Shaun Morris & Andrew Smith/Hr Smoke: 'Displaced' At T-Street Gallery, Birmingham, 3 July 2021

 

Andrew Smith, 'Collected Redactions 2', Acrylic on Canvas, 142 cm x 114 cm, 2020

As our various freedoms of movement have been partially restored in recent weeks, I've already attended a few small exhibition openings in the Midlands.  The most recent of these involved a dive over to Birmingham, with my friend, Dave - to catch the first day of the joint show 'Displaced', by my sometime co-conspirators, Shaun Morris and Andrew Smith.  It was also an opportunity to visit the previously unfamiliar (to me) T-Street Gallery, and also to meet its mastermind (and curator of this exhibition) Sevven Kucuk.  I've no real idea about the epidemiological wisdom of The Government's lockdown easing measures - beyond the distinct suspicion we're far from having heard the last of all this viral malarkey.  However, I'm no different from most folks in enjoying the chance to get out and about, and to enjoy just doing stuff again.  Visiting exhibitions, catching up with friends, meeting new art world participants, and sipping the drinks we enjoyed later in the day, are all part of that.  We even managed to catch a little weekend sunshine and avoid most of the jingoistic football nonsense, along the way.  All in all, the job was a good 'un.

Shaun Morris & Andrew Smith, 'Displaced', T-Street Gallery, Birmingham, July 2021. 
With Some Old Favourites by Shaun, and Curator, Sevven Kucuk (C.) 

Shaun Morris, 'The Green Door', Oil on Canvas, 120 cm X 80 cm, 2020

The work of both Shaun and Andrew has featured here on numerous previous occasions, and in various configurations, and the current show represents a relatively small selection of both old and new work - much of which I was at least partially familiar with already.  Nevertheless, there's no substitute for seeing actual work in a room, and it's always instructive to see even well-known work in new contexts.  In this case it was also interesting to view the work of both artists through the eyes of a third party.  I think it's fair to say that Sevven's thoughtful and collaborative curation have resulted in a hang that capitalises on the strengths of both the work, and the two spaces in which it hangs.

Shaun (2nd L) & Andrew (R), with Friends

Andrew Smith, 'Collected Redactions 5' (L) & 'Collected Redactions 6' (R),
Both Acrylic on Canvas, 121 cm X 91 cm, 2020

Whilst both artists continue to plough their own distinct furrows, there are still enough fruitful conversations between each selection to suggest some kind of loose thematic connection.  In this case, that would point towards a shared meditation on the interraction we've all experienced with both trepidatious outdoor spaces and our own constrained interiors, in the time of Covid.  In Sevven's words: 

"We've been forced to reflect upon our relationships with areas and places we've been isolated too and enclosed in and how our methods of communications connect or disconnect." [1.]

Shaun Morris, 'No Particular Place To Go', Oil on Canvas, 50 cm X 60 cm, 2021

Shaun Morris, 'Lock Up' (Top) & 'Lock Up II' (Bottom), Both Oil on Canvas, 30 cm X 30 cm, 2019 

Shaun Morris, 'Lockdown', Oil on Canvas, 75 cm X 50 cm, 2020

In Shaun's case, this knowledge serves to re-frame the palpable melancholy (or indeed, 'displacement'), that has always suffused his nocturnal visions of Birmingham's suburbs and edgelands.  His customary stationary vehicles, architectural corners and street furniture continue to resonate under sombre urban illumination - partially abstracting themselves amidst dramatic patterns of coloured light and deep shadow.  But now they also loom out of the darkness like ghostly presences encountered during our brief, officially-sanctioned exercise sessions.  The tension between restriction and those snatched moments of lonely 'freedom', are now palpable - even in works made long before the pandemic.  Whilst reassessing the past, I was also intrigued to see that Shaun has recently revisited the subject matter of his elevated motorway pieces of a few years ago.  The modestly-scaled motorway painting he now shows ('What Happened to All the Friends We Used to Know') may be less immediately dramatic than previous efforts, but it's a real slow-burner.  Complete with its incongruous ghostly horse, it gradually reveals itself from the prevailing gloom, like something from Sickert.  The painting emphasises just how accomplished Shaun has become at depicting the effects of restricted light and colour at night.

