KEN / DA KENFor those whom are based in the North-East of Scotland, Ken is a word of ob-jective familiarity. It is derived from the old English cennan/cunnan (to know/mind). Used by both the country and city dwellers alike as a phrase “Do you know?” “D’you Ken” – “Da/Dinna(e) ken” “I don’t know” it is equally as en-gaging as it perplexing and filled with a sense of un-easiness to those out with the community at large. KEN / DA KEN is a visual and written interpretation of the interplay between the familiar and unfamiliar, it utilises the Freudian concept of the “Uncanny”: (to denote the schism and dichotomous relationship between things which seem familiar yet simultaneously foreign. The concept alludes not just to an object, person or place(s) apparent meaning and reason but also its implicit meaning.) Which through its translation to the English language becomes almost synony-mous with Scots/Doric Ken. Within this issue artists and authors alike showcase works of both simultaneous familiar and alien nature. The CC presents: “KEN/ DA KEN” is an adventure into the unknown; it has relied heavily on the zine team of the CC presents, contributors and support-ers familiar and unfamiliar alike. It is the first of four quarterlies from the CC Presents, and the first zine in Aberdeen to have generated such support locally and nationally. So here at the “CC presents:” we would like to thank all of our supporters both locally, nationally and even internationally. Once again we must sincerely thank Yuck n’ Yum for the platform, and ultimately opportunity that their contribution via. Zine Idol has allowed us to facilitate the printing of this in all actuality. The response and interest which has been garnered and received has been phenomenal, with such an array of talent both submitted, and hopefully displayed within this zine.Sincerely,Richard Maguire (EDITOR OF KEN/DA KEN ISSUE) CC MEMBER:

Contributors in Order of Appearance:

Louise Davidge, SHETLANDEwan Mclure, SCOTLAND

Veronika Pristoupilova, CZECH REPUBLICKieren Milne, SCOTLAND

Tako Taal, U.K. Sean Elder + Richard Maguire, U.K

Martyna Benedyka, POLAND. Roanna Scott, SCOTLAND.

Harri Abbott, SCOTLAND.Dominka Hadelova, CZECH REPUBLIC

Jenn Pascoe, USAKirsty Russell, SCOTLAND

p1p2p3 + 4p5p6p7p8p9p10p11p12p13

“TRENCH”, SILKSCREEN & PHOTO-TRANSFER, SIZE, LOUISE DAVIDGE

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24 (FROM THE NEW WORLD SERIES)PAPER COLLAGE, 18.5 x 14 cm. EWAN MCCLURE

PLAY AS A SERIOUS AS LIFE XEROX COLLAGE ON PAPER, 42 X 29.7CM. VERONIKA PRISTOUPILOVA, 3

PLAY AS A SERIOUS AS LIFE XEROX COLLAGE ON PAPER, 42 X 29.7CM. VERONIKA PRISTOUPILOVA,

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5OLD SNOW, NEW SHADOWS

COLLAGE, 20 x 20CM. KIERAN MILNE.

BY TAKO TAAL 6

THROUGH SOMETHINGShe had made the machine and it was good. In a few weeks it could become a success and in some years a triumph. Although who knew? It had already left her hands, and now would begin to create its own narratives. There had been problems, of course: With the mechanisms, the motion, the bearings, the handle, the stoppers, the holders, the lights, and the electric. But now it was finished. It stood upright, it functioned, and it was aesthetically pleasing. All that awaited her was its reception tomorrow. An excitement filled her mind. She could already picture the expressions on people’s faces as they looked in semi-recogni-tion at the machine. Something familiar yet strange and with that feeling there would be a yearning to explore. She too wanted to explore: The possibilities, the limits, the capabilities. She wanted to learn everything the machine had to teach her. But for now, there was nothing left to be done.

She felt relief and sadness as she left the warmth of the workshop. Sitting at the bus stop she watched as a figure walked towards her, their silhouette swollen against the cold; a thickened version of a man. She stared, regarding the image. The figure returned her gaze as she continued to examine its distorted shape. When the figure began to cross the road her eyes followed the movement. The figure stopped, it turned and spoke, their voice mumbled by the scarf wrapped around their face. She started, not expecting an interaction. The figure spoke again. This time she was ready and she smiled. She could now see past the various layers to the being underneath and in recognition she waved. Ahead she saw the lights of the bus approach, she found her ticket and got on.

