'The Basin': The Emergency [Draft 1.0]

 

All Images: Bristol Floating Harbour, February 2023 - August 2025

[Reconfigured Appropriated Texts]

Helicopter downdraft suddenly whips the surface - called-in from a remote control centre. The air rattles as gaudy vehicles rapidly assemble [The unit should be brightly coloured and response times are a critical factor]. Concrete is electrified in blue. The routines must be enacted according to each specific risk-assessment and there are also electronic systems available to help speed up and automatically record audit information. According to protocol, the immediate environment is surveyed for hazards and all control measures implemented. 5G technology has been placed around the water at specific ‘trigger’ entry points. It’s obvious something sinister is going on!

All rescue equipment should perform with low latency if deployed correctly. It may also be doughnut shaped. Inflatables are launched and key personnel take up a watching brief at decision points in pathways. Static crackles over radios and shouts are diced by the rotors. With all agencies represented, smart connectivity can make an immediate and positive impact on people’s lives, but sadly, we've turned peoples' deaths into memes over here, instead of sending a message. The line must be able to float, be highly visible and have a maximum length of 25m plus any expected maximum drop. It should also have little or no memory [a full version can be found at the back of the manual to photocopy and laminate].

There is a LOT of water, and is both hazardous and potentially toxic [short-term E-Coli levels in water can be caused by storm water runoff, which can carry with it animal faecal matter]. Metallic waves reveal nothing - but what lies beneath? volunteers have recovered a motorbike, novelty Christmas clothing, bikes, and an inflatable sex doll amongst other things. Extreme temperatures may freeze all good intentions, and probably give you cold water shock. That can cause you to gasp for breath, inhale water or panic, and can lead to drowning. Once unearthed or disconnected, we are easily lost at sea. Hidden currents can make it difficult to swim back to shore, even for the strongest swimmers. Stretch out your arms and legs. Lie back in the water.

The Basin collects lives as well as time. Complete drainage is of course possible, and the ROV is fitted with advanced sonar technology - enabling it to pinpoint individuals in reduced visibility. The methodology utilised provides a novel, useful, and relatively economical tool for future monitoring, but the service has not purchased the ROV and bodies may still drift far from understanding [all are subject to the daily flushings]. One of many reviews has been from a tidal expert, who recommended additional areas we could search further up.

That search goes on to no avail. Definitive tragedy is suspended. Localised mystery blurs into folklore and online theory. So-called psychics have climbed on board offering nothing beyond crackpot suggestions which merely muddy the already muddy waters. The investigation is subject to complaint, but our drone unit has been deployed 16 times during the searches carried out to date. Furthermore, each report is carefully assessed and triaged by detectives from our investigation team. We have detected the obscure impression of a lone CCTV wanderer, intoxicated and entrapped by the system in the early hours. He passes  from one camera to another, struggling for focus. Momentarily, he gathers a little resolution, but is mostly a phantom trudging through static, snow and pixels. This footage is grainy and taken from a distance, however due to the timing, the location and the family’s views, we accept the new hypothesis. Zoom-in, push the image, study it once more.

The system becomes a maze after dark. It’s very dark, and when it is dark, it’s pitch black. In my mind, down there is a very unsavoury area [specifically, the second poorly-lit bridge area]. Few pass, fewer still lurk in the darkest wedges [motives are best left alone there]. The last call was truncated and the phone subsequently stifled, but we have carried out enquiries regarding the AirTag. Sadly, there is no data for this, due to there being no connection to a named personal account. A taxi out, then? - or some other, more dangerous ride? [there is ‘no evidence’ suggesting a serial killer is at loose, but 28 deaths remain unexplained]. Family members retrace the route with torches. As you go around this corner, it’s really not pleasant, but without love, where would we be right now? Circle the perimeter, cross the bridges, then spiral back down [he must have just thought, "How the hell am I going to get out of here?"]. A young man’s cloned face haunts the Basin, gazing across from multiple vantage points. The surface remains impassive. We wish for a happy ending, or at worst - a probability scale to make a proportionate judgement.

