Unboxing 3: Dangerous Goods Manifest

 

Leicester, December 2020

There's probably a limit to how many of these workplace-derived 'Unboxing' posts I can belabour you with - at least without a bit of creative manipulation of the source imagery.  Nevertheless, I remain deeply attracted to the honest simplicity and truth-to-materials of the honest brown cardboard box, and to the emblematic symbology and potentially allusive texts which adhere to them.  These particular examples were especially 'thrilling' as (unusually), they contained a potentially hazardous chemical, and demonstrate the double-boxing, stern, graphic warnings, and 'Dangerous Goods Manifest' attendant on such a deadly cargo.  For the record, the product in question was a single bottle of Isopropanol - hardly plutonium, but at least: no couriers were harmed in the making of this blog post.

As soon as I have unpacked such consignments, the boxes generally get casually stacked in the corner of the classroom - awaiting recycling.  Even at this scale - with only two elements of modest scale, a distinctly totemic quality begins to emerge.  Indeed, I'm reminded that this is exactly how the format of 2018's 'Sentinel' sculptures originated - almost by accident.

'Sentinel' Sculptures, 'Visions of a Free-Floating Island', Surface Gallery, Nottingham,
September 2018

Perhaps there may be some tentative connection between those pieces, and the spate of mysteriously emerging monoliths, at various international locations, a couple of weeks back.  The reporting of those (beginning with what may have been some kind of oblique art-prank in remotest Utah) appears to have dwindled already.  That makes me think the whole thing was little more than an online meme that failed to really catch hold - particularly as the vaguely unworldly examples at a handful of locations, were joined by reports of a puerile, and far-too-representational, phallic example in Germany.  I suspect we'll soon file the memory of 2020's monoliths away with crop circles, and the like (if we remember them at all).  It does emphasise the enduring fascination of totemic, columnar forms, in the human imagination, nonetheless.

Meanwhile, the primordial urge to stack up cardboard boxes; well, that's something altogether more profound - clearly.

'Visions Of A Free-Floating Island': Under Review

What the heck - if I'm hoping to be a bit more 'strategic' in my thinking, and to take more advantage of potentially beneficial stuff whenever it arises - then why not actually just put this up on here?  Milking it? - I should cocoa...

Art Review: Visions of a Free-Floating Island at Surface Gallery

3 October 18

words: Adrian Shaw

https://www.leftlion.co.uk

This cracking exhibition at SurfaceGallery showcased new work from Hugh Marwood, Andrew Smith and Shaun Morris; their art reflecting many of the ideological and psychological challenges facing the UK post-Brexit. Our writer Adrian Shaw popped in to have a look and tell us all abaht it...

Hugh Marwood, 'Fridge 1' (Photo: Adrian Shaw)

‘There are conversations going on between the artworks’ raising fresh points which we become aware of...’ (Artists’ Talk comment, Hugh Marwood, et al)

This exhibition is the collective view of the three artists exhibiting their latest work at this really stimulating and fresh-looking show, which examines the condition of our post-Brexit island. The trio of artists have been working together since 2012 and, although there are differences in their individual approaches, they have a lot in common as artists, and have a cohesiveness in the presentation of individual viewpoints and experiences.

This was a very British show; it personally appealed to me as an artist looking at both inner and outer spaces. The personal and political were allowed space and opportunity to speak and exchange their views. The post-Brexit negativity that we see in our daily lives, the personal fury in public debates between the two sides of the nation and the negativity against wider ideals does, at least, have the benefit of producing great art such as the works presented in this gallery. Although the politics were Left-leaning, the efforts of all three artists also spoke of working-out the personal and psychological perspectives of wider political experiences and well-being, which one feels is increasingly needful today.

After a thorough examination of the work on show, we, the punters, were privileged on the penultimate Saturday afternoon, to hear the artists talk and partake in discussions on ideas indicated, and added to, on our exposure to their efforts.

