Look if you like, but you will have to leap

Creativity requires a leap of faith that is not limited necessarily to the making of art, but also in how we approach it or attempt to engage with it. The sentiment comes from the title of this week’s blog post, a line from the Auden poem of the same name, ‘Leap before you look’. As I understood it, the poem, (in the context of first coming across it during my art degree) is about taking risks, having the courage to move forward, indeed even leap into the unknown. For all this 'leaping' we may be rewarded with progress, innovation, revelation or new understanding.

 

Therefore appropriately titled, ‘Leaping the Fence’ the first exhibition in the newly reopened Hestercombe House acknowledges this same conviction of pushing of boundaries and pioneering exploration undergone in the practices of sixteen selected contemporary artists who have contributed to British art over the past thirty years. Although it is also asking its audiences to do the same in challenging their perceptions of what contemporary art is within the context of Hestercombe House and what are already well-established Georgian and Edwardian gardens that would have been groundbreaking in their own way upon their creation.

On Monday 26^th May, I went to have a look at ‘Leaping the fence’ (never really being one to sit comfortably on it).

(pictured left to right) David Batchelor 'Colour Chart Painting 33 (green)', Steve Johnson 'Binoculars (charm no 9), Adam Chodzco 'Untitled stile (teenage version)'

 

It should come as no surprise to find that there are a significant number of works in the exhibition which are distinctly garden and/or landscape themed. Perhaps the title of the exhibition inspired from Adam Chodzko’s turquoise glossed stile (pictured) that stands proudly, mixture between kitsch piece of aerobics equipment and ‘pimped-up’ take on the familiar countryside hurdle. It is a fence of sorts but sadly, despite the temptation, not for leaping over, at least not literally. The theme continues in what, joy for me, is Gavin Turk’s ‘Desert Island Scenario’ (pictured) a mahogany carved spade. Likened to Duchamp’s similarly conceptual ‘In advance of the broken arm’ whereby the authorship of the object is questioned, Turk takes the debate one step further by crafting his ‘ready-made’.

Gavin Turk 'Desert Island Scenario' (2003) Mahogany, 8 x 103 x 19.5cm.

Another tool-based piece in the exhibition that appealed to me (in the sense that it is probably the one I would most like to draw-and probably will) is Mark Hosking’s ‘Untitled (Lowland Rice) two steel sculptures that appear to be utilitarian pieces of farm machinery in bright red (pictured) and sage green. They appear at first like two abstract Anthony Caro works, their forms reminiscent in my view, of the late artists balancing/minimalist sculptures. In this sense the work operates on two planes, being sculptural for their form, colour and context but in also having a functionality that the artist has created from a United Nations pamphlet on sustainable development and survivalist technology. I’m not entirely sure what these contraptions are actually for, some sort of digging/sowing, I assume but am more interested in their ambiguity. In past discussions about tools and their uses, I’ve often found that the more interesting tools both visually and conceptually are the ones which cannot be easily defined in their use and/or being classified as a tool. The ambiguity of the objects imbues them with more potential than if their exact purpose is known. In Hosking’s work does this duality as art object and functional one help us, as stated by the catalogue, ‘question the clash between contemporary art and reality of life for large parts of the world’s population’?  Perhaps, it goes someway to doing so, but I find it harder to escape its reality as an art object more than its connotation to the wider world of farming/survival. Man’s relationship with the earth is explored deeper (literally) in Tania Kovats sculpture ‘Sunk’ and in Janice Kerbell’s social/scientific digital drawings garden design is determined by the climatic, architectural and functional conditions of a range of indoor environments. In an adjacent room, Marc Quinn presents a series of prints of frozen gardens of plants which would never grow together naturally. 

Mark Hosking 'Untitiled (Lowland Rice)' (1998) Steel and paint, variable.

