'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]

Completed Painting: 'Deleuzian Cartography 7'

 

'Deleuzian Cartography 7', Paper Collage, Acrylics & Mixed Media on Panel,
600 mm x 600 mm, 2025

Here's the next in my series of 'Deleuzian Cartography' hybrid paintings, 'Deleuzian Cartography 7'. This is the third produced in this 60 cm square format, and shares the same essential aesthetic as 'DC 5' & '6'. As with those, the piece presents as essentially monochromatic, albeit with numerous nuanced accents of additional colour within the dominant hue. Of course, the saturation levels are ramped-up considerably this time, making this one uncompromisingly, 'The Yellow One'.

Repeat visitors here may be aware of my enthusiasm for 'significant yellow' found objects. It does occur to me that, these days, my approach to colour has shifted dramatically from the atmospheric functions it one fulfilled in my earlier fumblings. Nowadays, the approach seems much more emblematic, often relating to the physical textual or semiotic content of the city, as encountered on my habitual urban derives. In this case, the yellows employed could be related to the high-viz fluoro and safety cadmium that have punctuated the large tracts of west Leicester that have been undergoing redevelopment for many years. This is my regular patch, and I long ago grew accustomed to living adjacent to a vast, ever-evolving construction site, along with its parade of yellow cranes, earth-movers, hazard signage and safety wear. It's no accident that the architectural footprints rising to the surface here relate to buildings that emerged as a result.

The other notable geometric/textual element here is, of course, the parking penalty notice - the collaging of which represents another small departure from previous 'DC' pieces. Car parking is another category of urban subject matter that has cropped up repeatedly here over the years, and notably, another often signified by primary yellow. It also chimes with the themes of territorialisation and deterritorialisation, as juxtaposed throughout the phillosophy of Gilles Deleuze (and Felix Guattari). If the movement and flow of traffic around the city represents one of its key currents, the ever tightening channelling of that movement, and strict  control/monetisation of where vehicles come to rest, is an obvious example of (re)territorialisation. To be honest, I can't think of many more territorial issues than the whole fraught area of parking in cities. 

As a motorist, the occasional collection of of parking tickets, and indeed, the eternal search for unpenalised/affordable parking, may frame that tension in fairly clear-cut terms. However, simplistic, narratives are pretty useless when applied to the complex realities of modern urban life. To those who walk or cycle, the colonisation of the city by motor vehicles may appear as a restriction as much as it is an aid to 'freedom of movement'. Like many others, I find myself a member of all three demographics, and am aware of how one's perceptions are continually altered by each change of chosen transport. The competing associated narratives and prejudices are as subject to processes of de/reterritorialisation as the arena they play out within.

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

Completed Painting: 'Deleuzian Cartography 6'

'Deleuzian Cartography 6', Paper Collage, Acrylics & Mixed Media on Panel,
600 mm x 600 mm, 2025

 

This is the sixth of my ‘Deleuzian Cartography’ mixed media ‘paintings’, and the second to be completed on a panel of these dimensions. My thoughts about scale, as it relates to this imagery, can be read in my last post. Suffice it to say, nothing much has changed in that respect.

Clearly, the prevailing aesthetic of this piece is very similar to that of ‘DC 5’, as are the methods by which it was achieved. It appears that I am once more immersed in one of those series of variations on a theme/vocabulary, to which my work so often defaults. That’s fine - I’m clearly happy working this way and (hopefully) sufficiently aware of the dangers of empty repetition and self-defeating comfort zones to know when a particular well is running dry. 

What has changed in this particular version is the nature of the primary motifs (being those that bob to the surface relatively late in the process of resolving the piece. Instead of some form of architectural schematic, here we have a series of five found LED circuit diagrams. If the perpetual flux of de/reteritorialisation within urban environments is a primary theme of this work, so too is the sense of flowing currents and information streams through which so much of that dynamic is facilitated. Each of the five figures may recall the regular geometry of buildings as described on the map, but clearly the infrastructure they represent is devoted purely to flow and transmission of information/alerts, as coded through the millions of winking LED lights that punctuate our world. In purely formal terms, the lexicon of circuit components also feels like a new addition to the overall vocabulary of the ‘Deleuzian Cartography’ work.