Shaun Morris, 'What Happened To All The Friends We Used To Know', 
Oil on Canvas, 50 cm X 60 cm, 2021

As usual, Andrew's recent output is a rather more oblique and open to multiple potential interpretations.  It's a feature of his work I've always relished - even if he has occasionally joked that he reads my blog posts to find out himself what his work is actually about!  As ever, he now presents work in multiple media, with notable diversions into experimental writing and video.  However, his main contribution to the show is split between painted-over photographs, and somewhat larger, nominally abstract paintings.  The former are, by his own account, grabbed (direct from the screen) from the popular T.V. property show, 'Homes Under The Hammer'.  Knowing Andrew, as I do, there'll be at least some satirical intent there, but in the context of this exhibition, the main effect evoked is one of unsettling enclosure within alienating domestic spaces.  How many people have found their familiar surroundings transformed into psychically overloaded terrain under lockdown conditions - I wonder?  How many were unable to relocate within their preferred time-frame?  How many more found themselves frittering their enforced imprisonment whilst staring blankly at facile T.V. shows?

Andrew Smith, 'Cubist On The Water (Homes Under The Hammer'. Acrylic on Digital Print,
58 cm X 43 cm, 2021

Andrew Smith, 'Just What Is It That Makes Today's Homes So Different, So Appalling
(Homes Under The Hammer)', Acrylic On Digital Print, 58 cm X 43 cm, 2020

Andrew Smith, 'Landscape With Empty Light Subject (Homes Under The Hammer)',
Acrylic on Digital Print, 58 cm X 43 cm, 2021

Andrew Smith, '...(The Caretaker Edited)', Video, 2020

If the paintings seem a little more straightforwardly formalist at first viewing - they soon prove to be no less layered and mediated in their unfolding.  Their interlocking, flattened shapes and compositional arrangements are assembled from multiple digitally filtered and superimposed photos of scarred and stained exterior walls.  If (like Shaun) Andrew has found himself  focussing on quotidian details in a time of reduced horizons, he's also wasted little time in distilling them into yet-more unfamiliar environments via the expedient of heavy digital intervention.  What really hold these pieces in slightly wonky balance are the occasional (very) vestigial clues to an original subject, and also the the push-pull of small painterly accidents, versus possibly arbitrary decisions made at the keyboard.  Should the colour schemes suggest some degree of more elegant respite in trying times - Andrew himself reminds us they are often the chance result of the mechanical translation from photograph, to digital file, to painted canvas.  Again, we're prompted to question how much of the everyday experience we once took for granted, has been driven yet deeper into the digital domain - or reflected back to us on mis-calibrated screens, in the last eighteen months.  Will that do, Andrew?

T-Street Gallery Windows, Birmingham, July 2021

To conclude, mention should be made of T-Street Gallery itself.  It occupies a modest, but perfectly serviceable space as the adjunct to a long-standing shared studio complex, at the interface between the leisure/cultural hotspots around Broad Street, and the more down-at-heel environs of Ladywood.  In recent decades, many striving artists in search of studio or exhibition space will have become connoisseurs of run-down, post-industrial premises.  Nevertheless, T-Street occupies what must be one of the more dilapidated examples of the breed.  Luckily, I myself find it hard to trust anyone who can't appreciate a proper bit of urban grunge.  The fabric of the building includes numerous fascinating infrastructural clues to its previous incarnations, amongst crumbling masonry  and cracked panes.  Nevertheless, I couldn't help noticing that the somewhat questionable integrity of the roof has been carefully shored-up, immediately above the gallery space, and it's testament to the energy and determination of Sevven Kucuk, that she's been able to carve out such a venture, almost single-handed.  She's also achieved it in the face of pretty limited resources, it would seem.  If our relatively brief conversation is a reliable indication - her motivations seem spot-on, and if any form of grass-roots Art scene is to survive in this country, it will doubtless be through the efforts of such folk.

Vertiginous Post-Industrial Ambience, T-Street Gallery, July 2021

'Shaun Morris & Andrew Smith/Hr Smoke: 'Displaced', continues at T-Street Gallery, Top Floor, 55 Great Tyndal Street, Birmingham B16 8DR, Until 18 July 2021.

