Catch the Chicken!

Nicholas Wright Ceramic Wall Pieces (early 1900s -present)

The prolifically produced and charming animal-influenced ceramics of Birmingham born artist, Nicholas Wright [1956- ] have been a staple viewing of my visits to Spike Island studios ever since I can remember. I learnt recently that he has been at the studios in Bristol from the very start in the 80s when a community of artists worked together on site. It is therefore really quite surprising that the current exhibition showcasing over a hundred of his works (produced over the last thirty years) is the first time his work has been shown on this scale in the UK. 

Nicholas Wright Ceramic Wall Pieces [detail]

‘A Chance to Look at Chicken’ is just that; chicken, birds, cats, mice and cows are the subjects of this unusual menagerie of animal representations in ceramic. Each one unique and situated within a crafted border of fauna. Influenced by religious iconography and pierced forms from ancient bronze-age metal work, these individual pieces have been designed in a dome-like shape mimicking a boss, which one learns, is a ‘decorative keystone used in the vaulting of medieval architecture’. They have a simple-looking nativity, imaginative or folk-like appearance which gives these pieces their individual character and, like most things of this nature, is deceptive of the skill and craft involved in producing them. In their perceived simplicity they reminded me of Picasso’s animal ceramics, specifically his birds of which I caught by circumstance at the Louisiana gallery in Copenhagen last year. It had me thinking that there seems  to be a quiet joy and elegance in sculpting something from imagination and in its simplest of forms, which is pleasing to the eye and more reminiscent of the actual feeling of happiness or feeling of ‘lightness’ on the glimpse of fleeting moment of seeing a bird than the laboured, detailed representations I tend to render in my own work. One is an intent on capturing the nature/character of the animal being represented, the other a more intense study of what it looks like.  Despite Wright’s representations being created in heavy fixed ceramic there is a transience in their depiction that is perhaps more lifelike than the static observational nature of my own. It is an interesting variation that makes me question what I am looking to convey or achieve in my own work.

Picasso Bird (Dove) 1953

Displayed together as a huge set, one can really appreciate the earthy colours of the glazes, mark-making and pierced-out shapes, defined and distinguishable like stencils or silhouettes against the white walls of Spike’s gallery space. Like Noah’s ark, some great animal archive or shrine they work well together as one big piece even if they were perhaps never intended to be shown in this way. Elsewhere a large ceramic chicken, from which the show derives its name, is displayed on a plinth alongside some of Wright’s drawings which are a useful addition revealing some of how he thinks about the web-like botanical fauna and mark-making present in the ceramic pieces.

Nicholas Wright Chicken Drawings (2018)

The pierced forms within the ceramics is echoed in an early work made by Wright (not shown here) when he noticed mice eating his paper in the studio. Wright used soup to paint onto the paper, the resulting work made from where the mice had nibbled at the soupy areas to create a stencil of sorts almost acts as an accidental precursor to the pierced forms of the ceramic work to come. The element of play and humour also present in the later works. I hope that Wright continues to use Spike as a studio for many years to come, but it is worth having the opportunity to see his work with the space it deserves outside the clutter of the studio. Visitors should seize the chance to look at chicken whilst they still can!

Nicholas Wright’s A Chance to Look at Chicken is on at Spike Island until 16^th June 2019

https://www.spikeisland.org.uk/programme/exhibitions/nicholas-wright/ 

Scissors, paper & glue!

Teachers on a limited materials budget throughout the land rejoice as the variety of things you can do with a sheet of cardboard and bottle of PVA is demonstrated with staggering, inventive aplomb in Michael Beutler's 'Pump House' on show now at Spike Island!



Michael Beutler 'Haus Beutler' (2014/16) Mixed media.

Industrial alongside low budget materials such as paper, string, sticky-tape, cloth, timber and yes, copious amounts of PVA glue are used by Beutler and his team to create large-scale, ambitious and immersive spaces. For his first solo exhibition in a gallery in the UK the German born artist tailors his work to fit the former Tea Factory space that is now Spike Island; here cardboard is rolled, scrunched, wrapped and overlapped to create walls, panels, lights and free-standing architectural forms or prototypes. The resulting work is temporary and bordering between the precarious and surprisingly robust as the limits to how these common-place materials can be recycled and manipulated is inventively explored. Its professional amateurism let loose, in what is the first of what I anticipate to be many more oxymoron’s used to describe what Beutler has achieved in bringing Pump House to Bristol's Spike Island. 

 'Tea Factory' (2016) Card, dye, rope, metal pipes, pulleys.