The exhibition also features painting by Clare Woods, sound installation by Susan Philipsz and film from Spartacus Chetwynd and Mark Wallinger (the Chetwynd film being the stronger of the two for me). Did I mention Tracy Emin is in this show too? Well, her work’s here and maybe lends a certain amount of popularity and recognisability along with the shows’ other five Turner Prize nominated/winning artists, but other than that her neon poems/phrases, like the one featured in this show don’t do a lot for me personally (I think I find them too obvious) however I do not doubt will appeal to some. No stranger to this blog we also see a painting by David Batchelor whose green gloss blob has seemingly inspired a similar green arc filling the top floor of the gallery windows. It’s an impressive sight when you come down the stairs or driveway to the front of the house (pictured) that reaffirms that something new, lively and fun inhabits within. Largely, the exhibition is well placed with the different rooms each giving their own atmosphere/context to the work. It particularly works well in the case of Bill Woodrow’s ‘Clockswarm’, a cast bronze in the shape of a mantel piece clock of a swarm of bees which sits as though it were built for the space on the fireplace opposite Ruth Claxton’s sculpture featuring, possibly what could be a bee-eating bird. Mark Nelson’s installation ‘Taylor’ (pictured) also works well in the building completely filling the room on the ground-floor. A raft of barrels tied (expertly!) together with rope supports a small tent and supplies for a journey. Where is it going? I’m drawing up my own recollections of the recent floods on the levels...Nelson is best known for his labyrinthine installations, ‘Coral Reef’ shown at the Tate in 2000 being among one of the most ambitious, disorientating and filmic pieces I have seen. ‘Taylor’ similarly has filmic connotations referencing the character, George Taylor from ‘Planet of the Apes’ who tries to escape upon a raft in vain. This work was site specific to Liverpool as one of the last centres for the British slave trade and references the political plight of refugees from Haiti and Cuba.

Mike Nelson 'Taylor' (1994) Metal, canvas, wood and mixed media, 250 x 336 x 456cm.

To ‘art tarts’ (so I’ve been told!) like me, then this exhibition will come as a shining example at a time of great losses in contemporary arts in Taunton and is therefore a glimmer of hope for the future. It deserves every success and is a delight to be able to enjoy and see these works on my doorstep. To the unconverted, undoubtedly there will be those who come to Hestercombe with more traditional expectations of painted landscapes, flowers and botany. To those ends you are probably best suited to looking at the gardens, but if are willing to not just look, but to leap into embracing or attempting to understand something new, something challenging, something difficult then you will be rewarded with an experience that is every bit as colourful but in many ways more, joyous and contemplative as the gardens themselves.

It is also a refreshing reminder that regarding creativity, sitting on the fence is a good vantage point but it also stops us from moving forward. This proves that it sometimes pays to do away with the fence altogether and venture into the unknown. Let's hope art at Hestercombe continues to do so. 

 

'Leaping the Fence' is on at Hestercombe Gallery until 14th September 2014.

http://www.hestercombe.com/your-visit/gallery

David Batchelor reveals his true colours at Spike Island

'David Batchelor..., David Batchelor....where have I heard that name before?' I racked my brain as I walked the docklands of Bristol, one particularly grey and rainy Wednesday afternoon. I was heading toward Spike Island because I'd read that morning that one, David Batchelor had an exhibition of his paintings and drawings there.  I was determined to find out who he was and why I'd heard of him someplace before that I couldn't quite recall...

Seeing a row of colourful, abstract paintings on the gallery wall upon arriving I soon figured it out. Colour! It meant that this was that David Batchelor, author of 'Chromophobia' a book examining the West's prejudice/fear of colour as a secondary or decorative element. It's a great read and now I had the opportunity to see some of his work made as an artist, I was intrigued to see just how colourful (and what would he do with it) Batchelor's work would be.

David Batchelor, 'Atomic Drawings' (1998-2013) various media

I have actually seen some of Batchelor's art work before, but in my ignorance hadn't made a note of the name in order for it to stick in my memory. He is better known for his sculptural works (using colourful plastic components) than 2D, making this exhibition something of an insight to even those who are familiar with his work. In 'Flatlands' the majority of work shown is in the form of paintings, sketches and preparatory experiments on paper/surfaces but there are also a few sculptural pieces (pictured below) which act as a way of connecting the themes of colour and abstraction in the paper works to the 3D ones. A row of such pages are presented as you first arrive in the exhibition, the 'Atomic Drawings' (pictured above and below) depict a series of playful, abstracted forms (that look slightly architectural) in glowing neon's and 'artificial' colours; made in inks, spray paints, gaffer tape, pen and household paints on various found surfaces. Deliberately, I've not shown any of the more colourful ones here because maybe, I'm exhibiting my own form of 'chromophobia' often preferring in my own work to use a more limited colour palette bordering on complete monochrome. I simply didn't like the more colourful pieces, thinking they were garish or there was an unlikeable easiness to them. What did interest me in these works wasn't so much the colour anyway, but the forms, surfaces and affects created with different materials. I wonder if Batchelor felt the same? 

