Meeting the Eye of the Sun

and the Moon:

Eroticism, Myth, and Transformation

at Fanshaw Projects

critical review by Gigi Surel

photos by Fanshaw Projects

Giudette Vettese

'I Would Like to Meet the Eye of the Sun and the Moon', 2025,

Installation View,

Fanshaw Projects, London.

‘When Ficino writes that his lover loses himself in another self – and yet, in this same waning and oblivion, ‘recovers’

and even ‘possesses’ himself –

this possession is the gift of the Other.’


- Byung-Chul Han

Fanshaw Projects is a domestic loft/gallery hybrid, animated by the vision of curator Zeynep Koksal. She calls it a ‘living laboratory’: a space open to curiosity, testing, and transformation – qualities much needed as the traditional gallery system falters.

Giudette Vettese

'In the Heart of a Sphere 4', 2025,

Bisque and Glazed Ceramic,

Fanshaw Projects, London.

Trained in philosophy and anthropology in Milan and Paris, Vettese approaches art as an inquiry where matter, sensation, and psychic energy converge. Her practice translates concepts drawn from psychoanalysis and phenomenology into tactile forms, using the body itself as a medium for knowledge and self-exploration.

It is within this intimate architecture, poised between private and public, that I encountered the solo exhibition of Giuditta Vettese

(b. 1994),

I Would Like to Meet the Eye of the Sun and the Moon.

The exhibition unfolds as an alchemical environment, at once tender and unsettling.

Giudette Vettese

'Fool Moon', 2025,

Aluminium and Stainless Steel,

Fanshaw Projects, London.

Through sculpture and video, Vettese channels erotic energy as a force that grounds existence, opens onto otherness, and drives the self toward dissolution. Her works invite the viewer into a meditation on the erotic – not as titillation, but as a vital, destabilising current that binds us to death, desire, and transformation.

Koksal’s role is crucial here: she reflects that months of working with Vettese drew her into her own sensuality. The curator–artist relation becomes porous, intimate, and necessary.

Eroticism, as Georges Bataille writes, is assenting to life up to the point of death – a trembling passage where the individual dissolves into a larger, more terrifying totality.


Vettese embraces this threshold.

Her In the Heart of a Sphere ceramics pulse like vulnerable skins: raw, unglazed surfaces split open

to reveal iridescent red eggs.

They recall the womb, intuition, and mortality –

the fact that to be born is to already be

bound to death.

In 2 Snakes Making Love, the erotic slips into ambivalence. Vettese describes watching snakes knot together in her garden with something of a voyeuristic delight, a pleasure she lets us share.


Caught within marble, their bodies oscillate between violence and tenderness. Neither front nor back is privileged; light makes visible their merged, unreadable forms – erotic, threatening, protective.

Giudette Vettese
'2 snakes making love', 2025,
Photograph Inlaid in Marble, Silver Leaf,
Fanshaw Projects, London.

Snakes have always carried double meanings: in Genesis they are the tempter, the instigator of knowledge and fall; in other traditions they are emblems of healing and renewal, coiled around the staff of Asclepius.


This duality – curse and cure, danger and protection – shadows Vettese’s work.


From jewellery and clothing by Bulgari to Versace, the snake has been eroticised and domesticated, yet here it re-emerges as something more ambiguous: not ornamental, but alive with risk.

Vettese lets the serpents embody erotic energy as resistance – dangerous yet necessary bodyguards of transformation.

The snake motif culminates in the nine-minute video Test 4_Medusa, which thrusts the viewer into the mythic archetype of the monstrous feminine.

Demonised across centuries as the emblem of unruly female desire, Medusa is becoming a feminist icon.


In the most familiar version – made canonical by Ovid – Medusa begins as a beautiful mortal woman, sometimes even a priestess of Athena. When Poseidon assaults her in Athena’s temple, the goddess, enraged not at him but at Medusa, punishes her by transforming her hair into snakes and giving her a gaze so powerful it turns men to stone.


Other sources describe Medusa as one of three Gorgons, the only mortal among them, monstrous from the outset. In both strands, she is marked as different, other, and ultimately doomed: Perseus, aided by Athena and Hermes, slays her as she sleeps. From her severed neck spring Pegasus and Chrysaor, children of Poseidon, and her head retains its petrifying force long after death, eventually fixed upon Athena’s shield.

Giudette Vettese
'Test 4_Medusa', 2025,
Single Channel Video,
Fanshaw Projects, London.

More recent retellings, such as Jessie Burton’s Medusa, bring the myth into sharp dialogue with the present. Burton’s Medusa speaks directly to the reader: four years into exile, traumatised by Poseidon’s assault and Athena’s curse, she hungers for connection even as Perseus approaches to kill her. Burton reframes the story through the lens of #MeToo, interrogating sexual violence, gender stereotypes, and beauty ideals, with humour threaded through the tragedy – each snake acquiring a name and personality.

Vettese extends this lineage, turning the snakes not into punishments but protectors. The monstrous feminine becomes the site of erotic resistance. The snake is a woman. The snake is eroticism itself. In Test 4_Medusa, Vettese’s face contorts and morphs, twisting toward excess, evoking the proximity of orgasm to death.

Giudette Vettese
'Test 4_Medusa', 2025,
Single Channel Video,
Fanshaw Projects, London.

This reclamation of Medusa resonates with writers from Beverly Tan – who highlights how angry women are pathologised as dangerous – to the poet Nikita Gill, who reimagines Athena telling Medusa: you are sacred, one of my own.

Clay, in Vettese’s hands, is as erotic as flesh – pliant, wet, yielding, resistant.


To shape it is to love it. Like Annie Ernaux, who once said she makes love in order to write, Vettese allows sensation to lead in order to translate erotic force into form. Within the depths of the body, where sensation precedes reason, creative energy is stirred. In a culture that commodifies identity and productivity, as Byung-Chul Han diagnoses, the shift from ordinary state to erotic state is increasingly unwanted: it is unproductive, resistant to optimisation, incapable of being managed or monetised.

Giudette Vettese

'In the Heart of a Sphere 9', 2025,

Bisque and Glazed Ceramic,

Fanshaw Projects, London.

To lose oneself in eros, to agree with Bataille, is to risk waste, risk excess, risk dissolution – all the things neoliberal reason seeks to suppress.

And yet Vettese insists that it is precisely in this loss of control that creation becomes possible. The erotic, in her work, is not a deviation from life’s economy

but the furnace in which new forms, and new selves are forged.

Giudette Vettese

'In the Heart of a Sphere 2', 2025,

Bisque and Glazed Ceramic,

Fanshaw Projects, London.

With

Giuditta Vettese, eroticism emerges as both wound and cure.

It is post-orgasmic excess – too much to contain, demanding a response. It is also feminist rebellion: an insistence that love and desire are worth saving from the cold economy of survival.


As a Turkish woman, trained as a lawyer, I never imagined I would find myself writing about eroticism in art. The taboo remains thick. And yet, encountering Vettese’s work, I recognise how art reclaims what has long been repressed: the body’s innate creative force, the hidden reservoir where reason gives way to sensation.

Giudette Vettese

'In the Heart of a Sphere 8', 2025,

Bisque and Glazed Ceramic,

Fanshaw Projects, London.

Giudette Vettese

'I Would Like to Meet the Eye of the Sun and the Moon', 2025,

Installation View,

Fanshaw Projects, London.

Meeting the eye of the sun and moon,

we meet our own.


To surrender to

eros is to risk

dissolution –

but it is also

to be remade.

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