Written without A.I. [For better or worse]

'The Basin': Art Trail 4 - Calligraphic Cave Art [Draft 1.0]

 

All Images: Cumberland Basin, Bristol, April 2023 - April 2024

[Reconfigured Appropriated Texts]:

Our situation today is to break down a door of knowledge hidden behind society, and the accreted scrawling at this site do appear to represent a cursive recuperation and remembrance of this forgetting. The axiom that rock art is notoriously difficult to date serves only to paint a partial picture of the inconsistent and contested chronological records, now that pigments and other materials can often be precisely dated with scientific techniques [e.g. Radiocarbon Dating or Accelerator Mass Spectometry]. What is incontestable is that the stylings identify as ‘Heritage Wild’ - a form of debased mannerism in which hardcore war went down, with markers against markers and letters against letters [pictograms are largely absent here]. Those who paused long enough performed a signature encoding, possibly hiding in a bush before run-ups, and the neural networking that occurs when we find ourselves creating in real time is none other than hyperspace. The inscriptions demonstrate stylistic evolution, from early blocking/balooning strategies to more refined flourishes [often ambiguous in terms of their general form]. They prioritise linear over polychromatic effects, using paints that scar, engine enamel, or - at the very least, matt black, punctuated with accents of white, red and yellow. Spray will go on everything when formulated with egg albumen, urine, blood, saliva or water, and an understanding of nozzle control apparently emerges early, even in primitive cultures.

Entropy prevails and accurate prediction of concrete aging must factor-in an innovative method, leveraging machine learning techniques [employing seven algorithms]. It isn't too long before concrete structures begin to show signs of aging and deterioration. In this sheltered location, the dressing and crisp junctures endure, and reduced ultra-violet levels within the cavern limit the fades. Nevertheless, time is fluid. The flows are inescapable, as is the case throughout. Their flux-value denotes the fraction of variance in the response feature that can be elucidated by the regression model. Chemical agents, such as acids and alkalis can also react. Extensive seepages are clearly defined with their various origin points and courses traceable through routine inspections and thorough documentation of residual beauty [both sub-aquatic and profound]. Note that he choice was made to exclude observations with missing value [editing phase]. The stainings and leachings originate in  elevated run-off, but prefigure a greater liquid deteritorialisation through the rising of the levels [see draft mitigation proposals]. Condemnation awaits in suspension, particularly concerning chloride penetration.

The original system discouraged footfall, raising questions over the site’s actual function. It is not a matter of heritage policies only, but often involves other sectors. Some see it as a sacred location, accessed with deliberation and specifically set aside as the venue for a vast theoretical project developed over a lifetime that was mythos, cosmology and philosophical system all rolled into one. Others assert more direct territorial imperatives [the pissing of the nozzle, ancient hominid flag-planting, etc]. It is also impossible to overlook urban, educational, legislative, criminal, and other policies. These views are far from antithetical and non are precluded  by drifting approaches. When dealing with the data gathering, a special interest should be placed on the content and possible motivation [possibly no more complex than a 2 year-old child that hasn’t learnt to share yet]. Certainly, the location of identity may be a particularly sacred tenet within the cultural branching represented, but over-coding is ceaseless in either event. Maybe ‘they’ should have tried some poems or something. Interestingly, we also see some cancellation attempts, constituting an interim palimpsestic erasure stage in the overall cycle. Light colours such as white or magnolia take at least two coats to cover and some products can be very strong and cause permanent damage. You have to find your way around, and deal with strange plants, predators and prey, but any visitors prepared to linger at the site [particularly those viewing the artwork under the flickering blue light of some magical  emergency] will continue to take pictures, analyse and publicly ridicule.

Written without A.I. [For better or worse]

'The Basin': Art Trail 3 - Ritual Space [Draft 1.0]

All Images: Hotwells/Cumberland Basin, Bristol, April 2024

[Reconfigured Appropriated Texts]:

This is a collaborative, multidisciplinary endeavour, demonstrating a clear desire to reimagine the traditional parameters the exhibition space. The objective has become to find ways to think in terms of modalities of association and interrelatedness rather than modalities of separation. Intersectionality and emergence soon became key operators, underpinning the intention that the new topology would be a place where not only different artists are programmed but rather it would understand itself as a place where an ecology of energetically and structurally different gatherings can take place. The over-coding of earlier imperatives is clearly evident - whether through applied surface coatings, or by showcasing the debris of contemporary subcultural diversions. In this way, we retain the insights of the postmodern code from a more complex vantage that is able to integrate it, as well as the others, in a multilayered perspective. Fleeting encampment and vehicular abandon are not unknown.

The space itself is experienced as a ‘glade of contemplation’, separated out from the surrounding machinery, and defined by forest trunks and the intervals between. Interiority operates through the canopy above [although certain tantalising sight-lines to The Control Room do remain]. The question is posed: with which parts of our bodies and which senses, with which freedoms and responsibilities, do we want to encounter artworks and each other in these spaces? Certainly, access/egress are permitted from all directions, although a clear processional route is also indicated.