The first artist, Hugh Marwood, had a downstairs, 2-D wall-based exhibition known as the ‘Flagging’ series where he takes the Union Flag as a base, and then adds a montage-collagist overlying finish involving text and colourful, seemingly random mark-making. One thinks of Jasper Johns’ work here and a kind of “post-postmodern” art. Upstairs, Marwood’s work was a mixture of two and three dimensional art – with abandoned fridge doors being the substrates for a montage of colourful plastic-lettered text. His ‘Childish Things’ series used found plastic toys, kiddy vehicles, cars, scooters, and a rocking-horse mounted on empty cardboard boxes; the boxes themselves utilised in his ‘Sentinel’ series alongside.

Andrew Smith, 'Standard' (Photo: Adrian Shaw)

His other body of work, ‘The Assembly’ series, utilised found cardboard boxes. On these, 3-D works were scattered on small, bullet-like, empty silver gas propellant canisters. The abandoned toy-cars then hinted at lives of promise and youth misspent into empty adulthood. The Talking Heads song ‘Road to Nowhere’ came to mind here. This sense of emptying-out and abandonment was very evident, including from the works by the other two members of the trio.

Shaun Morris, the second artist, paints with a Zurbaran-inspired loose brushwork to create haunting, darkly shaded oil paintings. Much of his exhibition consisted of abandoned vehicles, many of which are vans - to hold lurking police or criminals, or even terrorists, perhaps. He is also drawn to images of consumerist waste-dumping in the street, with boxes and other ‘containers’ emptied and abandoned. His paintings make a major contribution to the show: images are often viewed at strange angles, imbued with significant critical meaning, depicting the sheer absurdity of consumerism.

The absurd was much-exemplified by all three artists, but especially Andrew Smith who explores the therapeutic or psychoanalytic perspective. Downstairs, the eclectic nature of his work included assemblages about the dis-empowered and emasculated male - with ‘stand-in’ objects such as broken electronic organ keyboard, pink giant stockings, a plastic ‘phallus’ and pink knickers with a mournful puppy pattern and a beheaded ‘King Penguin’. His work was very varied, and included coloured pencil-drawn and acrylic brick wall where both ‘controlling balance’ and ‘unbalance’ mental-states were hinted at. He also indicated the wandering colonial with a book cover: ‘Letters from China’. This artist was also the source of the artwork Visions of a Free-Floating Island’, which gave its name to the Exhibition.

Whether it be through techniques or themes, the artworks were in conversation or in exchange of ideas with one another. The art and the artists themselves depicted cohesiveness and co-operation in the face of national disunity.

'Visions Of A Free-Floating Island': Settling Dust

'Childish Things 3 (Misdirected)': 'Visions Of A Free-Floating Island', Surface Gallery, Nottingham
(Upstairs), September 2018

It’s well over a week since Andrew Smith, Shaun Morris and I removed our joint, ‘Visions Of A Free-Floating Island’ exhibition, from Nottingham’s Surface Gallery.  Months of hard graft and necessary admin, resulted in two weeks of public exposure – which, predictably, seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.  It brings in its aftermath, an equally inevitable sensation of mild anti-climax, and perhaps a few questions about what might (or might not) have been achieved.  There is even the temptation - in moments of enhanced self-doubt, to question why we put ourselves through the process at all, or whether anyone else even notices much.  Were you of a mind to, you  might regard our attempts to reach out into the public arena as a bit of a labour intensive vanity project, whose material benefits are often few and far between.