In this context, the small accents of silver which enlivened the almost monochromatic palette of ‘DC 5’ are allowed even freer reign here, (however poorly my photographs may reveal them). Notions of the quicksilver nature of electricity and the metallic glitter of cabling and circuitry seem fairly apposite here. There’s also something very interesting about the way metallics allow a painting to transform its appearance based purely on the incidence of light and the angle of view. I like the idea of inferring the shimmer of screen-based or illuminated imagery in such a pleasingly low-tech manner. In passing, I’m reminded that Jacqueline Humphries produced a  series of silver paintings in the past. Now there’s a thought…

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

Completed Painting: 'Deleuzian Cartography 5'

'Deleuzian Cartography 5', Paper Collage & Mixed Media on Panel,
600 mm x 600mm, 2025

As promised, here's the next 'Deleuzian Cartography' painting (can I still accurately describe works like these as 'paintings'? - I'm not sure). This is the first one to expand in scale, and it definitely feels like some kind of escape from the world of tiny pieces I've been inhabiting for rather too long. We're still not exactly talking huge here - this is a standard (for me) square format at dimensions I'd normally think of as 'medium'. Nevertheless, it's definitely pleasing to have a bit more real estate to work with again, and perhaps implies a boost in overall confidence levels too.

Given the cartographic impulses at play in these pieces, scale and expansiveness feel like key issues. As a mapping concept, scale feels fairly straightforward, although we can quickly find ourselves dealing with more the emotional/intuitive aspects of distancing, detail focus, personal relationship to specific terrain etc. In this context, I'd reference the familiar thrill of zooming-in/out in Google Maps, and the instantaneous changes in emotional relationship to territory it affords. I'm also reminded of Borges' very short story, 'On Exactitude in Science' [1.], in which an unnamed Empire produces a 'perfect' map at 1:1 scale, completely covering the terrain with its own representation, and rapidly rendering itself useless in the process. As usual, Borges unlocks a world of philosophical speculation with the most economical of means. A close inspection of my own 'DC' pieces reveals how the collaged/mulched cartographic fragments vary in scale dramatically, indicating the themes of simultaneity and dissolving territorialisation that I've tried to build into them. The intention is definitely not to accurately map things with any degree of overall continuity - exactly the opposite, in fact.

Spatially, it's hardly original to observe that there's only one endless map (ultimately adjusted to wrap around a globe), and a set of arbitrary decisions about how we chop it up. That alone has caused me to speculate what happens as one breaks those boundaries and crosses into the next portion of the chart. Clearly, there's no reasons why any expansion should result in a regular square/rectangular border. Indeed, it feels highly desirable that it shouldn't. To that ends, I've been working for quite a while (under the radar, admittedly,) to produce a variety of paper-based sheets using the same techniques and general aesthetic you see here, but stopping at the point one might term 'backgrounds'. The intention is ultimately to start stitching these together in order to work/map further onto the resulting composites. 

What you see here, then, is a more direct stopgap attempt to increase scale by just building a bigger panel and getting on with it. Any reticence in launching into this had to do with uncertainties over the relative scale of individual marks/motifs and the effect that might have on an overall composition. At this stage, (and relatively modest zoom ratio), it appears that the problems are negligible. Given the found/digitised/highly mediated nature of my source imagery, there's not too much the scaling functions of a photocopier, or Photoshop, or even just an old-school OHP, can't overcome. Also, the degree of all-over 'Pollockisation' effects that seem inevitable as this kind of imagery increases in scale seem both enjoyable and appropriate so far. The often monumental examples of Mark Bradford, Julie Mehretu, Cy Twombly, etc. would suggest there's a long distance to travel yet in that respect. 

In all honesty, I'm not really sure where all that caution and tentative uncertainty came from of late. However, I do know that if just chopping up larger bits of MDF, embracing risk and accident, and working as quickly as the method allows, are proven ways to break out of that - well then the answer is obvious...

 

[1.]: Jorge Luis Borges, 'On Exactitude in Science' (Trans. Andrew Hurley), From: 'The Aleph', London/NYC, 1949/1999

Completed Painting: 'Deleuzian Cartography 4'

 

'Deleuzian Cartography 4', Paper Collage, Acrylics & Mixed Media on Panel,
300 mm x 300 mm, 2024

My social media interactions have definitely dwindled in recent months, for a variety of reasons. I've certainly become bored by the sheer admin of it all (all that needless checking several times a day, and the sense of being 'available' at any hour). I've also found myself increasingly reluctant to participate in the perceived degradation of discourse and our 'culture' generally (or at least what I once thought it to be). Simultaneously, I've found myself redirecting my attention back towards more traditional sources of information (long-form music, books - remember them?), and also realising that there is still far too much unread literature, unheard music, and unrealised art activity awaiting me, to waste time feeding vampiric (American) social media platforms. I've only got so many years left to me now, after all - endless vacuous distraction is the last thing I need. 

