an ongoing project following the 5614 km Dingo Fence across Australia, from Barunggam Country in Queensland’s Western Downs to Wirangu Country on the far west coast of South Australia. It’s a work about ecology, extractivism, and the ongoing legacies of colonialism evidenced in the Australian landscape.
 
The longest environmental barrier in the world, the Dingo Fence was built from the 1880s – 1950s to protect the designated sheep country of Eastern Australia. It continues to have an enduring impact on the land it severs, establishing two separate ecologies on either side of the wire, the removal of the dingo leading to a much reduced biodiversity in the enclosed area.
 
Generously supported by a Mead Fellowship.

WIP from an ongoing project following the 5614 km Dingo Fence across Australia, from Barunggam Country in Queensland’s Western Downs to Wirangu Country on the far west coast of South Australia. It’s a work about ecology, extractivism, and the ongoing legacies of colonialism evidenced in the Australian landscape.
 
The longest environmental barrier in the world, the Dingo Fence was built from the 1880s – 1950s to protect the designated sheep country of Eastern Australia. It continues to have an enduring impact on the land it severs, establishing two separate ecologies on either side of the wire, the removal of the dingo leading to a much reduced biodiversity in the enclosed area.
 
Generously supported by a Mead Fellowship.

WIP from an ongoing project following the 5614 km Dingo Fence across Australia, from Barunggam Country in Queensland’s Western Downs to Wirangu Country on the far west coast of South Australia. It’s a work about ecology, extractivism, and the ongoing legacies of colonialism evidenced in the Australian landscape.
 
The longest environmental barrier in the world, the Dingo Fence was built from the 1880s – 1950s to protect the designated sheep country of Eastern Australia. It continues to have an enduring impact on the land it severs, establishing two separate ecologies on either side of the wire, the removal of the dingo leading to a much reduced biodiversity in the enclosed area.
 
Generously supported by a Mead Fellowship.

WIP from an ongoing project following the 5614 km Dingo Fence across Australia, from Barunggam Country in Queensland’s Western Downs to Wirangu Country on the far west coast of South Australia. It’s a work about ecology, extractivism, and the ongoing legacies of colonialism evidenced in the Australian landscape.
 
The longest environmental barrier in the world, the Dingo Fence was built from the 1880s – 1950s to protect the designated sheep country of Eastern Australia. It continues to have an enduring impact on the land it severs, establishing two separate ecologies on either side of the wire, the removal of the dingo leading to a much reduced biodiversity in the enclosed area.
 
Generously supported by a Mead Fellowship.

WIP from an ongoing project following the 5614 km Dingo Fence across Australia, from Barunggam Country in Queensland’s Western Downs to Wirangu Country on the far west coast of South Australia. It’s a work about ecology, extractivism, and the ongoing legacies of colonialism evidenced in the Australian landscape.
 
The longest environmental barrier in the world, the Dingo Fence was built from the 1880s – 1950s to protect the designated sheep country of Eastern Australia. It continues to have an enduring impact on the land it severs, establishing two separate ecologies on either side of the wire, the removal of the dingo leading to a much reduced biodiversity in the enclosed area.
 
Generously supported by a Mead Fellowship.

WIP from an ongoing project following the 5614 km Dingo Fence across Australia, from Barunggam Country in Queensland’s Western Downs to Wirangu Country on the far west coast of South Australia. It’s a work about ecology, extractivism, and the ongoing legacies of colonialism evidenced in the Australian landscape.
 
The longest environmental barrier in the world, the Dingo Fence was built from the 1880s – 1950s to protect the designated sheep country of Eastern Australia. It continues to have an enduring impact on the land it severs, establishing two separate ecologies on either side of the wire, the removal of the dingo leading to a much reduced biodiversity in the enclosed area.
 
Generously supported by a Mead Fellowship.

WIP from an ongoing project following the 5614 km Dingo Fence across Australia, from Barunggam Country in Queensland’s Western Downs to Wirangu Country on the far west coast of South Australia. It’s a work about ecology, extractivism, and the ongoing legacies of colonialism evidenced in the Australian landscape.
 
The longest environmental barrier in the world, the Dingo Fence was built from the 1880s – 1950s to protect the designated sheep country of Eastern Australia. It continues to have an enduring impact on the land it severs, establishing two separate ecologies on either side of the wire, the removal of the dingo leading to a much reduced biodiversity in the enclosed area.
 
Generously supported by a Mead Fellowship.

WIP from an ongoing project following the 5614 km Dingo Fence across Australia, from Barunggam Country in Queensland’s Western Downs to Wirangu Country on the far west coast of South Australia. It’s a work about ecology, extractivism, and the ongoing legacies of colonialism evidenced in the Australian landscape.
 
The longest environmental barrier in the world, the Dingo Fence was built from the 1880s – 1950s to protect the designated sheep country of Eastern Australia. It continues to have an enduring impact on the land it severs, establishing two separate ecologies on either side of the wire, the removal of the dingo leading to a much reduced biodiversity in the enclosed area.
 
Generously supported by a Mead Fellowship.

Last few months 🌸

Last few months 🌸

Last few months 🌸

Last few months 🌸

Last few months 🌸

Last few months 🌸

Last few months 🌸

Thrilled to be a finalist in the National Emerging Art Prize for 2025 ✨

This image shows the landscape that was once Pizol Glacier, alongside a death mask cast from my own face, made with earth, rock and meltwater from the site. It’s from a wider body of work exploring ecological grief, and the guilt that is intertwined with environmental loss.

Can’t wait to see all the works installed, and big congrats to all the other incredible finalists!

@nationalemergingartprize

In 1674, the village of Fiesch in Switzerland began an annual pilgrimage to pray for the retreat of the glacier that was advancing towards their homes. For 350 years, every July 31, they traced the same path up the mountainside to a small chapel in the forest.