'Childish Things 4 (Mistaken)', With 'Sentinels 2 & 5': 'VOAFFI' (Upstairs)

At such times, I find it important to refer back to the creative impulse that lies at the core of our activities, and which, long ago - I personally decided is self-justifying enough to require little further explanation (to myself, at least).  I tried not producing my own work for years, and categorically proved that not doing feels worse than at least trying.  If the production of artwork (and its potential therapeutic spin-offs) are a given, that just leaves the bald choice between maintaining a purely onanistic stance - in which work accumulates, unseen, behind one’s own walls; and periodically punting it out into the world – in the hope it might, on a good day, constitute some form of communication or expression.  For all the expense and graft involved in organising and mounting exhibitions (and the subsequent quandaries outlined above) - the second option still feels like the more grown-up one.  It even occurs to me that the first course is more likely to lead to a knock on the door from Environmental Health, or to headlines such as “Lonely Recluse Dies Under Avalanche Of Own Paintings”.  Ultimately, it’s about confidence, and about how seriously you take your own practice, I think.  It seems impossible to ask others to take it seriously if you’re not prepared to stand beside it yourself.

Shaun Morris, 'Salute', Oil On Canvas, 2018, 'VOAFFI' (Downstairs)

Shaun Morris, (L.): 'The Street (Empty Boxes)', (R.): 'The Street (Empty Boxes) 2',
Both Oil On Canvas, 2017-18: 'VOAFFI' (Upstairs)

Shaun Morris, 'The Street (The Digger)', Oil On Canvas, 2018: 'VOAFFI' (Upstairs)

As Andrew, Shaun and I shared a post-exhibition pint, we also agreed that, regardless of how much or how little public attention one’s work might garner, (and how elitist the admission may sound), the opinion, and possibly respect, of other practitioners is actually pretty important to all of us.  That’s despite the fact that it’s all too easy to luxuriate in the ivory Art palace – or perhaps exactly because, contemporary art is really little more than just a weird hobby carried out by deluded eccentrics, in the view of many.  Even worse is the oft-heard view that it’s merely a cynical ruse to hoodwink or patronise the ‘hoi-poloi’.  Exhibiting should, ideally, aspire to break down those barriers, of course - but no one’s really pretending we’ll be able to transcend generations of educational shortcomings, societal expectations and cultural ghettoisation, over two weeks in another Midland town - are they?

Andrew Smith, 'Untitled (Hard)', Acrylics & Digital Print On Canvas, 2012: 'VOAFFI'
 (Downstairs)

Andrew Smith, 'Lead Balloons', Pencil & Fibre Pen/Digital Print On Paper, 2018:
'VOAFFI' (Upstairs)

What those who claim to be excluded by an elitist art world overlook, is that many artists themselves feel pretty marginalised by mainstream society, most of the time.  It may be a pretty blunt measure – but you really only need calculate the total audiences for, and broadcast hours devoted to, football, dating, gambling, or other ‘mainstream’ interests - compared with those pertaining to any form of serious arts programming.  It’s not actually so difficult to work out who’s really being culturally excluded these days, in the mainstream media, at least.  Ironically, as more or less good old-fashioned ‘lefties’, the three of us probably must accept ‘the democratic will of the people’ to choose, in such matters (honestly – don’t get me started…).  In which case, one is inevitably pushed back onto the hope there might at least be some connection to be made with the minority of folk who still actually value or ‘get it’.

Works By Andrew Smith & Shaun Morris, 'VOAFFI' (Downstairs)

That may also explain why, as we’ve also remarked amongst ourselves, so many younger contemporary artists often appear happy to self-curate distinctly inward-looking art events nowadays - seemingly tailored just for ‘us and our friends’.  Perhaps artists of our generation would actually do well to remember that we live in an online world where, perhaps, mass outreach is no longer even really the point.  Getting one’s work seen is probably now more about the nurtured audience, the targeted response, and the savvy marketing strategy, as it is about just putting it on the walls and opening the doors.

