Visual art exhibitions and events with a platform for critical writing
Artsway, Sway
9 December – 11 February
Reviewed by: Stephen Riley
In an acrylic case mounted on a plinth lies the severed head of a cow with an eruption of pink, red and grey emerging from behind it. This, one of the most immediately striking pieces in the show, is Rebecca Stevenson’s Pastorale. The way it is placed in the room means that you see first the cow’s translucent white wax death mask, before being drawn around to where the severed neck should be. But instead of blood, bone and muscle, what appears is an elaborately tooled array of swirling baroque shapes that gradually metamorphose into blood-red roses. Whereas the piece is to some extent undermined by the pre-existence of work by Hirst and Quinn, and by the somewhat predictable sentiments it represents, the compelling qualities of death and abjection and the sensitive and luscious handling of the materials still create an intensity and sense of fascination, morbid and otherwise.
Nearby is a shape that seems familiar but refuses for a time to declare itself. Joel Papps’ Dukes’ C is a two-dimensional piece, loosely guitar-shaped, but much bigger and made three-dimensional by being placed across a corner. It is intricately jigsawed from sterling board, and the numerous lines and cuts suggest for a moment that it could be a map, but gradually it comes into focus. It is a representation of the large intestine: the bowel. Dukes’ C is in fact a form of bowel cancer. The work now hangs in a state of tension between its various incompatible semiotic messages. At once, the friendly, warm qualities of the compacted wood are at war with the frightening disease being portrayed. These incongruities form a parallel with our experience of our own body: a happy and efficient thing most of the time, but always with the potential for terrifying possibilities that we would rather not think about.
Whilst weighing up the time-based work, the words of a former colleague came to mind. He observed that, perhaps because of its novelty and its multi-sensory qualities, we demand much less of video art than more traditional media, which because of art’s immense history have to try so much harder to make an impression. Monitors show a ham-acted Fast Show-meets-David Shrigley piece parodying eco-nerdism, a time-lapse recording of a lawn being eroded by people walking on it, and news footage of Blair, Bush and Rice, edited so that they say something other than what they really said.
One piece that escapes the prosaic is Miranda Pennell’s You Made Me Love You. Looking at the monitor is like looking through an aperture into another space. On the other side is a group of silent, rapt faces, all of which gaze intently back at you. Some are close-up, others jockey for position further away. All are intent on staying as close as possible to that aperture. At irregular intervals the camera moves and the figures on the far side shuffle to stay within its (your) gaze. The sound of their feet on hard floor adds to the sense of urgency they seem to feel. The camera comes to a halt, and they gaze again, unwavering, waiting for its next move, hoping never to lose its attention. On the one hand this is like looking at a group of aliens who have never seen anything like the camera (or you) before. The concentration of the faces on what is before them takes away their self-consciousness, and like a series of Thomas Ruff portraits they have an unsettling air of insouciance. But ultimately, the thought one is drawn to, and the allegory the title suggests, concern the contemporary obsession with becoming visible through some sort of brush with celebrity, however brief, demeaning or meaningless that might be.
Writer detail:
Dr Stephen Riley is an artist and writer based in the south of England.
stephenriley8@hotmail.com |
www.stephenrileyart.com
Venue detail:
ArtSway
Station Road, Sway SO41 6BA
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