In 2009, they formally petitioned the Vatican to allow them to reverse the wording of the prayer, instead asking for the glacier to return.

These images were taken on the procession last year, and are currently being shown as part of ‘Oscillating Spaces’ at @canadiancentreforarchitecture. The exhibition looks to the Rhône Glacier, and the entanglement between environment, spirituality and local traditions. Open until October!

In 1674, the village of Fiesch in Switzerland began an annual pilgrimage to pray for the retreat of the glacier that was advancing towards their homes. For 350 years, every July 31, they traced the same path up the mountainside to a small chapel in the forest.

In 2009, they formally petitioned the Vatican to allow them to reverse the wording of the prayer, instead asking for the glacier to return.

These images were taken on the procession last year, and are currently being shown as part of ‘Oscillating Spaces’ at @canadiancentreforarchitecture. The exhibition looks to the Rhône Glacier, and the entanglement between environment, spirituality and local traditions. Open until October!

In 1674, the village of Fiesch in Switzerland began an annual pilgrimage to pray for the retreat of the glacier that was advancing towards their homes. For 350 years, every July 31, they traced the same path up the mountainside to a small chapel in the forest.

In 2009, they formally petitioned the Vatican to allow them to reverse the wording of the prayer, instead asking for the glacier to return.

These images were taken on the procession last year, and are currently being shown as part of ‘Oscillating Spaces’ at @canadiancentreforarchitecture. The exhibition looks to the Rhône Glacier, and the entanglement between environment, spirituality and local traditions. Open until October!

In 1674, the village of Fiesch in Switzerland began an annual pilgrimage to pray for the retreat of the glacier that was advancing towards their homes. For 350 years, every July 31, they traced the same path up the mountainside to a small chapel in the forest.

In 2009, they formally petitioned the Vatican to allow them to reverse the wording of the prayer, instead asking for the glacier to return.

These images were taken on the procession last year, and are currently being shown as part of ‘Oscillating Spaces’ at @canadiancentreforarchitecture. The exhibition looks to the Rhône Glacier, and the entanglement between environment, spirituality and local traditions. Open until October!

In 1674, the village of Fiesch in Switzerland began an annual pilgrimage to pray for the retreat of the glacier that was advancing towards their homes. For 350 years, every July 31, they traced the same path up the mountainside to a small chapel in the forest.

In 2009, they formally petitioned the Vatican to allow them to reverse the wording of the prayer, instead asking for the glacier to return.

These images were taken on the procession last year, and are currently being shown as part of ‘Oscillating Spaces’ at @canadiancentreforarchitecture. The exhibition looks to the Rhône Glacier, and the entanglement between environment, spirituality and local traditions. Open until October!

In 1674, the village of Fiesch in Switzerland began an annual pilgrimage to pray for the retreat of the glacier that was advancing towards their homes. For 350 years, every July 31, they traced the same path up the mountainside to a small chapel in the forest.

In 2009, they formally petitioned the Vatican to allow them to reverse the wording of the prayer, instead asking for the glacier to return.

These images were taken on the procession last year, and are currently being shown as part of ‘Oscillating Spaces’ at @canadiancentreforarchitecture. The exhibition looks to the Rhône Glacier, and the entanglement between environment, spirituality and local traditions. Open until October!

In 1674, the village of Fiesch in Switzerland began an annual pilgrimage to pray for the retreat of the glacier that was advancing towards their homes. For 350 years, every July 31, they traced the same path up the mountainside to a small chapel in the forest.

In 2009, they formally petitioned the Vatican to allow them to reverse the wording of the prayer, instead asking for the glacier to return.

These images were taken on the procession last year, and are currently being shown as part of ‘Oscillating Spaces’ at @canadiancentreforarchitecture. The exhibition looks to the Rhône Glacier, and the entanglement between environment, spirituality and local traditions. Open until October!

In 1674, the village of Fiesch in Switzerland began an annual pilgrimage to pray for the retreat of the glacier that was advancing towards their homes. For 350 years, every July 31, they traced the same path up the mountainside to a small chapel in the forest.

In 2009, they formally petitioned the Vatican to allow them to reverse the wording of the prayer, instead asking for the glacier to return.

These images were taken on the procession last year, and are currently being shown as part of ‘Oscillating Spaces’ at @canadiancentreforarchitecture. The exhibition looks to the Rhône Glacier, and the entanglement between environment, spirituality and local traditions. Open until October!

From a magical time spent in the Cairngorms

From a magical time spent in the Cairngorms

From a magical time spent in the Cairngorms

From a magical time spent in the Cairngorms

From a magical time spent in the Cairngorms

From a magical time spent in the Cairngorms

From a magical time spent in the Cairngorms

Calderone glacier in the Apennines, Italy, now classified as dead ice.

Litho prints of Tiefen glacier, repeated until the ink ran out

@lcclondonphoto

Litho prints of Tiefen glacier, repeated until the ink ran out

@lcclondonphoto

Litho prints of Tiefen glacier, repeated until the ink ran out

@lcclondonphoto

Litho prints of Tiefen glacier, repeated until the ink ran out

@lcclondonphoto

Litho prints of Tiefen glacier, repeated until the ink ran out

@lcclondonphoto

Litho prints of Tiefen glacier, repeated until the ink ran out

@lcclondonphoto

Small remnant of Calderone glacier / Death mask made with earth and meltwater from the site

Part of my work ‘Once Was’ on show at @lcclondon from Thursday @lcclondonphoto

Small remnant of Calderone glacier / Death mask made with earth and meltwater from the site

Part of my work ‘Once Was’ on show at @lcclondon from Thursday @lcclondonphoto