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ARTICLES
Dear Stuart, The first word that struck me on seeing your work was REBEL. Within an exhibition of predominantly crafted works, your installation struck me as an attempt at an anti-aesthetic, an attempt to bring contemporary art and meaning into a traditional environment. On first glance it seemed messy, it seemed angry and it seemed full of anarchistic influences. - And yet I couldn't quite work out what you were angry about. 'Struggle', 'Desire', 'Will', 'Illusions', 'Frigid Sterility' - Profound, philosophical, political? or poetical, pretentious, pompous? I am reminded of a trend in Heavy metal songs, of the need to express alienation and disaffectedness as a profound existential condition. Your verses shake their fists at the world and it seems too, at the audience. Or have I been mistaken, I read the texts searching for an intellectual commentary, wondering if it is above me, if I just don't get it. - Am I too stupid to understand? The work is very Tracey Emin, very I don't give a fuck. But it is so heavy it falls in on itself. There is so much meaning that can be drawn from this work, I think of my allotment, I think of a run down council estate, of poverty and injustice, of personal confusion and when you write about 'thwarted desires' I wonder if you are commenting on art and the masterpiece. Your work falls into a trap of ambiguity, of information overload. There is so much to see, so much to read, that as in one of the titles there is 'Nothing to See'. If I haven't completely misunderstood you, I would suggest a more subtle approach. Pippa
Andy
Eden is exhibiting five paintings which bring American Abstract
Expressionism quickly to mind: large, monumental pieces, paint
laid on thick and with broad strokes, an impression of depth which
is frustrated by the marks across the surface of the canvas, and
lots of drips. Some are well executed, and sustain the tension
between balanced composition and spontaneous gesture which characterises
much of the movement; Eden uses circular forms to offer a sense
of completeness while all manner of scratches, smears, and dribbles
compete for attention. Of course, the artist has to convince people
(or just me?) that they need to see more work of this kind, and
I think the reasons for returning to painting in this style have
to be made explicit. He seemed to want to focus on the distinction
between abstract and figurative: do these pictures look like anything?
Am I supposed to see the shape of a map here, or the outline of
a Madonna and Child there? Do I try to make sense of obscure titles
like Comshap, or S.V.P.I. with rain and berries? However, the
sense of this tension was not expressed very clearly, and the
works felt unresolved rather than productively ambiguous. (Note:
grandiose titles such as Collaboration of More than One Thought
do not make paintings more profound, but risk turning them into
parody; and too much work has gone into making these for them
to be seen as parodic.) PAUL GASKELL Postcard from a recent graduate to a new graduate Dear Paul Your paintings make me think of nature contained. It's the colours you use, the blues and the greens, it's the chaos and multitude of brush strokes and shades within these. You've managed to create controlled environments that look as if they're about to explode. Your paintings are a combination of mess and homogeneity. In your grids there are small imperfections, alterations in brush stroke, tone or a blurring of the edges. Each painting was different in some way, as you explored your style, extending to a metal sculptural version of your paintings. I'm sure you can push your medium and methods even more. In your statement you write about the Quantum Universe and 'pseudochaotic fields', you've chosen a contemporary concern, illustrated by a well-used method of painting. Keep on experimenting. Pippa
Dear Roy You juxtapose materials to make 'Combination Pieces'. A half of a weathered sandy brown wood barrel against a reflective metal sinks my taste buds. Some of the combinations like this one make me physically squirm. Although for this reason I don't like some of the works, it makes your exploration of the 'formal compositions of texture, shape and colour' gain a wider potential for concept and meaning. At the moment there seems to be no concept apart from a desire to bring out 'Cold and warm textures'. This is unpretentious but somehow I am finding it difficult to give your works a contemporary meaning. I know I should just look, as is your intention, but a vague recollection of 20th century art history gets the better of me. Your combinations of black paint, newspaper and metal sheeting were the most aesthetically absorbing. I also liked the way you would make a small amount of newspaper creep round an edge. I could get caught up in some of your textures. Now that you have the skill and technique you need to consider whether it is relevant to find a contemporary reference point. If not, then where do your works sit? Pippa
Marsh's personal statement lets the viewer know that he intends to create a new system of visual communication to investigate the way that religion is depicted in contemporary art. He poses that religion is only depicted in a shocking way and is setting out to counteract this in his work. Whether or not you agree with this statement (Shirin Neshat comes to mind as a counter argument) the other issue is that by religion, Marsh appears to mean Christianity. His plaster reliefs and welded metal wall work and sculpture have symbols inscribed such as quotes from Romans, the ancient 'fish' symbol for Christianity but all are only just recognisable hieroglyphics or are warped in some way - we appear to be looking at Alpha and upside down Upsilon rather than Omega. The work warrants being read and analysed at some length but also seems to create a hermetic language which communicates more obliquely than Marsh's statement of intent would lead us to believe. Marie-Anne