Batchelor writes in 'Chromophobia' how throughout Western history of art, 'that drawing is the masculine side of art, colour the feminine side'. Taking the gender debate in that statement to one-side, surely it is very difficult to have or perceive colour without drawing or colour without form and that the two need each other? There are artists that have tried to present colour as a separate thing such as, Barnett Newman, James Turrell, Rothko and many more but whilst their works in some ways succeed in immersing you in colour so that it becomes an almost bodily experience, I think you still cannot detach colour completely from form. The Turrell light works are defined by the form of the space/the room they occupy as well as the occupant, Newman's paintings are limited to the edges of the canvas (no matter how big they can be) and in Rothko's paintings you can still see the trace of hand, the brushstroke and the bleeding of paint which also begin to create form. It's potentially a very loaded statement to make but I do not think that form and colour can exist independently of each other. You cannot have a colourless form? Even a black and white drawing can only be a drawing because there is a contrast between the black of the ink and the white of the paper. I digress completely, but I think in the case of Batchelor's work, neither colour nor form are his primary concern but a fusing of how the two come together. If anything it is more about how the abstract coloured blob of paint or mark can become representational, as the title of the exhibition contextualises. 'Flatlands' is taken from the novella by Edwin A Abbott, 'Flatland'  which is a tale of a square that lives in two dimensions and 'explores the realms of one and three dimensions in order to consider how hard it is to conceive dimensions outside of one's own experiences.' That book frames the work in this exhibition around questioning what makes two dimensional and three dimensional different

David Batchelor, 'Atomic Drawings' (1998-2013) various media

David Batchelor, 'Disco Mecsnique' (2008) plastic sunglasses

Moving on from the drawings, I went to investigate the sculptural works on display (only to end up, ultimately, linking the sculptural works back to the original drawings I'd seen)! I mentioned how the 'Atomic Drawings' were almost architectural, certainly the green blob in the top image looks almost sculptural being given its own plinth/scaffolding to rest on. This concept of creating pedestals or plinths for colour as well as the layering, fragmenting and repetition present in other drawings has been replicated in the 'Concretos' sculptures (pictured below). Here, broken coloured shards of glass are staggered and protruding from their contrasting, monochrome-grey concrete base. Their weighty-ness and sharpness makes them feel more masculine or edgy than the drawings but are also a little obvious and leave less to the imagination than the drawings. For reasons that are maybe down to personal preference, I think that the illusion of depth/three-dimensions and potentiality present in the drawings is more interesting than the physical realisation in sculpture*.

In, 'Disco Mecanique' (pictured above) a chance encounter with cheap plastic sunglasses for sale in Sao Paulo, proved to be the ideal building material Batchelor was looking for. The artist states, 'I was looking for cheap, brightly coloured plastic objects that I might be able to use somehow.' After playing with building structures out of sunglasses, Batchelor found 30 could be joined together to make spheres. Once again, the work is very colourful and I understand the connection one could make between glasses, eyes, spheres/orbs of glasses that look like eyes, and eyes being sensitive to colour etc. But I still think there is as much to be revealed in the structuring and way in which these components have been grouped, the way they move and sway as well as what the colour or sunglasses communicate. Perhaps ironically all those ideas come together to make a very optical piece of work that is in more ways than one about looking.

David Batchelor, 'Concretos' (2013) concrete and glass



David Batchelor, 'Twelve Greys' (2013) gloss and matt paint on aluminium

Some of the initial sketches also led to creating the larger series of work, 'Twelve Greys' and, honestly titled, 'Blob paintings'. Here I think we find Batchelor's treatment and use of colour at its best whereby gloss paint is directly poured onto either an aluminium or matt surface and left to spread/dry. Like liquid colour the paint creates its own form and each dries with its own unique wrinkly surface essentially also forming its own sculpture. The abstract is then made into the representational by giving the 'blob' a base/plinth on which to rest on. It does nicely link together his concerns of colour, sculpture and drawing. 

What is the most successful and rewarding element to this exhibition is the synchronicity between Batchelor the writer and Batchelor the artist. They both inform each other and so it would be pointless to attempt and try and critique the two separately. The art puts into practice and tests the ideas and theory in the writing and the writing acts as a way of processing and rationalising some of the more spontaneous-looking and random art works. Whilst I sometimes think his choice of colours is a bit bold and a bit kitsch for my taste, there is harmoniousness between his practice and theory that is also investigative and playful. It was still raining when I left, maybe not as much as before as I could have sworn things were no longer looking quite as grey.   

David Batchelor, 'Blob Paintings' (2011-2013) gloss and matt paint on aluminium

David Batchelor's 'Flatlands' is on at Spike Island until the 26th January 

http://www.spikeisland.org.uk/events/exhibitions/iflatlandsi-david-batchelor/

* Why is this? What is more appealing about the imagined sculpture as to the physically, realised one? One has potential to change and is malleable; the other is more concrete, fixed or absolute? But some sculptures do change, thinking of Arte Povera and/or are kinetic, they move. Is it the same as saying do you prefer the painting of an apple or the actual apple? This could be the beginning of something a lot more complicated...