To expect small and sappig from this Clementine is like expecting sweetness from a lemon. Hoens (1995) refuses to adhere to her namesake, quite the opposite of pocket-sized, she presents her own image in metre high portraiture, morphed with the best characteristics from other, less daring Clementines. By doing so she murders her fellow fruits, they become lost within Hoens’ inflated ego. Juicy, highly instramable, lustrous and murderous. Rotten to her core, Hoens cannot be labelled so specifically as graphic designer or artist. It is best not to try and make the distinction either as she might beat you, drown you and cut you up after stealing all your most potent facial features, running them through photoshop and sticking them back onto her own face. A segmented woman with peeling sides or creative genius with many seeds to sow? Whatever the case may be, never mention to Hoens if your name is Clementine.
Text by Sophie Whetton