McQuay (Collaboration Programme Manager, FACT) There is a dialogue between "Hope 1" and "Hope 2"-the second seems to be made from the remnants from #1, a disorderly response to the order of the Baptismal fount, where symbols are arranged to illustrate, or for the intention of meaning; #2 dives into the arbitrariness of the sign. Both pieces use the cut out as a form and surface, in #1 the gridded ovals of metal form a flame, while they take on chaotic pattern in the wall relief. All of Marsh's work share surfaces that are marked with scars, cutting, and burning. The text itself doesn't illuminate. The religious symbols fix meaning while those undecipherable become decoration, without any structural purpose. This is the problem of the work-its elements are selected with purpose, but then arranged to become meaningless. The source of the text is from the Bible, about hope, but one would never know this by looking at the work. Joanna
Spitzner LISA MILWARD As with many pieces in the show I am struck by the high levels of production and ambition. The classical surroundings conspire with the look of the work to give the deceptive impression of a canonical museum show. A dismembered car hung cruciform becomes something like an icon of disenchantment in urban car culture, between Cadillac Farm and Mutoid Waste Company. The hanging gives it a sacred monumentality. The statement tells us that the artist is interested in graffitti and individual freedom of expression. This is problematic as the work seems to repeat that moment in the Eighties when graffitti was taken out of context and into the gallery. Paint marks on the A Train or a city wall occupy territory with the positive assertion: 'I', or 'I am here', inserting the presence of the invisible graffitist into the public space. On canvas in the museum they become empty gestures, just as here on the car the paint is not inscription but decoration. This graffitti is divorced from social content, aestheticised, becomes a 'look', code for a generalised idea of a kind of individual freedom but bearing nothing of it - except perhaps the artist's freedom to play around with objects and ideas more or less consequentially. The emphasis on the production of the art object seems to have eclipsed the process of questioning and reflection which would have brought the work closer to the ideas she wished to explore. Instead she invokes the spectacular and monumental - the language of the institution. Critical reflection en route during this drive towards production seems to have been all but missing, but perhaps she is not to blame. The artist's imagination and drive comes through in the hypnotising and beautiful irregular pulse of a pile of sidelights, warm orange and red, under the open bonnet. In the semi-darkness it evokes the sad pointlessness of a slowed-down rave - when speed is taken away, what is left? This element alone would make a strong statement. Imogen Stidworthy
Paul
Sullivan SUE SHARPLES Postcard from a recent graduate to a new graduate Dear Sue You make beautiful objects, I felt myself falling for their seductiveness. A niggling feeling at the back of my mind kept telling me that they were too Cathy de Monchaux without the unpleasantly erotic touch. - But I could still look at them for hours, and in this your work has so much potential to be brilliant. What keeps me from saying it is, is my own questioning of what art should, could be. Your use of the materials seemed at times exquisitely delicate and at others heavy handed. Either way it was obvious that you know your materials back to front, your craft is unquestionable. Is it craft? That's what makes me suspicious. I like the way you refer to craft, in your bronze Armour that could have been an archaeological discovery. This makes your whole exhibition appear more self-aware. How you exhibit your work is another question that could be really interesting. Your heavier, more ungainly works hint at vertebrae, at insects and science fiction tentacled monsters. On a more abstract level, they also have an appearance of modernist sculptural forms making the work appear slightly dated. An archaeological perspective, on the other hand, refers them right back to the dinosaurs and the exhibits in the Natural History Museum. In a conceptual sense, you are making museum pieces. Despite your use of heavy industrial materials for such apparently delicate objects, despite your reference to man made society versus nature, process, cloning and malformation, your work has the appearance of being blissfully unaware of a world outside art. The presence of your objects as objects overrides the conceptual meanings. The works could have been made 10 years ago, and you need to find a context that makes them more than something that could sit beside a coffee table or decorate a garden. In some ways I really like them, but you sit a fine line between being a more traditional and a contemporary artist. Pippa
ANGELICA SMITH At first glance Smith's work seems like a series of paintings of flowers. At second glance this initial perception is not challenged. Five paintings of flowers, oil/acrylic on canvas 1, Petiole, 2, Floret, 3 Petaline, 4 Floriferous, 5 Florited. A closer examination of Smith's horticultural musings reveal a formula. Each painting has a pastel background, a wash which covers the whole canvas (step 1), a large oblique box which covers most of the canvas is painted over pastel wash (step 2). A long vertical oblong box is painted over oblique box (step 3), a colour flower is painted in the dark box (step 4), a coloured section of a flower coming out of the dark box is painted and is the only thing outside the dark box which is allowed any colour (step 5). A vertical set of black lines which represent the stems of the flowers connects the bottom of the canvas with the top of the canvas (step 6). Painting complete. The
