Completed Painting: '[dc]circuit 03/Proust'

 

'[dc]circuit 03/Proust', Acrylics, Paper Collage & Mixed Media on Panel,
600 mm x 400 mm, 2026

Here is the third panel in my set of five '[dc]circuit' panels, the full title being, '[dc]circuit 03/Proust'. In this case the literary reference is to Marcel Proust's magnum opus, 'À la Recherche Du Temps Perdu' - in particular, the second volume (of seven), 'A l'Ombre des Jeunes Filles en Fleure' [1.]. Continuing in the same stylistic mode as '[dc]circuit 01' and '[dc]circuit 02', the rhizomorphically reconfigured cartography here relates to Paris and Proust's fictional resort of Balbec (in reality, Cabourg in Normandy), as well as to my own immediate environment in Leicester. A key element of Proust's novel is his (unreliable) memories of youthful seaside holidays, of illusions inspired by travel in general, and of the emotional impact of rail travel, in particular. It is therefore no coincidence that cartographical references to Parisian railway terminals, the Grand Hotel and Casino in Cabourg, and Leicester's long-since repurposed Great Central Railway Station are all visible in this piece.

The elusive philosophical relationship between space and time are key concerns in all of this 'Deleuzian Cartography' work of mine, just as they are in Proust's writing. It's also fair to say that this panel is just as powerfully influenced by the philosophical modelling of time outlined by  Proust's contemporary, Henri Bergson, as it is by the complex ideas of Gilles Deleuze himself. Bergson's ideas prefigure Deleuze in several respects, and he also offered a subjective/metaphysical account of time as an alternative to the strict Relativity of Einstein's since-dominant model. My own humble intention is not to necessarily take sides with any of these super-brains (or even to claim full understanding of their ideas) but rather, to take delight in the push and pull of their various interpretations/explanations of 'Existence', as they play out in the overlapping arenas of Art, Science and Philosophy. If, as the LED circuit motifs recurring throughout these paintings suggest, a modicum of enlightenment is available, it is still hard-won. Nevertheless, the questions are always far more interesting than the answers, so why not start with the 'easy' ones? 

Of course, it's impossible to think about Proust (or Bergson), without reference to the nature of memory, and how we continually use it to reprocess our experiences within our perceptions in the present. The subjectivity and corruption of our memories have long been noted by numerous writers, thinkers and brain-scientists, and seem, if anything, even more pertinent in an age when increasing amounts of our thinking and remembering are contracted-out to machines. The visual hint toward corrupted pixellation, and gigabyte labelling in this piece are included as nods to this.

As already mentioned, there's yet another strand of possible meaning layered into the colours used in this '[dc]circuit' suite. Superficially, the yellow chosen here seemed a perfect accompaniment to the summery vibes of Proust's reflections en vacances, but is also emblematic of the third reactive stage identified by many of the historical practitioners of Alchemy, in their attempts to manufacture physical gold and/or spiritual enlightenment. This is also true of the black and (nominal) white of the two previous panels. You may be already despairing at my eagerness to overload these paintings with yet more pretentious thematic freight, and the tradition of Alchemy is certainly a complex subject to be casually tossing-in (and one with numerous potential interpretations of its own). However, the relationship between hard science and subjective philosophy do appear to be of clear relevance again here. It's also worth noting that all of my current work seems to come about as much as a result of the books I happen to read during my regular coffee-fuelled local perambulations, as from the spaces I physically inhabit whilst on them. During the gestation of these pieces, this included a history of Prague (an alchemical hot-spot) amongst all the other posh literature and baffling French philosophy. This organic, often random or impulsive, drip-feed of information, and the tangle of mental correspondences it inspires, seems very much in the Deleuzian spirit of energy flows, lines of flight and immanent production - to me, at least. Anyway, I'll try to offer a few more clues about this alchemy business in my next related post...