 

[1.]:  Sevven Kucuk, Exhibition Guide Notes, 'Shaun Morris & Andrew Smith/Hr Smoke, 'Displaced', T-Street Gallery, Birmingham, July 2021.

Shaun Morris: 'Quiet Signs' At Asylum Gallery, Wolverhampton

A lack of dynamism, and adequate forward thinking on my part, mean I'm posting this at unreasonably short notice - for which, apologies to all concerned.

Nevertheless, it would be remiss not to publicise the fact that my friend, Shaun Morris, has another exhibition of his paintings about to open at Asylum Gallery, Wolverhampton.  By the time I post this, the Opening Event will be only hours away (Friday 15 March, 6 pm - 9 pm), but the exhibition itself is in situ until 5 April, which at least provides three weeks to see the work.

I'm not familiar with Asylum, and the publicity suggests that visiting the show is by appointment - which may be a sign of the times, perhaps.  Anyway, it's probably worth a scan of the their website (here), or perhaps a phone call, before setting out.  I notice Shaun's also running a 'Wine and Painting Workshop' on 30 March.  That sounds like an admirable combination to me, particularly as there's not much Shaun doesn't know about pushing the gooey stuff around - with wine, or otherwise.

Sadly, I can't even show you any of Shaun's most recent paintings, as he's obviously keeping them under wraps a bit - at least until they've had a proper outing in real time and space.  However, I'm assured he's been pretty busy of late, and that the new stuff isn't too far removed (in subject matter at least) from the paintings he showed, when we exhibited together in Nottingham, last year.  As I understand it, some of those older ones will gain repeat exposure this time round too.  You can get a pretty good impression of what Shaun and his work are about on his own site (here), or his Blog (here), and he tells me he also has a healthy Instagram presence now; although being totally dim as to the workings of 'Insta' (as I hear the kids calling it) - I'll have to take his word for that.  For some reason, I can hardly find the enthusiasm to maintain even my existing low levels of social media participation of late, and I suspect this whole Internet thing is just a fad, really.

Hopefully that gives enough clues to at least follow the trail.  As ever, and particularly with work like Shaun's - there really is no substitute for looking at the real thing.  You know what to do... 


'Quiet Signs: Recent Paintings By Shaun Morris' opens on Friday 15 March, and runs until Friday 5 April, at Asylum Gallery, 21 Clifton Street, Wolverhampton, WV3 0TZ

'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.

Andrew Smith, Shaun Morris & Hugh Marwood: 'Visions Of A Free-Floating Island' at Surface Gallery, Nottingham

My 'Sentinel' Sculptures, 'Visions Of A Free-Floating Island', (Upstairs) Surface Gallery, Nottingham,
September 2018

After seemingly endless months in the planning, Shaun Morris, Andrew Smith and I have finally opened our exhibition ‘Visions Of A Free-Floating Island’ at Nottingham’s Surface Gallery.

Sculptures By Andrew Smith (Downstairs)

My 'Sentinel' and 'Childish Things' Sculptures, With Paintings By Shaun Morris (Upstairs)

My 'Childish Things 1 (Misled)', With My 'Fridges' and (L.) Painting By Andrew Smith (Upstairs)...

...And Again, With 'Childish Things 4 (Mistaken)' and Paintings By Shaun Morris

'Childish Things 4 & 1', with 'Sentinels' and Paintings By Shaun Morris (Upstairs)

This is the most ambitious joint venture, in both scale and scope, that we’ve attempted to date - and is the culmination of an extended period of hard graft on everyone’s part.  Indeed, it was only as the adrenaline started to leave my body on opening night (to be replaced by my first sampling of the excellent beer selection laid on by Surface), that I realised just how tensely focused I’ve been for the entirety of this year - and for much 2017 too.  That was in part due to my branching out into the (for me) unfamiliar territory of sculptural assemblage for much of this cycle of work, and perhaps also - some anxiety about its undeniably Brexity sub-themes running out of currency, by the time we actually made it into the public arena.  As it turns out – that particular fear has proved entirely unfounded.

Sculpture By Andrew Smith, with Work by All Three (Downstairs)...

...And Again.

Work By All Three (Upstairs)

Painting By Shaun Morris...

...And Again, with 'Sentinel 5' (Upstairs)...