artist's statement is a poem about her relationship with her Dad,
their greenhouse and their garden and we must respect that. However,
the poem also talks of a 'kaleidoscope of colours'. This is linked
to a childhood memory. It is an evocative image and I wish she
could translate it into the work but unfortunately it doesn't
happen. The paintings are flat by comparison and as stated above,
formulaic. Again, as with many other works presented, there is
a gulf between the power and significance of the artistic statement
and that of the artwork presented. Paul Sullivan Each is of Smith's paintings of flowers are well-designed, and the design of the painting dominates its subject. While the work is conducted in paint, it more strongly references to digital image-pixels and abstractions; line and color; layering. The work has a scientific attitude-intense observation, anatomical illustration and different systems of representation. Each painting expands upon one flower in three different spaces. There is a realistically painted segment of the plant, a cross-section in separated colors, and a fluid line drawing based on the overall plant form, all carried out on a flat, pastel color field. The images move from observation to calculation to tattoo. The
enchantment with flowers is destroyed by the overpowering look
of paintings. While the artist's statement is about the association
of flower to security, intensification of the senses, and childhood;
none of this is expressed in the paintings themselves. There is
a conflict of emotion to rationality-the control of space seems
to neutralize its referent, and the flowers remain decorative
and are unable to be more than a pattern for applying color and
creating shapes. The techniques of the artist become instrumentality:
operating upon its subject without concern to its specificities.
Paul
Sullivan MARGARET WHITEHEAD Nine small 250mm x 200mm canvases hung horizontally entitled 'September Morning Villages, Var region of Provence'. Nine small 250mm x 200mm canvases, three sets vertical, three set horizontal, 3x3, a box of nine entitled 'September Midday Villages, Var region of Provence'. Whitehead's 'rural and urban' landscapes can be exactly that and they can be anything else. Without reading the accompanying artist's statement, an in-depth account of the process of constructing the paintings, we can see that the only real difference between Provence in the morning and Provence in the afternoon is one of colour. Provence was slightly lighter in the afternoon than it was in the morning. The rest of the compositions in the paintings remain the same, that is they are variations on the abstract style chosen, not developed. For all the analyses of the process attached to the work in the statement "light and shadow, solid form, textures, negative space, time and season, personal feelings on a particular space…the combination of these images collected together provides the identity of that moment" you get the feeling that if the title of the series was called 'September Morning Birkenhead' they wouldn't look that much different. That isn't to say that these paintings aren't accomplished because they certainly are, it is just to say that the style and the formula used by the artist dictates the way the paintings are composed (I have a style, It looks good, I will go to the South of France and paint that way, It's safe, I can't go wrong) as opposed to the concept of how a 'solid form' or a 'negative space' can dictate what the painter paints (I have a style but I am willing to abandon it all in order to go beyond where I am now, to take chances). Paul Sullivan Whitehead's personal statement tells the viewer at some length that the source material for her abstract compositions is urban and rural landscape. The tiny series of paintings are arranged in a line of 9 and in a square of 9 on facing walls with the statement pinned alongside. The flat graphic images appeal more to this reviewer without the need to look for traces of landscape or houses within them but the need to explain origins of work is a familiar degree show convention and one that students are obliged to fulfill. That aside, the care taken in the arrangement of the work and the rigour of each individual image show that Whitehead has made a thorough and sophisticated investigation into composition and form. Marie-Anne McQuay (Collaboration Programme Manager, FACT) JULIA WHITELAW Julia
Whitelaw is interested in the geometric patterns to be found in
nature. She presents a series of enlarged photographs of sand
on a beach, focusing on the ripples left by waves; in the other
works, she has traced and etched these ripples onto clear perspex.
The images are absorbing, and perspex is an effective material
for translating the patterns on the sand, but perhaps a problem
lies in the presentation of both ends of the creative process:
if this were a photographic study, Whitelaw might have explored
different effects, perspectives and techniques of presentation
to refresh her subject matter, which is otherwise overly familiar.
Alternatively, if she had developed the perspex pieces she might
have drawn more attention to the use of materials, different etching
techniques, or effects of light and shadow; they would also have
been freed from the literal associations they currently have alongside
the images of sand. But the juxtaposition of the works only emphasises
the translation from natural to artistic form, and the thought
process is a little too evident for me.
Imogen
Stidworthy
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