Cardboard painted tubes in one area of the gallery, titled ‘Tea Factory’ are one example of how play and low-tech experimentation with paper to create structure and form can become vastly transformed when the boundaries of scale and volume are pushed; the throw-away nature of these materials now becomes more sculptural, more weighty and architectural. Are they arches, bridges or Christmas crackers, I'm contentedly uncertain...Walls within ‘Haus Beutler’ (2014/16) become abstract, patch-work quilt like collages, blurring the distinction between abstract surface and structure. All of it is a form of serious or extreme play. I.e. If you could take a humble rag rug or toilet-roll archway/bridge and make another one on a grand scale then it adopts a new sense of purposefulness, celebration of the material properties the materials contain. For example cloth is malleable, can be stained, stretched, scrunched, compacted; it has a tension to it, all of which are properties that in Pump House are adopted into large scale building techniques (the cloth becomes bricks for building).  

It is always refreshing to see art that is fun and walking in and around Pump House feels like being a participant more than a spectator to the work; watching other people inhabit these unusual paper-lined walls feels like being in the art work. As previously alluded to I also like the contradiction of everything in the spaces looking very hand-made and unpolished yet being aware through watching the video pieces (dotted throughout the installation) that it has actually taken a huge amount of team work/effort to create all the stuff in it. It’s a testament to making and the construction and attributes that come with a creative process.

'Haus Beutler' (2014/16) Mixed media. (detail)

I promised myself I wouldn’t write about comparing the work to Phyllida Barlow here; I will not compare Michael Beutler to Phyllida Barlow. I will not compare Michael Beutler to Phyllida Barlow. I will not compare Michael Beutler to Phyllida Barlow....But, I think it is almost impossible not to see similarities between the two artist’s works!!! I’m sorry. Originality being only undetected plagiarism aside, both artists use low-grade materials to create abstract, often unstable looking forms that can be walked in or around by their audience. I think the crucial differences between the two being that Barlow is more of a painter and Beutler is much more context and process driven; the materials often coming from off the site they are built in and thus transformed back into their original environments in an altered state; the central piece in the exhibition alluding to Spike Island’s original use as a tea factory also echoed in the use of tea-bag bricks throughout. The processes of how the components in his installations are made is also often more ingenious than the result and within Pump House a variety of Heath Robinson style contraptions which have been designed to mass-produce walls of wavy, shiney corrugated card are displayed alongside the resulting constructions themselves (and believe me they are quite wacky, but they do the job they were designed for!). I think Beutler wants the audience to know how it’s made and part of the creative challenge is him devising these contraptions made from bits of wood and sticky-tape that enable him to quickly produce larger volumes of surfaces and components to build with.

Humour aside, I was in no way demeaning this exhibition when I called it ‘professional amateurism’ because that is exactly what it is, taking low-tech, low material and transforming it into something new, arguably extraordinary,  which retains the look of a DIY mentality. On a smaller scale these things could be classed as amateur but the installation here is so complex in its variety and volume that it must take a team of organising, planning and professionalism in order to pull it off. It reminds me also of Spartacus Chetwynd, a Turner Prize nominee whose work also sought to challenge the definition of ‘amateur’ within art and critique it as a pure, unpretentious form of creativity rather than as a negative; the perceived ‘lack of skill’ in a work of art is a kind of skill in itself. Beutler’s installation shares some of those ideas I think and possibly may make people consider how we define ‘skill’ and what expectations that creates in terms of how we perceive skill and production within art.

Michael Beutler’s ‘Pump House’ is on at Spike Island Bristol until June 19^th 2016 http://www.spikeisland.org.uk/events/exhibitions/michael-beutler/

 

You could be lifted...

Pardon my directness, but what is it with Spike Island and ‘flat painting’? In 2013 we had David Batchelor’s ‘Flatlands’ and now in 2016 we have Michael Simpson’s, no frills, ‘Flat Surface Painting’. Maybe three years is enough of a gap to reintroduce notions of ‘flatness’ to those who may have missed it the first time around?

