Other Versions: Carina Santos

Other Versions is meant to provide contextual grounding of the current series of pour paintings in my practice, which I began developing in 2023 and first shown as a collection at Blanc Gallery for the show, A record of horizons. Through this expansion (liner notes, if you will), the series stands not in isolation, seen alongside other modes through which I create that both underpin and expand it. This body of work also questions the notions attached to craft — often seen as less important than “art” — and suggests a collapse of these compartmentalisations.

The newest explorations are the collaged work, created on offcuts of canvases and painted using a similar process to the pour paintings and then stitched together. These pieces evoke crafted wall hangings and quilts, which are deemed as less serious than more traditional mediums like painting and sculpture. Challenging these notions of difference and value, the pieces are presented similarly to the way weaves and wall hangings are hung around the home as decoration.

A series of watercolour paintings from 2021 expands on the landscapes I made at the time, incorporating billboards and signage, imposing verbal messages on otherwise silent images. Some are personal ruminations or taken from songs that have accompanied me during the time of uncertainty after I graduated from my MRes and was forced into stasis post the initial phases of COVID. This series of work has never been shown, but the looseness embraced by drips and overlapping colours — the words that encouraged me to not view art-making so rigidly — it somewhat bridges the gap between my earlier paintings and my current process.

Finally, “22 Hours” is a long knitted textile incorporating the stockinette stitch, which is the most common and basic stitch used for knitwear and objects. It represents the stitch pattern most people associate with the craft, with the signature interlocking “v”s that make up the fabric. The work was created in 22 hours and began while I was nursing my husband after he sustained a work injury. Unable to create more work that required me to be in the studio, as I was doing the housework and assuming the responsibilities of a carer, I started “22 Hours” while I was waiting on him and anticipating his need for my help. At about 14 hours, I continued knitting the piece en route to the Philippines, and I continued to knit the last portions of it while I was listening to ALT Conversations during ALT Art 2026. This placed me in a constant state of making even when constrained to what should have been idle time. The pricing structure adopted for the work reflects the pricing structure for my own labour, working as a freelance creative in London: my own day rate (8 hours of work), plus the cost of materials. In “22 Hours,” the length of time working on the piece is made visible by the length of the resulting work, a visual representation of time and labour.

Sewing, knitting, and illustration often sit on a different tier to more so-called “serious” pursuits of art. Associated closely with homemaking, these mediums are treated less seriously even though they do involve the same amount and degree of labour (if not more) as other modes revered by the systems on which the art world runs. By showing these pieces alongside one another, the hope is that there is added contextual richness to my body of work, but more importantly, a leveling out of what art is or isn’t, what it can or cannot be.