[1.]: Marcel Proust, 'In Search of Lost Time', Vol 1 'In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower' (Trans. James Grieve), London/NYC, Penguin, 1919/2003

Completed Painting: '[dc]circuit 02/Borges'

'[dc]circuit 02/Borges', Acrylics, Mixed Media & Paper Collage on Panel,
600 mm x 600 mm, 2026

Here's the second in my set of five '[dc]circuit' panels. This one is '[dc]circuit 02/Borges' - offering, as it does, some kind of tribute to the literature of Argentinian author, Jorge Luis Borges. Here the circuit diagram motif, which overlays all five of the '[dc]circuits', becomes entangled with elements of maze-like geometry, which itself emerges from the underlying reconstructed cartography that anchors the set.  Further overarching insights can be gleaned from my post about '[dc]circuit 01'.

Labyrinths are, of course, a recurring motif in the short stories of Borges - not least in 'The  Garden of Forking Paths' [1.], as referenced in thematically consistent Chinese characters here. Indeed, mazes seem to characterise the intellectual convolutions of his fiction perfectly, with its tendency to fold back into itself in preference to supplying any straightforward narrative conclusions. More directly, they are also analogous to the self-contained (and possibly confounding) complexity of the urban environment. Here, along with references to my own familiar terrain in Leicester, the underlying cartography also relates to Buenes Aires and Geneva - the two cities most closely tied to the author's life.

Clearly, the square format used for this panel differs from the rectangular proportions of its predecessor.  Whilst dimensions often correspond across the set, it was never my intention to blindly repeat the same panel format - or even to envisage each piece simply hanging in a level row. In fact, the final arrangement of the set, were they to be exhibited, is one major issue that remains to be settled. In the absence of a convenient empty wall of sufficient size readily to hand, I imagine I'll need to shuffle around some photographic versions - printed at scale, to decide on that. It's quite possible that various alternative arrangements might suggest themselves, rather than a single definitive hang, but there's only one way to find out...

[1.]: Jorge Luis Borges, 'The Garden of Forking Paths', in 'Fictions' (Trans. Andrew Hurley), London/NYC, Penguin, 1941/2000

[Compuesto sin A.I.]

Completed Painting: '[dc]circuit 01/Sartre'

 

'[dc]circuit 01/Sartre', Acrylics, Mixed Media & Paper Collage on Panel,
600 mm x 400 mm, 2026

For some months, I've been working simultaneously on five panels, designed to be viewed together as a set. All five are now finished to the same level, so it's finally time to go public with them. Here's the first, entitled, '[dc]circuit 01/Sartre.' I'll admit that's a fairly arch title (and possibly a rip-off of the kind of labelling Aphex Twin might employ), but it does offer some clues about what's going on here.

In general aesthetic and overall methodology, these five clearly belong with the other 'Deleuzian Cartography' pieces I've produced in recent times. Hence the initial '[dc]' identifier. In fact they grew out of the 'Deleuzian Cartography 6' panel I completed last summer, with each of the electrical lighting circuit diagrams collected in that piece acting individually as a dominant motif here each time. 'circuit 01 - 05' thus becomes the sub-series identifier for these five panels.

The alternative appelation, '/Sartre', relates to the fact that each of these pieces also alludes to an individual author and/or philosopher of importance to me. All were prominent on my personal reading list duringb the period when these paintings were in progress. Some years back, I produced a series of map-based paintings in which cartographic fragments combined with found texts to signify my physical and mental journeys around my local patch, here in Leicester. Those pieces featured in an exhibition titled 'Mental Mapping' which I shared with Andrew Smith. That title (suggested by Andrew) seemed to describe what I was trying to do very well, and in reality, it still does. My hope is that these more recent cartographic mash-ups are a little more sophisticated in certain ways (albeit, somewhat more restrained), but it's definitely the case that I'm still trying to construct a form of subverted cartography, in synthesis with multiple over-codings of potential meanings/narrative. It seems that the found texts I harvested from the physical environment back then are now replaced by the literary texts I routinely carry around with me these days (usually in anticipation of yet another coffee stop). 