 

Now as before, the viewer is invited to see these supposed flat paintings up-close and from afar, thanks to the cavernous spaciousness of Spike’s gallery, and gradually come to the realisation that in many ways there is no such thing as a truly flat painting only a matter of the perspective from which we view it. From a distance Michael Simpson’s paintings do appear very flat indeed and they are direct in their iconography like an advertisement or billboard poster; we recognise a ladder, a steel beam, a chair, stairs, a sheet, but when viewed up closer they become much more painterly, and the surface and layering of paint becomes more visible. These layers are still applied very flatly and evenly, but none the less it is almost joyful to detect traces of brush marks or scraped trowel-like marks that prove these paintings were created by a human hand and not a machine. The human element to these paintings is important because they are so huge, so precise and so cold when viewed from afar that they seem almost uncomprehendingly not human. The reality of seeing them up-close reveals that not to be the case and it warms these paintings up so that we begin to consider the person, the painter who created these images.

 

In an article from The Independant Karen Wright writes, “Michael Simpson hates the word artist almost as much as he hates the word art. He is not ashamed to call himself "merely" a painter.” Which seems on one hand an incredibly empowering stance on rejecting the labelling and conceptualisation of the terms, ‘art’ and ‘artist’ and the purity and commitment to being a painter, almost 'painting for paintings sake'. Simpson proceeds to say, “It’s hard enough to paint without loading it up with too much meaning.” A statement that will undoubtedly be identifiable to many. At the same time however all of this comes with a touch of hypocrisy, to hate the term art yet be in the privileged position to have a solo exhibition at Spike Island; which gets me thinking that the art world is possibly the only industry in which you can still succeed by renouncing it all together; though in reality possibly not the case for so many looking to climb onto the first rungs of the ladder. Simpson, studied at the Royal College of Art in 1940, sharing a room with Hockney; growing up in a Jewish family but pursued atheism in search of, ‘other intellectual pursuits’. This rejection of religion has played an important part in his work; studies of the medieval philosopher Giordano Bruno led to the creating of the ‘bench series’ at Spike. Elsewhere confession box-like spaces, complete with curtains and chair or windows further allude to religious practices. The ladders and ascension like levitation of the steel bar (or bench) are also symbolically religious, but here being used as more formal constructs first and meaningful ones second; their flatness having something in common with frescos and illusionary qualities combining both the formal techniques of painting and the suspended belief and notion of the miraculous found in religion. A staircase becomes a formal black zigzag line across the canvas first, and a metaphor for ascension or decent later.

 

Although one may accept these are flat paintings they have illusionary and perspective qualities that could suggest otherwise; the life size ladders; tilted brick-like forms and a steel beam which are depicted from an angle and not face-on creating an illusion of depth and the sculptural; draped sheets rendered with 3-Dimensional accuracy. Its suspension in the picture plane another illusion of the heavy made weightless. If I have learnt one thing from this exhibition it is that when less appears to be happening, the more is actually happening. The ladders are for me the best paintings in the show and have a believably mundane point of reference to them that ticks the formal qualities, minimalism and symbolism box with great ease. The other works are epic and show tremendous technical skill but feel a little cold and require more suspended belief than what I have as they sit more uncomfortably between the minimal and the surreal without really being either. Curiously for a show that features so many flat paintings, they are actually all quite uplifting.

 

‘Flat Surface Painting’ can be seen at Spike Island until March 27^th 2016

http://www.spikeisland.org.uk/events/exhibitions/michael-simpson/

 

Quote and image sourced from: http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/features/in-the-studio-michael-simpson-painter-8771159.html;  http://b247cdn.co.uk/14206/hero/web/michael-simpson-1450260339.jpg

 

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...

Spike Island -Jessica Warboys

Sunday 5th May - Jessica Warboys' 'Ab Ovo'

 

 Jessica Warboys’ paintings (although she doesn’t consider herself a painter and some of the work is film/sculptural) are on display in the Spike gallery space until June 16^th. Featuring three large ‘Sea Paintings’ of unstretched/unframed canvas that were made whilst the artist lived in Cornwall using the sea to soak the canvas and scattering pigment over them before returning them to the sea to be ‘set’ by the salt water. The description that they [the sea paintings] become, ‘records of their own making’ affected by the saltiness of the water and topography of the beach as it picks up folds and creases on its surface is interesting and can be seen in the staining and incidental-looking mark making in the work. Monumental in scale, like Rothko’s that had been taken for a walk, I can only imagine what it must have been like to physically haul these out of a wavey Cornish sea. The canvases are grounded in how they are hung in the gallery space, touching the floor as though re-connecting them with the earth and I particularly I enjoyed the way they were hung on the wall, no stretchers, frames or mount board –they were simply tacked to the wall with staples and it was this kind of low-tech approach that made them all the more earnest and appealing in my view.  I didn’t dwell so long on the films and sculptural works in this exhibition, preferring to immerse myself in the pigmented, sculptural surfaces of the canvases.