ARTISTS TALKING

Gareth Jones' new commission for Cubitt, now under the curatorship of Emily Pethick, takes the form of a variance on the basic structure of a small gallery plinth. Spread across the gallery floor are nine quasi-literal permutations on the humble prop that Anthony Caro spent so much time trying to consign to the scrap heap. Though the basic dimensions of the plinth that the works are based on, are standardised in every way, the relatively small scale of the structures gives a personal feel to them that makes it seem less generic than the quotidian form would ordinarily suggest. As the pieces are ostensibly customised, the descriptive and analytical approach to the materials and titling of the works is slightly at odds with a process and an end product that is essentially emblematic.

Going under unambiguously, matter-of-fact headings the nine little towers are fundamentally elucidatory regarding their nature, as they enact a type of dysfunctional functionalism born out of the sovereignty of their factual status and descriptive presence. Most are made up out of an assortment of routine domestic building materials and configured according to basic geometric design principles. Except for Untitled Structure that is two circa 1970s Sharp speakers, one on top of the other, and Wrapped Plinth, which, wrapped in a photograph, implies the way it is made without actually disclosing it.

Each of the plinths, in one way or another, reference a stratum in art production. Stacked Plinth is made up of building blocks in the style of Carl Andre 'equivalents' and the game 'Jenga', Light Plinth is an open top plinth with a neon tube illuminating inside like a piece of Arte Povera; Modular Plinth is governed by a rudimentary, geometric abstraction and Number Plinth pays homage to Minimalism. It's easy to spot comments on Conceptual Art, 'appropriation' and representation as well. The loose canon of the group is Tape Plinth, which, with its loopy, wigged weave of cassette tape dangling down on all sides, is more capricious and unruly than the rest.

The real meditation of the work though is on its philosophical leanings toward the material nature of things. The deadpan and wry treatment of the materials comes across like Martin Creed with straight lines, and Creed's take on Wittgenstein, 'the whole world + the work = the whole world' has never been more appropriate than when considered in relation to pieces of art like this. The modest, non-ideological feel to the interior of the gallery lends itself to this type of reading also; almost as if the work had been cut from the same cloth as the fabric of the gallery. Or as Wittgenstein himself might put it, "The world is everything that is the case".