Andrew Smith, 'Untitled (Therapy)', Coloured Pencil/Digital Print On Paper, 2018,
'VOAFFI' (Downstairs)

Andrew Smith, 'Portrait Of The Artist As Two Dogs (Big And Small)', 2018,
Fibre Pen/Digital Print On Paper, 2018: 'VOAFFI' (Downstairs)

If this all sounds like a bit of a counsel of despair, it’s really not supposed to.  Perhaps it’s just a kind of wake-up call to do with properly clarifying one’s true motives, and aspirations.  Perhaps it's actually about being a little more ‘strategic’ about it things (however much I might dislike the general implications of that word).  In fact, we, and Surface did manage to cover several of those bases outlined above, and I think we all felt positive about most of the work itself in ‘VOAFFI’, and maybe even more so about the show as a whole.  The proviso is that it was also our most ambitious joint venture to date – and thus, with magnified implications to match, perhaps.  As I intimated in my last post, the sheer effort of realising it was pretty full-on - taking us all close to the limits of our physical capabilities and collective  ability to manage time and competing commitments.  Perhaps it’s that which really provokes all this questioning about exactly what we might hope to get back in return.  Could it just be that, after so much graft, the ego petulantly feels like it's due even more payback?

(Top L.): Shaun Morris, 'Trousers', 2018, (Bottom L.): Shaun Morris, 'A Home In England', 2017,
(R.): Andrew Smith, 'Wall Poem (Redacted)', Digital Print (Two Parts), 2018: 'VOAFFI' (Downstairs)

Clearly, that’s not quantifiable in terms of sales (although they weren’t totally absent, in the end).  But, in fairness, none of us could exactly be accused of chasing the easy sales or of deliberately tailoring our work to that end.  And I’m conscious there’s always a tendency for independently minded artists like us to want our cake, and to eat it (again – don’t get me started).   So perhaps it really is more about a craving for recognition, in that case.  And, encouragingly, the general response from attendees of our Opening Event and Artist Talk was encouragingly positive.  That’s worth a lot - particularly when in-depth conversations about the subtleties of the work replace mere polite chit-chat - as they did in many cases, on both occasions.  Even more tangible, in terms of positive opinion, is a subsequent review, in Nottingham’s estimable ‘Left Lion’ listings magazine - penned by Adrian Shaw.  Adrian was one of the small gathering who attended our Artist Talk, and who took the trouble to talk to us at some length about our work.  I won’t pretend I’m not more than a little gratified by the results, which you can read here.

'Sentinels 1 & 3': 'VOAFFI' (Upstairs)

That was one of three in-depth conversations I had with completely unfamiliar faces over the two events (the other two being with fellow practicing artists).  Each, in its own way, seemed to prove my earlier point about the value of connecting with one’s peers, or those with at least an already partially open mind.  In fact, my own experience of exhibiting is still relatively slight, and this was the first time I’d either conducted a public discussion of my work, or indeed, been reviewed.  The genuine connections made or communication achieved, which they seem to represent - are probably the most significant take-home ‘achievements’ of the whole project, for me.  And, if we must remember to think more calculatingly about all this stuff –the profile-raising value of a favourable review probably shouldn’t be ignored (obviously – you can ask me again, should I ever receive a bad one).

'Sentinel 1': 'VOAFFI' (Upstairs)

I had originally intended this post to be more of an in-depth reflection on the actual content of the show – rather than a self-indulgent meditation on ‘the point of it all’, but to do that here would clearly create a piece of ludicrous proportions.  In fact, the necessity may be negated by both Adrian’s review, and also by referring you to another blog piece – this time posted by Shaun Morris himself.  This goes back again to that point about connecting with fellow practitioners – and in his case - that is actually what instigated all this recurring joint exhibiting in the first place.  As we’ve repeatedly recognised, it’s the common threads and implied conversations (both conscious and unpredicted) – between three quite distinct bodies of work, which has provided much of the impetus behind these periodic comings together.  I know Shaun doesn’t always have an excess of confidence in his literary abilities, but whatever he does write always feels refreshingly from-the-heart, to me.  Either way, his extended post - penned shortly before our show came down, feels like an apt enough reflection of the whole venture.  If it also seems to reflect the odd doubt, of his own – well, we’re clearly all as bad as each other - aren’t we?  Shaun’s piece does cover many of the points I might have made myself, so I’ll resist the temptation to bore on interminably myself - and instead, refer you to him…

I think you’ve saved me a job there, Shaun.

