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| '[dc]Underfall 01', Acrylics, Paper Collage & Mixed Media on Panel, 300 mm x 300 mm, 2026 |
Having indulged in a relatively rapid painterly critique of the ongoing Iran war debacle, I felt inclined to do something a little less despairing of human psychosis. Hence, the little painting shown here - entitled ‘[dc]Underfall 01’. It clearly fits into the ‘Deleuzian Cartography’ oeuvre, being heavily map-derived, as well as fluid in its attitude to spatial or temporal structure, There’s even a fairly route-one deteritorialising smear placed front and centre. This time, however, I abandoned reference to specific texts or current events, and just made ‘place’ the overriding theme.
In terms of locational reference, the painting overlays map references to my immediate surroundings in Leicester, and Bristol’s equally familiar (to me) harbour entrance/Cumberland Basin/Underfall Yard/River Avon New Cut complex. This zone has featured regularly here in recent years, due to it being the focus of my ongoing ‘The Basin’ project, and ground-zero for my regular trips to that city. What is new, however, is a reference to that region in an actual painting. To date, all ‘Basin’-related material has been photographic, video-based or literary. Without any conscious plan, I suppose this spontaneous little panel (produced after my most recent Bristol trip, a couple of months back) may therefore suggest some move to unify the ‘Deleuzian Cartography’ and ‘The Basin’ work. Of course, I appreciate that such compartmentalising probably feels more significant to me than anyone else, and this piece certainly emerged with little or no prior strategising, either way. All this stuff is really just arepeated attempt to construct narratives in response to the places I find myself in, whatever medium I employ, or label I apply.
The title here relates to Underfall Yard, specifically - a feature of Bristol’s floating harbour that sits adjacent to Cumberland Basin. If the Harbour entrance and associated locks represent the mouth of the old docks, then the Basin itself might represent a gullet through which the water and shipping must pass in a controlled manner, to reach the city docks beyond. In this analogy, Underfall Yard could be seen as the first stage of digestion, given its primary function as a mechanism for processing at least some of the clogging sediment that has always been the curse of Bristol’s maritime traffic. Initially conceived as an ‘overfall’ feature, by which silt-bearing water might flow over a sluice, its operation was subsequently inverted for greater efficiency. This being Bristol, I.K Brunel generally gets all the credit here, although, the truth is that many other eminent engineers were involved in the developing the Yard’s infrastructure, as is true in many other cases routinely attributed to the man in the big hat. And Underfall itself makes up part of a larger mechanised picture in this part of the Victorian harbour with various complex pumping and hydraulic-control systems being operated from here, and from the Pumphouse, opposite. Nowadays, the Underfall Yard houses various maritime businesses (with associated moorings) alongside a cafe/heritage centre, and forms a larger complex with the adjoining Harbour Master’s headquarters. It also forms an entry point to the southern dockside walk.
The name is straightforward enough as a descriptor, but potentially freighted with ambiguity at the same time (I’ll let you decide for yourself what ‘underfall’ might mean when separated from engineering terminology). My own relationship with the site is inevitably layered and romanticised accordingly. Whilst I'm unable to ascribe a precise meaning myself, I know there’s strange poetry there for sure. Superficially, the site represents my habitual first refreshment/reflection stop on any visit to the city. Following a few hours of motorway driving, I will normally head straight to Cumberland Basin, park-up and stroll through to Underfall in search of toilets and the first coffee/lunch of the trip. The canopied outdoor seating area provides a perfect vantage point from which to study the adjacent buildings and boats, or the wider vistas of the Floating Harbour as it curves away into the city centre beyond. My meditations may shift from the industrial heritage of the site itself, to observations of the passing customers, dockland explorers and boat restorers, or my own personal history and ‘temps perdu’ in this part of the city (and back again) all in the duration of one cup of coffee. Such pause for thought will often also pressage the first photo-grabs of the trip, or provoke my first stroll along to the ‘Spike Island art complex, or two-wheeled circuit of the entire harbour.
Whilst undeniably picturesque as all this is, this portion of the docks also retains a few vestiges of an older industrial grunge. It remains, at least in part, a working environment - with many of the associated textures, odours and sounds one might expect. On my last visit, I was entertained by the tortuous manoeuvring of a large boat, even as neighbouring diners discussed a complex asylum case they were engaged in. I strolled on a few metres to photograph two skips full to the brim with mud-encrusted bikes, trolleys and other dredged debris, accompanied by a soundtrack of construction work - relating to the restoration of one of the Victorian buildings that fell victim to an arson attack, some years ago. This particular rebuild is encouraging, even if the charred timbers held their own tradgi-textural resonance for several years. As has often been demonstrated on here, where there’s building work - there’s scaffolding and hi-vis to photograph, whilst thoughts of transformation, becoming, and the future unfolding into history can never be far behind. As ever (and wherever), past, present and future, and the familiar and unknown, all nest within each other.
That’s quite a lot for one little painting to carry, so let’s return to more technical matters. It’s worth mentioning the relatively ‘pretty’ palette of colours - a welcome departure from the dour schemes of the ‘Machine’ pieces, but also possibly reflecting some of the confected architecture of Bristol’s hyper-inflated heritage property market. Photogenic rainbows of terraced villas famously gaze down from various Bristol hill tops - a reminder that even were I to attempt to re-relocate there, the cost would no doubt be prohibitive. Accents of fluro yellow allude to both the aforementioned builders, and to the reflected sails of a nearby yacht-training session, whilst an underpinning ground of black might relate to some of the more industrial aspects mentioned above. Oh, and it’s possible that the encrusted central cancellation suggests some aspiration towards greater painterliness in future works.
