Completed Sculpture: 'This S(c)eptic Isle': 'Sentinel 1 (Your Order From)'

All Images:  'Sentinel 1 (Your Order From)', Salvaged Cardboard Boxes & Tube, MDF,
Adhesive Tape, Paper Collage, Acrylics & French Polish, 145 cm X 65 cm X 60 cm, 2018

As mentioned in my last post, I've been completing sculptures at a fairly rapid rate, over the last three or four weeks.  This is, admittedly, after a much longer period of slog, prepping and painting broken toys, and building a seemingly endless procession of MDF carcasses to reinforce the cardboard cartons I’d collected.

It’s lovely to reach that stage where it’s all about assembling and finishing - and another piece seems to reach completion every few days.  With painting, I’ve always noted how the most enjoyable part of the whole process comes about two thirds or three quarters of the way through - when the thing’s still up for grabs, but most of the problematic bridges have been crossed.  At that stage, you often have a pretty clear sense of whether or not a piece will be successful on its own terms - and it’s possible to take pleasure in bringing it to some form of conclusion.  Although it's been a slightly more methodical process, I currently seem to be enjoying the sculptural equivalent of that situation.  Ironically, the actual completion can often feel a bit anti-climactic in comparison – but just now, that feeling is offset by the focus a deadline brings - and the by fact that, as each piece is finished, there’s another waiting in the queue, immediately behind.

Anyway, alongside the ‘Childish Things’ series of abandoned toy sculptures, I’ve also been working on a parallel series of what I’ve chosen to entitle ‘Sentinels’ - of which this is the first.  Whereas cardboard boxes form an important, if subsidiary element of the ‘Childish Things’, here they are the main event.  The boxes clearly relate to another common feature of the fly-tipped garbage that continues to spill across the pavements of my local neighbourhood, and form one of the oft-mentioned recurring ‘key motifs’ of my ‘This S(c)eptic Isle’ project.  It’s not too great an imaginative stretch to associate them with the on-demand, consumer lifestyles we all now lead.  Even in a fairly low-rent area like ours, most days see a fairly constant parade of white courier vans, unloading the latest online purchases.  The cardboard packaging normally re-emerges, to reside beside front doors, or amongst the bins, not long afterwards.

My alighting upon the monolithic, columnar form of ‘Sentinel 1 (Your Order From)’ was one of those fairly organic, intuitive things that just felt right almost as soon as I started playing with the boxes.  I’d originally thought in terms of more random accumulations, but it seems that the vertical format was pretty close to the surface of my subconscious and felt like an itch I just needed to scratch.  There’s also a direct link with the discarded refrigerators, which certainly rival cardboard cartons for the title of most prolific street trash item on a good week.  Indeed, the idea of sentinels probably occurred in my mind in connection with the fridges, even before I started stacking boxes.  However, I’d already paid heed to them in my pre-existing fridge door wall pieces, and so the boxes won out this time round.

It’s perhaps worth pointing out, at this point – that these particular boxes are somewhat removed from their raw state.  Just as with the toy sculptures, the intention here was to create a sculptural artifact - rather than a pure Readymade.  Not only does each of the boxes contain a rigid inner structure - the surfaces have also been extensively modulated and ‘tidied up’ through the application of acrylic paint, French polish, packing tape and numerous litres of PVA. 

Naturally, as the title suggests, it’s pretty difficult to imagine a simple monolith form, particularly at this kind of scale - without perceiving in it, the human figure.  That’s one of the archetypes of sculpture, from prehistory to the present day, of course, and speaks of our inbuilt tendency towards an anthropomorphic gestalt - regardless of the degree of apparent abstraction at play.  I’ve rarely thought of the figure as my subject, and it certainly wasn’t my first intention when I began the ’TSI’ work, last year.  Nevertheless, there’s no point pretending it isn’t an undeniable association in these ‘Sentinel’ pieces, and I guess there is something pleasing about the idea of figures (or lives) constructed solely from the containers of consumable product.