All our actions when constructing a ritual space come from choices which are fundamentally crooked in nature. Instead of seeing God as a distant man in the sky, we will begin to see the Godly nature of reality itself, that every moment is an unfathomable gift that just keeps on giving. Consequently, variable viewpoints are intrinsic, with insights sectioned accordingly, as devotees interact with the assorted sacred features assembled within [fertility/offering mounds, divine texts, cosmological diagrams, symbolic pictograms, and mysterious artefacts such as ‘The Step-Up’, etc.]. If we presume the conditions of a ritual space per se are to evoke the primacy of something which we are not completely aware of, then ‘Ritual Space’ becomes something of a platform upon which to lay our fascinations.

Written without A.I. [for better or worse].

The City Paints Itself

All Images: West Leicester, August 2025

'The Everyday', as it plays out within the city, and the application of painterly gestures to the street plan, are key features of my artwork. Consequently, I routinely range far and wide across the urban landscape in search of visual stimulation.

Occasionally, it arrives at my own doorstep unbidden...

Written without A.I. [For better or worse]

'We Grown-Ups Can Also Be Afraid', At Attenborough Arts Centre, Leicester

 

(L.): Francisca Aninat, 'Interior/Exterior Field', Canvas, Cardboard, Newspaper & Thread, 2007
(R.): Mona Hartoum, 'Hot Spot', Stainless Steel & Neon, 2006
(All Images: 'We Grown-Ups Can Also Be Afraid', Attenborough Arts Centre, Leicester, July 2025)

I managed to catch up with my friend Andrew Smith, a few days ago, and we took the time to visit the 'We Grown-Ups Can also Be Afraid' exhibition at Leicester's Attenborough Arts Centre. It proved well worth the effort. Although modest in scale, the show features a well curated selection of stimulating contemporary work from the private collection of David and Indré Roberts. I won't claim any prior knowledge of them, or of the Roberts Institute of Art, but a modicum of research suggests the latter is a non-profit organisation with considerable outreach and heft. The Attenborough exhibition itself aims to showcase work that engages with a range of the crises and insecurities that haunt our world, without descending to the level of mere sloganeering or shallow didacticism - something which sometimes feels like a limiting factor in so much of the current work littering contemporary galleries across the globe. 

Don't get me wrong, I have no objection to the arts being engaged with socio-political issues. Indeed, I'd even argue that it is a duty of any creative endeavour to acknowledge and critique the times in which it emerges, if it is to claim any relevance beyond being 'mere' decor/escapism. Ultimately though, I suppose I do have a basic requirement for a bit of 'Art' to remain in there too. If I want simplistic solutions, ideologically-driven polemic, or direct calls to action, I'll read a book, attend a protest rally (or some other variety of intervention), watch a documentary, sign a petition, or even sully myself with social media. The aesthetic of the protest placard or campaigning graffiti feels far more vivid on the street than in the art gallery. 

Mona Hartoum, 'Hot Spot' (Detail) With Gallery View

Nina Beier & Marie Lund, 'We Grown-Ups Can Also Be Afraid', Video, 2007

See Above

There, a slower burn or more reflective approach may often have a greater effect, I would argue. Without engaging with any debates over privately accumulated collections, or the nature of the art object as status symbol/luxury indulgence, I prefer to believe that there is still an, admittedly modest, arena in which made/visual artefacts can engage us through aesthetic stimulation - first, philosophic reflection - second, and perhaps morally - third. 

Direct action, the taking of sides, the pursuit of conflicts (be they ideological or military) - these activities all tend to work within traditional, entrenched thought patterns. One side pretends to 'win' while the other stores up grievance. We pick a side and embrace the associated echo chamber of opinion, or else - turn off the news and feel grateful that stuff doesn't (usually) happen here. We go round and round the mulberry bush as cities are bombed, populations are displaced, children starve, chemical plants explode and eco-systems go up in flames. (Your turn today - our turn tomorrow). Alternatively, might it be that through observation, calm reflection, engagement with the absurdity/tragic poetry of catastrophe, or even just through creative endeavour as a gesture of positivity in itself, that more flexible or adaptive solutions might one day emerge? Clearly, no single artwork could ever have prevented Auschwitz, Hiroshima, Chernobyl, Gaza, etc. but could it perhaps eventually stimulate enough critical thinking to persuade us it really wasn't a great idea last time - and still won't be the next time some idiots try it? If I'm simply deluding myself here, at least, in a show like this, I get to distract myself or virtue-signal with something a little more stimulating than a lot of what gets dished-up these days.

