KYLE PATNAUDE
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The Serpent's Egg
KYLE PATNAUDE The Serpent's Egg original print on aluminum
Untitled 8517-1230
2017
original print on aluminum
16" x 16" x 1"

KYLE PATNAUDE The Serpent's Egg original print on aluminum
Untitled 8817-1031
2017
original print on aluminum
16" x 16" x 1"

KYLE PATNAUDE The Serpent's Egg original print on aluminum
Untitled 91717-221
2017
original print on aluminum
16" x 16" x 1"

KYLE PATNAUDE The Serpent's Egg original print on aluminum
Untitled 91817-330
2017
original print on aluminum
16" x 16" x 1"

KYLE PATNAUDE The Serpent's Egg original print on aluminum
Untitled 8417-625
2017
original print on aluminum
20" x 30" x 1"

KYLE PATNAUDE The Serpent's Egg
Installation
2017

KYLE PATNAUDE The Serpent's Egg
Installation
2017

KYLE PATNAUDE The Serpent's Egg
Installation
2017

KYLE PATNAUDE The Serpent's Egg
Installation
2017

KYLE PATNAUDE The Serpent's Egg
Installation
2017

KYLE PATNAUDE The Serpent's Egg
Installation
2017


2017
“And since our quarrel is with his future behavior, not what he does now, I must frame the argument like this: if his position is furthered, his character will fulfill these predictions. And therefore we should liken him to a serpent’s egg—once it has hatched, it becomes dangerous, like all serpents. Thus we must kill him while he’s still in the shell.” - Julius Caesar
The Serpent’s Egg, a literary nod citing Shakespeare’s assassination plot in Julius Caesar, spotlights modern day executions of homosexual and transgender men both home and abroad.
The Southern Republic of Chechnya has committed hundreds of acts of abduction, torture, and murder of men suspected of being homosexual. European and the American Alt-Right have further challenged narratives through a revived caricature of gay fascism. Translating this liminal existence through aluminum photo prints, the work documents portraits of gay and trans men with their eyes pixelated. The metallic surface generates a mercurial effect, oscillating between a photographic print and negative, the image between victim or criminal, erasure or preservation of anonymity. This fluid space positions the viewer into a perspective of involvement where their assessment of the images can fluctuate between victim or criminal, an act of erasure or preservation of anonymity—and themselves as either activist or bystander. The resulting undercurrent of each narrative is continually that of oppression and or persecution.
This collection of work was funded in part by a grant from the Maine Arts Commission, an independent state agency supported by the National Endowment for the Arts.