Much of the territory I'm obsessively dismantling and reassembling still relates to my local environment, but buried in there are also maps of various locations significant to the five featured writers. As this first one pays homage to Jean-Paul Sartre, the terrain of Leicester's 'everyday' zones become entangled with the street maps of Saint Germain (his intellectual H.Q.) and Le Harvre (as reimagined in his philosophical novel 'Nausea' [1.]). 

As far as the circuits themselves are concerned, beyond their obvious geometric/emblematic appeal, they're pretty straightforward signifiers for the various energy flows constituting any urban environment. As such, they could be said to chart the city, just as the maps do. However, given that each diagram relates to a specific LED lighting circuit, perhaps they also hint that all  those slightly dog-eared and ring-stained paperbacks are probably the nearest I'll ever get to anything resembling genuine illumination. 

There is one other point of note with these five panels, relating to the identifying colours used each time. However, I'll save that insight until the others have revealed themselves. For now, let's just say that the Sartre-related panel was always going to be done in existentialist black(ish), wasn't it?

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

Sans A.1.

Eviction Exhibition [re_configure / trans_late]

 

All Images: Knightsbridge, London, December 2025

[Translated and Reconfigured Appropriated Texts]

This typically upscale residential neighbourhood attracts families from all over the world. I had never heard of it before, and the area was completely unfamiliar to me. Daytime admission is inexpensive and affordable for everyone. In fact, many people come to visit the exhibition - often more than once. Unfortunately, the exhibition space is incredibly chaotic. Some tenants are making long journeys on their days off to visit, which can cause serious problems - leading to lost rent [potentially threatening landlords' livelihoods]. The plates remind me of children's birthday parties, and the cups are cheap and ugly. Investors who bought rental properties in the area this year have earned an average gross return of 5.5%, as tenants come in person to inquire about issues that would normally be resolved over the phone. [A good way to force them to move out is to issue an eviction notice.] There's a ‘number machine’ that can calculate huge sums of money, and a rather unusual umbrella being used as a weapon. Call centre staff are reportedly now answering calls and witnessing the chaos first hand. It might sound exaggerated, but I can assure you - it's true.

The building's facade and courtyard are simply stunning, but unfortunately, due to the weather, the city council couldn't fully appreciate their magnificence. However, the delegation was able to install massive columns and crosses in several other houses. To prevent further deterioration, the council announced it would commission an artist to create a sculpture [a plaster replica] of the facade, during the ‘isolation, stabilisation, digitisation, and recording’ phase. I had a simple question about their new museum, so I contacted them via email and was told that, before making any decisions, the Finance Director would be consulted according to Article 151 [it was truly shocking to see their extravagant lifestyle at the time]. Other countries were also invited to showcase their innovations and accordingly, the floors were closed earlier than usual. Don’t mention that, If your investment property has a mortgage, you'll be in arrears on payments. Despite having 100,000 items for sale, ranging from steam engines and giant machines to cutting-edge scientific instruments and ingenious technological innovations, this was still the case here. Countless lavish exhibits were intended to impress, but ultimately, they were disappointing. 

I resent the emails. Payment deadlines are worrying, and you have to constantly watch out for annoying visitors who will look around and bother others to get the ‘perfect photo’. Inspecting everything would probably take a whole day. Subletting is a pressing issue and, in fact, we don't have £108 million and need to raise that money first. I suggest starting with a thorough investigation, focusing on antiques [such as silk, porcelain, textiles, precious Chinese ivory, Cossack armour, and Russian malachite ceramics], and then seeing what else can be done. The house repair and homelessness assistance team noticed a decrease in calls for help, and pessimism quickly turned to enthusiasm after someone explained the concept of self-financing to the management. All the hydraulic presses were scheduled to be operational before summer, so I called to inquire, and they confirmed they had received and would reply to my communication. I still haven't received any response.