...And Two More By Shaun

On a more practical level, there was also the familiar old worry that we’d fail to fill Surface’s ample spaces with new work of consistent quality (always a personal neurosis of mine).  That also proved to be unfounded, and I actually think that we’ve populated both floors of the gallery pretty satisfyingly - with no obvious lacunae, or indeed anything that I feel even remotely embarrassed about.  In the event, what did nearly catch us out was the extended time needed to install a show of this scale, over two floors.  It’s fair to say this one went pretty close to the wire.  In the event, it required two exhausting late night shifts - and a heroic, last minute sprint by Shaun to ensure we could open in proper order.

'Fridges' by Me, and Writing By Andrew Smith (Downstairs)...

...And The Same 'Fridges' Again'

Eight of My 'Flagging' Pieces (Downstairs)...

...And The Other Two.

'Coloured-In' Piece by Andrew Smith..

...And Again, With His Sculpture, And Painting By Shaun (Downstairs)...

...And More Work By Andrew, With My 'Childish Things 2 (Mistreated)' and 'Fridge 1'.

Anyway, open we did, and it was gratifying that, when I raced over for the opening, after a full day’s work – I found a show, not only ready to meet its public, but also looking pretty well curated.  As a result, our opening event was very enjoyable, despite (or perhaps because of) those waves of relief, and somewhat euphoric exhaustion).  I should certainly take this opportunity to thank all those who turned out (many travelling, on an evening of variable weather) - and who stayed for the duration, to make it a convivial success.  Foolishly, (and again due to fatigue, perhaps) I neglected to take shots of the event itself with bodies in the room – so you’ll just have to take my word for that.  But at least there are enough general views of the show itself here, to give a reasonable impression of what all the fuss is about.

'Childish Things 4 (Mistaken)' With Shaun's Paintings (Upstairs)

'Childish Things 2 (Mistreated)', With 'Sentinels' and Shaun's Paintings (Upstairs)

It inevitably takes a while to properly reflect on the nature of what might actually have been achieved in these situations - but there’s a couple of weeks of the exhibition’s duration, for that to occur.  I’ll be back there, with Shaun and Andrew, for an Artist Talk on Saturday 22 September, and that will inevitably focus my thoughts on the matter further still.  I’ll attempt to put some of them into a subsequent post.  For now, it just remains to spread the love…

(L.) Paintings By Shaun, with (R.) Two of My 'Flagging' Pieces 

More of Shaun's Paintings...

... And Yet More Still

Credits:

Thanks go to:

Jez Kirby, Nathan Dean, and the rest of the Committee and Volunteers at Surface Gallery, Nottingham:  For giving us a home, and helping us to realise and market the whole venture.  They’ve been consistently approachable and tolerant of our own quirks.  It’s worth mentioning, to any other not-too-well established artists in search of a venue - that the Surface ‘offer’ is really pretty impressive.

Chris Cowdrill and Miri Bean:  For designing the publicity material and our accompanying exhibition booklet.  Chris, in particular, has done similar work for us on several occasions now - and always labours far beyond what we can actually afford to pay him for.

The residents of West Leicester:  For unknowingly furnishing a seemingly endless supply of fly-tipped, damaged toys and unwanted fridges - and for parking innumerable white vans around the place, for me to catalogue.

Tim Durham and Susie Fletcher:  For both providing more specific examples of the same, and always encouraging me to keep having a go.

Rushey Mead Academy, Leicester:  For an equally copious supply of cardboard boxes, and for the use of their circular saw to cut all the MDF, after hours (and to Tim and the rest of the Art Team, for tolerating the long weeks when I had it all piled up in the Stock Room).

Lorel:  For always turning out (even with a bad back), and for putting me up - when I finally just had to go to sleep.

City Self Drive, Leicester:  For lending me great vans of my own (and for always being reliable, and easy to deal with).

And, of course – Shaun and Andrew:  Without whom…

Paintings By Andrew, Including (L.) The One Which Lent The Show It's Title...

... And The White Van That Helped Deliver It.

‘Visions Of A Free-Floating Island’ continues until Saturday, 29 September, at Surface Gallery, 16 Southwell Road, Nottingham NG1 1DL.  We'll all be jointly giving an Artist Talk about the exhibition and our work, between 14.00 - 15.00 on Saturday 22 September.  Maybe we'll see you there...