Completed Sculpture: 'This S(c)eptic Isle': 'Childish Things 4 (Mistaken)'

'Childish Things 4 (Mistaken)', Salvaged Trundle Toy, Salvaged Cardboard Boxes,  Spray Enamel,
Acrylics, Paper Collage, Official Notifications, Gas Capsules, Adhesive Tape & French Polish,
90 cm X 81 cm X 57 cm, 2018

Amongst all the stacking of cardboard boxes to create my ‘Sentinel’ sculptures, over summer – I also found time to put together the fourth of my ‘Childish Things’.

‘Childish Things 4 (Mistaken)’ had lagged a bit behind its fellows, largely because of the time it took to prep. and achieve anything like a presentable paint finish on its scuffed plastic bodywork.  Anyway, I got there in the end, and it was indicative of the serendipity characterising this whole phase of work, that - just when I needed it, I found a sturdy box large enough to support that white lump, whilst also balancing it well, visually.  In fact, there were actually two of them – the other providing a plinth for ‘Childish Things 3’.

I don’t buy the idea of a sentient ‘Universe’, but if such a thing were presiding over our affairs, it would seem to have mostly smiled on this first concerted foray into sculpture over recent months.  As a mostly two-dimensional artist (to date), it’s easy to overlook how much of a sculptor’s [1.] time is spent sourcing materials, solving constructional/technical issues, fighting the laws of physics, and just plain laboring.  I think I can regard myself as fortunate that, while making these pieces, most things fell into place fairly easily, without too many practical frustrations.  I actually got some kind of result with each of the sculptures I set out to make this year - which definitely feels like a reason to be cheerful.  I’ll let others decide how artistically successful I’ve been (or if indeed, it was at all worth it).

As before, there are various questions one might ask, in an attempt to interrogate ‘4’ for possible meanings or interpretations.  Of course, they are really for the viewer to ask, but some that occur to me might include…

• As with the other ‘Childish Things’, this vehicle is clearly going nowhere fast.  Does its parlous state indicate that the wheels really are dropping off?

• And, if that is true – might it be the fault of rough terrain and treacherous conditions, or is it down to neglect or faulty manufacture?

• Perhaps even more dispiritingly – could it have been deliberately sabotaged?

• The jolly yellow triangles and plasticised notifications, borne by untaxed vehicles are a common sight in many streets nowadays.  Must we assume this is another?  If so – was it laid-up as a result, or penalised for a SORN infringement?  At what stage in that process was the missing wheel removed?

• What might this say about our nation’s ability and willingness to fund its public services and infrastructure through tax-raising?  Is there a correlation between the rutted, pot-holed tarmac that threatens everyone’s suspension, and the number of untaxed vehicles beside the pavement?

• Are those tax-averse motorists waging some misguided, Clarksonite fight for personal ‘freedom’, on political/philosophical grounds, or just selfishly trying to duck out of paying their communal dues?  Alternatively – are they simply reliant on a vehicle to commute to a job that doesn’t pay enough to cover the running costs?

• If it’s an offence to remove an Untaxed Vehicle notification – is there a penalty for salvaging already-detached ones from the gutter, to apply to a sculpture?

As I post this, ‘Childish Things 4’ (along with its fellows, and accompanying ‘Sentinels’), is already wrapped, in advance of exhibition.  Shaun Morris, Andrew Smith and I will be installing our show, ‘Visions Of A Free-Floating Island’, at Surface Gallery, Nottingham in a week’s time - ready for our Opening Event on Friday 14 September.  We’ll be up for two weeks, including three Saturdays, so, if you’re in the Nottingham area, and want to see what all the fuss is about or yourself – you know what to do… 

[1.]:  Let's face it - 'Sculpture' is a bit grand a descriptor for what I'm doing here, really - isn't it?  I guess, if anything - I'm acting as an assembler ('Assemblist'?) really.  Do any of these distinctions even matter any more?