The other important inescapable feature of this sculpture is its function as a carrier of text.  As with the textual content in the associated ‘Fridge’ series, the phrases stenciled onto ‘Sentinel 1’ are excerpts from my long-form piece, ‘BelowThe Line / Beneath Contempt’.  Although that is an extended text, with the conceit of a five-act structure, any narrative arc(s) it may hint at, is really little more than a happy accident - brought about by the juxtaposition of numerous Brexit-related, ‘Below the Line’ comments.  In fact, it’s really just an exercise in collaging, and thereby recontextualising found material.  This repeated recycling of and calling-back to, of both texts and motifs, seems to have become an increasing feature of my work in recent years.

In the light of that, extracting, and further reframing certain of its components for inclusion in the ‘Fridges’ and ‘Sentinels’, feels perfectly appropriate.  In fact, if these cardboard columns are to be read as figures - then perhaps the application of text onto them feels like an exercise in giving them a voice.  Sadly, as recent British history demonstrates, when a poorly educated populace of alienated consumers is presented with a stark, binary choice - and encouraged to express an uninformed (or misinformed) opinion, ‘the voice of the people’ may not be what one would hope to hear at all.  Democracy, eh?  What a palaver!

In this case, the two chosen phrases, ‘Bizzarre logic’ and ‘You’ve been given plenty- don’t pretend’, come from entirely separate sections of both the compiled ‘BTL/BC’ text, and the original debate that seeded it.  As ever, a cut and paste approach opens up the potential for further interpretation, or indeed – a whole new argument.  And, whilst I do know the correct spelling of 'Bizarre' - the combative on-line contributor, sadly, did not.

Completed Sculpture: 'This S(c)eptic Isle': 'Childish Things 3 (Misdirected)

All Images: 'Childish Things 3 (Misdirected)', Salvaged Sit-On Toy, Salvaged Cardboard Box,
MDF, Acrylics, Paper Collage, Adhesive Tape, Junk Mail & Discarded Gas Capsules,
 130 cm X 98 cm X 57 cm, 2018

Posts have been pretty sparse on here of late (for which apologies), as the hours devoted to my current body of ‘This S(c)eptic Isle’ work, grow ever longer.  I’m not really complaining though.  The blessed school holidays, and long days of what has turned in to a truly epic British Summer, have allowed me to get out in the yard and complete most of my proposed sculptures already.  This can only be a good thing - not least because it’s all destined for exhibition at Nottingham’s Surface Gallery, along with the work of Shaun Morris and Andrew Smith, in mid September.  That show will be entitled ‘Visions of a Free-Floating Island’, and I will, of course, relay the specific details as our preparations progress.

Anyway, here’s the third of the ‘Childish Things’ pieces, based on abandoned toys - titled, ‘Childish Things 3 (Misdirected)’.  Technically, this one follows the same pattern as its two predecessors, which you can read about here, and here.  It comprises the same combination of salvaged toy, cardboard box (with internal MDF carcass), paper collage, junk mail and gas capsules, and I’m sure you can pretty well deduce the construction methods just by viewing the pictures.

The red trike is perhaps the most pleasing toy so far, being essentially complete.  In fact, a first glance might lead you to ask why this one was discarded on the pavement at all (back axle issues - for what it’s worth).  You might also question to what degree I have actually intervened to further compromise its functionality - until you look again at the steering set up.  Just as with the other vehicles in the series – this trike is going nowhere fast (other than in futile circles).  The socio-political implications of that are for the viewer to decide, but I don’t think we’re in the subtlest realms of satire here really – are we?  Other questions which could arise in this case, might include…

• Given the trike’s inability to progress in a straight line, is it more likely to turn to the left or right?  If the only real possible course is in fact a circular one, does it really matter?  Under these circumstances, might not the outcome be ultimately the same - whichever way it turns?

• And given the impossibility of meaningful progress, what purpose does that push-handle serve.  It suggests some form of pressure might still be exerted from above.  If so - by who, and to what ends?  Is theirs a guiding hand or a driving force?