Francesca Aninat, 'Interior/Exterior Field' (Detail)

Fiona Banner, 'Mirror Fin, Jaguar', Polished Aircraft Tail Fin, 2006

Anyway, enough with the ill-thought-out philosophising. I had originally planned to discuss, in some depth, the individual pieces from the exhibition that impressed me most. But the reality is that nearly everything affected me to some degree or another. Besides that, the musings above have already taken up both time and space. Here's a rather more superficial précis, instead: 

 

Phyllida Barlow, 'Untitled: Disaster 5', Mixed Sculptural Media & Castors, 2010

Mona Hartoum's, 'Hot Spot' presides over the entire gallery, bathing everything else in its infernal glow and implied heat. It functions as one of those objects that combine elegant simplicity with lasting resonance. Whilst initially intended as a geo-political commentary, it now feels equally well adapted as a symbol of the environmental conflagration now enfolding us us all. It almost feels like it's accumulating disasters as it sits there and gently buzzes to itself.  Nearby, Francisca Aninat allows the accumulated detritus of her cultural origins to accrete in a new corner/location, even as it may have previously felt washed-away through displacement or migration on a similarly global scale. 

Nina Beier and Marie Lund lend the show its title with their video that combines a visual meditation on the mundane environs of a Danish primary school, and a soundtrack in which unseen children rehearse a song listing the potential catastrophic fears waiting to haunt their adult lives. There's something darkly enjoyable about the way the class degenerates into infantile chaos and petty squabbling, even as their teacher struggles to focus them on the nightmares ahead. Meanwhile, Jacco Olivier's video, 'Saeftinghe' approaches things in a different but equally intriguing manner by digitally manipulating his crudely-painted evocations of disaster, conflict and ultimate submersion, as they are visited upon a tract of Dutch landscape. In passing, it impresses me that both videos manage to pack a considerable punch whilst being pretty short in duration by normal art-video standards.

Jacco Olivier, 'Saeftinghe', Video, 2006

See Above

Fiona Banner provokes literal reflection by mirror-polishing the tail fin of a war plane ('Mirror Fin, Jaguar'), questioning the double-think that allows us to find such sleek beauty in the contours of a sophisticated killing machine. It's another of those simultaneously elegant and profound statements that seems to encapsulate something of humanity's gleeful  death-drive. Phyllida Barlow doesn't summon quite the same seductive beauty for her semi-abstract blob of mangled detritus, 'Untitled: Disaster 5', but it appeals to me, nonetheless. In execution, it might be little more than the kind of 'experimental' foamed-together crap pile one might once have found littering the studio floors of numerous art colleges, were it not for the simple, delightful expedient of attaching castors to its underside. A small portion of portable disaster - suddenly, that almost feels like the kind of thing Duchamp himself might have dreamt-up.

Doris Salcedo, 'Atrabiliaros', Shoes, Cow Bladder & Surgical Thread, 1996

 

More solemn are the shoes of the Latin American disappeared that Doris Salcedo obscures behind stitched viceral membranes, in her small 'Atrabiliaros' instillation. The context is different, but I find it impossible not to see echoes of the Nazi's 'final solution' here too, and ultimately, perhaps it all just boils down to a repudiation of humanity and the futile deletion of individuals in the end. Even more minimal and fleeting in their visual effects are Ayan Farah's stretched blanket pieces. Although resembling highly distilled abstract paintings, they are actually  composed of chemical stains or collected dust, seemingly encapsulating as much time as they do materiality. By applying the residual traces of some implied cataclysm or unwanted transformation, to what should be the fabric of domestic comfort, Farah implies the ultimate fragility of whatever stable life we might attempt to construct. I'm reminded to some extent of the domestic linen that often litters the bombed-out apartments of Gaza, Syria, Kiev, wherever... but also of the grubby bedding of Leicester's own rough sleepers, or the lines of washing in the steel town of Consett, that I once observed from a train window, collecting choking brown dust, even as it dried.

Ayan Farah, Blanket Pieces, 2011

Ayan Farah, 'Nuuk', Sun-Bleached Copper & Dye on Stretched Blanket, 2011

Ayan Farah, 'Eldfell', Volcanic Ash & Dye on Stretched Blanket, 2011

In passing, I'll just mention that all the images here were collected with my smashing new mirrorless camera (its a Canon, for those that care). Such toys don't exactly come cheap and I suppose it might seem like a profligate indulgence, were it not for the fact that I've always regarded a 'grown-up' camera as one of life's essentials. The old DSLR responsible for nearly every image on this blog to date, has effectively reached the end of its working life (bits are literally dropping off), and goes into retirement after perhaps a million depressions of its shutter. Here's hoping this new one lasts as well in the coming years. The fact that the dense text below is legible, from what was boiled-down to a pretty small JPEG file, suggests there's nothing too shabby about it so far. I just need to decipher all those menus now...

'We Grown-Ups Can Also Be Afraid' continues until 19 October at: Attenborough Arts Centre, University of Leicester, Lancaster Road, Leicester, LE1 7HA

Written without A.I. [For better or worse]