The bus is a capsule, and once aboard like a beam of light we travel through space and time. At night unaware of our surroundings we focus our thoughts inward. And so we are free, suspended in motion and motionless. Our eyes are trained to sense movement. Back from our hunting days: The rustle of grass, a deer appears at the edge of the field. We watch it waiting for action, and it watches us, gauging our reaction. It’s a game, which dares move first. My grandfather shot rubber bullets at panthers during the war. He was a telegraph en-gineer stationed in India. I remember watching him as he stood in the pantry opening a fizzy drink bottle, easing the lid off, a small turn at a time trying to avoid the inevitable gaseous explosion. Later he would tell me of his surprise when one day as child of four I told him I wanted to open the bottle myself. He asked me if I knew how? I replied yes, because I had seen him do it many times. He told me it was not my audacity that had shocked him but the fact that his movements were being watched and copied.

There is kind of movement that reaches across borders; the beckoning gesture; the grand salute; the defensive curl; the give away twitch. “I was moved to action. It moved me. It was unmoving.” We describe emotion in physical terms. Something felt and touched, a tangible material we are all familiar with. Cork, Linen and Salt.“Does it pain you? It pains me. Is it paining you?”

This was a journey. You, the passive rider, free to experience and think out with the movementIn the limbo of the journey; the necessary action from A to B. We must travel, through some-thing.

UNTITLED COLLAGE, 40 X 45 CM. MIX-MEDIACOLLABORATIVE PIECE BETWEEN RICHARD MAGUIRE & SEAN ELDER ROSS 7

THINGS LOOK BLACK, MY POOR FRIEND. COLLAGE ON PAPER. 19.25 X 25.5. MARTYNA BENEDYKA 8

(REVISED EDITION) BY HARRI ABBOT9

NOTHING SAVE THE DAWN

When in sunlight, now these seasons conveniently collide,She’ll come instinctive with the colours,And all alight my blush, my mark, anddepart from lands I hope not to see againtill your presence breaks from view.And alas, look how I scribe for coining grace partially existing,When readily I perform the heavy ghost myself,And often bow in perfect rageout from stately phenomena.I hope I’ve found promise in your statement, prosper;Look for the dawn and I’ll be your scribe;Within hard bleak night I’ll be writing still.From your imagery I’ll combine my wit entire,So that planetary compulsions we might emit,And develop our world in self colours – from the grey –To draw the tears of meekness through Art’s strengthand rest gladly by our bodily exit.So grant with me your proclamation reservoir,Where I might drown affably to connecting sleep,And when we both sink we’ll dreamof steep and barren promenades of Creation’s hills,And when we both awaken and swim up to air,We’ll combine our wracked visions together,And somewhat handsome we’ll paint our canvass pretty.But Madness then reloads, with its strong incredulous arm,And I envelop some gilded notion,That poison seeps in my blue blood,With not even reddened oxygen to cleanse of toxic rite;Wholly my scars scream for re-opening:A unified cameo to cross me gory, andFrom the sky-rise burst my lousy wreckage for ever more.

Perhaps then the deities would place me in lands unknown,As a hooded ghost with no cause for gloom,To haunt nothing in dark helms of sunken shipswhere no sailors left their souls’ birth places,Or, perhaps among the nations I’d always wanted to visit,Only to walk them now, texture-less below my boots,For dogs to seize by my eerie presenceas clocks do click with menace for the doom of time.So pound me with your tacky violence then,

Goon men! waltz-tired of my rhythmic tread;

I’m bound from the fables of this Earth acquired;No dust ever upon my volume shall invade.If so unhappy I’ll remain, yonder my days,Then why would I dispel such woe from these pages,Just as with woe’s nemesis – euphoria – aligned!If my character be flawed, hindered by dangerous tendencies,Then my dashed symbols and signs of connotative riftshall declare my bested hours, prolific and deft,And if those I loved – and I have loved heavily –Do pine my sad departure, then please lift alwaysthe bounding ark of my continuous book.Join with me or not, my camaraderie unflinchingfor the simple pledge from commitment’s lips.I hover and hesitate because I cannot stop,So take my chase to match my motion.

DETONATE.ETCHING ON STEEL, 55 X 55cm, ROANNA SCOTT. 10

FAMILIAR BECOMES UNFAMILIAR. EXOTIC AND ALIEN BECOMES FAMILIAR 1’7”N. 103’50” EPEN ON PAPER, 14.8 X 21 CM. DOMINIKA HADELOVA.11

SPACIAL SUMMATION #2 COLLAGE ON PAPER, 20CM DIAMETER. JENN PASCOE 12

OPTION 1 : SERIES OF INTERCHANGEABLE PADS.KNITTED WIRE - MIXED MEDIA SCULPTURE. KIRSTY RUSSELL13

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