• Children expect to be impelled by their parents, but where exactly are they being directed?  Do the old really know the best way forward, and whose interests do they really have at heart?

• We’re all familiar with those glistening capsules of spent giggles, glistening in the gutters - but from whence do they originate?  Are they purchased legitimately, or do they exit premises through back doors and under counters?   Do they fall from the backs of vehicles, or become diverted in transit?  Who delivers them?  Is laughter really the best medicine?

• What wider narratives might be constructed from the endless slew of unsolicited mail injected into my home each day?  What clues does it offer about our collective hopes and dreams, and is there anything to be gained by pausing to actually read any of it on the short walk to the recycling bin?

• Seemingly, most of the correspondents just want to satisfy my imagined hunger for pizza and chicken, or coax me onto their exercise bikes, to undo the damaged thus caused.  But a few seem more concerned for my spiritual wellbeing, or eager to ignite my sense of injustice, or short-circuit my alienation politically?  Should I be grateful that they’ve reached out to me? - or even more fearful of their motives, than I am of those of the pizza chefs?  Should I worry that some even know where I live? - or that others covet my very home (and others like it in the area)?

Completed Sculpture: 'This S(c)eptic Isle' 'Childish Things 2 (Mistreated)'

All Images: 'Childish Things 2 (Mistreated)', Salvaged Toy, Spray Enamel, Salvaged
Cardboard Boxes, MDF, Acrylics, Paper Collage, Adhesive Tape, French Polish,
Salvaged Junk Mail, 58 cm x 91 cm x 61 cm, 2018

The summer recess is finally here, and with the long, uninterrupted days opening up before me (not to mention the spectacularly clement outdoor working conditions) – stuff’s suddenly starting to come together.

Here then, is the second of my newly completed ‘Childish Things’ sculptures (subtitled, ‘Mistreated’).  It follows the basic blueprint of the first, by combining a discarded sit-on toy with a supporting platform of cardboard boxes - the essential rationale of which is unchanged. However, this one’s designed as a floor-based piece, and intended to be looked down upon from above.

It will also be the slightly odd one out (of the four currently in production), in that the toy itself, being a rocking horse, is only nominally a vehicle - whilst the others all have (or had) wheels.  Indeed, whilst unmistakenly a resonant object, the lack of mechanical structure made any intervention suggestive of its practical dysfunction harder to envisage.  I considered various ways to tamper with what is essentially just a moulded plastic lump, until I realised that simply setting it at an angle was sufficient to suggest its expiry, and make it more formally satisfying to boot.  Recourse to an old cartoon shorthand  - in the form of painted crosses on the eyes, was sufficient to underline the idea that this horse has simply reached the end of the road and keeled over.

There’s little extra to tell from a formal/constructional point of view, other than to point out that the printed matter augmenting the supporting inclined platform is just a minute portion of the relentless avalanche of junk pushed through my letterbox (and diligently collected) during the few months these pieces have been in gestation.  Any messages, meanings or associations to be found therein are, as ever, for the viewer to decide upon.  For my own part (and bearing in mind my much-vaunted ‘State-of-the-Nation’ malarkey), a few possibly useful questions here might include…

• Just what, exactly is being flogged here (apart from a selection of highly-processed food products, of course)?

• Are we really all knackered, once and for all, this time?

• Has anyone been secretly hoping for a champion to ride in on a white mount, and recue us all in our hour of need?  Anyone got a plan B?

• What (if anything) is the significance of horses in the British psyche?  Is there anything special about the white ones?

• Clearly, this horse is going nowhere – but was it ever?  Signs are - it was only ever really capable of oscillating back and forth in unstable(d) vacillation.

• Was it ridden to death, or simply put out of its misery?

• Has anyone bolted the stable door – even now?

• What would be the chances of sorting out a few of those mixed messages –before shoveling them onto my doormat?

• Who is going to sort out my funeral?  Also – is it really admissible for such a significant but over-generalised theme as ‘Death’ to just emerge, purely by chance, this late in a project or individual work’s development?

• Need cash quick?