No A.I. used [for better or worse]

Christopher Wool at Gagosian, Grovenor Hill, London / Happy New Year

All Images: Christopher Wool, Gagosian, Grovenor Hill, London December 2025

Over a number of years, New Year's celebrations tended to pass me by somewhat. I had developed the small personal tradition of seeing in the new year in reflective mood, ideally with a paintbrush and a glass of something in hand. Last year broke that trend, and it seems that this year, I will again be out and about in company as the calendar clicks over. So, instead of self-indulgently ruminating on my own 'progress' or aspirations, I'll make this last post of 2025 a  celebration of my last exhibition experience of the year. As it transpires, Christopher Wool's recent show of works on paper and related sculptures turned out to be one of the most uplifting things I've seen in a long time.

I've long been a big fan of Wool's work, across the span of his career - from the early repeat patterns and painted texts, through the more painterly mid-period smears and stains, and into the ever-evolving tangles and movements towards 3D of his current 'grand old man' years. I find visual and intellectual nourishment in it all, to be honest, and consider him amongst the most engaging of those artists who prolong the relevance of centuries-old media, even as they are  pushed back and forth through the reproduction and translation technologies of the mechanical/digital era. That productive tension between analogue and the technologically mediated realms, and between the improvisational 'in the moment' experience, and the fixed but  infinitely tradable 'memory', continue to be key preoccupations in my own work.

However, beyond any of that (and above all), the show at Gagosian turned out to be a sheer sensory delight. Be it in the form of paper-based wall pieces, or mechanically-enlarged found wire tangles, Wool's language of scribbles, smears, stains, painterly gestures, printer's dots and occasional text fragments just went on mining limitless variation - often from the simplest of sources. Complexity out of minimal origins, calligraphic spontaneity, the tactility of fluid media, the chance effects of layering, the sheer delight of one thing partially glimpsed through the matrix of another, a determination to wring the maximum potential from the humblest or  disregarded gifts the world can offer - all these things (and more) are in full effect in his work, it appears.

The show in London was actually a relatively modest variation on a larger exhibit, entitled 'See, Stop Run', which Wool installed in a disused and dilapidated New York office space in 2024. The remainder of this cycle of work has found a longer-term home in Marfa, Texas, apparently. As the stunning publication from the  Manhattan show attests, the dialogue between work and context, and the material, visual and textural effects thereby generated, must have been endlessly stimulating. Urban resonances? - I should say so! That show immediately joins the list of 'things I wish I'd seen', but regrets will get us nowhere (and the prospect of a journey into the Trumpian hellscape doesn't really appeal, for obvious reasons). As it was, the stripped-down, pure-white cubicle version of Wool on offer in London, still provided an experience that continued to excite, even after a couple of hours of intensive immersion. It was only eye strain, aching legs and the need to find a publicly-accessible toilet (come on, Gagosian - surely that's not too much to ask!), that eventually dragged me away. 

Incredibly, even this opportunity might have easily passed me by. Having already been down in London for some other exhibitions a few weeks previously, it was purely by chance that I'd retrospectively noticed Wool was on show just a few hundred metres from where I'd been that day. For all of Gagosian's status within the high-end international art world, its Grovenor Hill site just isn't a location you walk past by chance, it seems. Knowing that opportunities to see a collection of his work over here don't come around too often, I hastily cleared another Saturday in the diary, organised more coach tickets, and braved torrential rain (and a few other logistical complications) to make it there before the show ended, just prior to the descent into full-on Christmapalypse. Regrets? - I'm sure the eulogy above will tell you I have none.

It's gratifying to be able to end the year with a report of something genuinely uplifting, even as it sneaked-in under the wire of 2025. Indeed, this wasn't just a cultural high water mark of my year, but one of the most memorable of the last decade. It's just a shame I can't use this slightly-delayed post as a prompt for others to also visit, but perhaps my photos can offer some pale impression of what I enjoyed. 

On that note: Happy New Year, one and all. Clearly, the good stuff's still out there, if we look hard enough.

Still composed [shamelessly] without A.I., in 2025.