However, I guess it's important not to totally forget the small ways in which digital conduits may still prove useful/enlightening if rationed and consciously targeted. This blog was only really started as a potential showcase for my own creative endeavours in the first place, and there's no reason why it shouldn't continue to function as such from time to time. Making paintings might feel like a far more rewarding way to spend time than documenting and pontificating about them, but I'm not ready to make my practice a 100% inward-looking/onanistic undertaking quite yet.

In the light of which, here's a little painting that fell through the publicity cracks when I completed it a few months back. It's the fourth of the small 'Deleuzian Cartography' panels produced with some enthusiasm/energy, during the last weeks of 2024. In general terms, it certainly shares a common aesthetic and set of concerns with the previous three. However, this one perhaps feels a little cruder/more rapid in its execution. That probably reflects my desire to avoid mere repetition and also the fact that this one 'fought back a bit'. The version you see here was arrived at fairly quickly after an extended period of flailing and I was satisfied to simply leave things be, rather than pursuing further unnecessary refinement. 

Since completing this one, I've been working consistently with a view to exploring the same visual vocabulary of these 'Deleuzian Cartography' pieces on a larger scale. Much of that time has been spent preparing raw materials with a more composite, pieced-together approach in mind. More directly, there are also two newly-completed panels that prove that sometimes the thing to do is to just make a bigger panel and get on with it, without wasting time anticipating the potential problems. I'll try to be a bit more proactive and timely about revealing them...

S.I.T.E. (Midlands Chapter): Location Re-Port 1.5 (M) - Case Closed

 

All Original Images: West Leicester, April 2025

In the light of the transformations documented in this bulletin, we have concluded that this particular site no longer remains viable as a potential portal. It appears that any hopes of meaningful egress here are now negligible at best.  

As a result, the case is now officially closed.

N.B: The whereabouts and current status of the field agent originally assigned to this case remain unknown. Unfortunately, the organisation lacks the resources to carry out a proper investigation into the matter. We therefore appeal for any relevant information which may emerge in the future. Anyone able to shed light on the disappearance should contact the organisation via the usual channels. Thank you.

All Photo-Manipulations: April 2025

https://hughmarwood.blogspot.com/2021/01/location-re-port-11.html

https://hughmarwood.blogspot.com/2021/08/site-midlands-chapter-location-re-port.html

https://hughmarwood.blogspot.com/2021/09/site-midlands-chapter-location-re-port.html

https://hughmarwood.blogspot.com/2022/09/site-midlands-chapter-location-re-port.html

https://hughmarwood.blogspot.com/2022/10/site-midlands-chapter-location-re-port.html

Ex_ist 3 [Beer & Now]

All images: West Leicester, March 2025

“Now there are objects everywhere like this glass of beer, here on the table. When I see it, I feel like saying: ‘Pax, I’m not playing any more.’ I realise perfectly well that I have gone too far. I don’t suppose you can ‘make allowances’ for solitude. That doesn’t mean that I look under my bed before going to sleep or that I’m afraid of seeing the door of my room open suddenly in the middle of the night. All the same, I am ill at ease: for half an hour I have been avoiding looking at this glass of beer. I look above, below, right and left: but the glass itself I don’t want to see. And I know very well that all the bachelors around me can’t help me in any way: it is too late, and I can no longer take refuge amongst them. They would come and slap me on the back and say to me: ‘well, what’s special about that glass of beer? It’s  just like all the others. It’s bevelled, and it has a handle and a little coat of arms with a spade on it, and on the coat of arms is written Spatenbrau.’ I know all that , but I know that there’s something else. Almost nothing. But I can no longer explain what I see. To anybody. There it is: I am gently slipping into the water’s depths, towards fear.” [1.]

[1.]:  Jean-Paul Sartre, ‘Nausea’ (Trans. Robert Baldick), London/NYC, Penguin, 1963 (1938).