Somewhat Abstracted

Charred Boards, Narrow Marsh, Nottingham, April 2014

A few posts back, I mentioned how spending any significant amount of time in an art exhibition can sometimes influence my perception of the world after leaving the gallery.  In the case of my recent visit to ‘Somewhat Abstract’ at NottinghamContemporary, (already discussed at some length), a similar process took place but this time, in reverse.  On my way to the gallery, and with time and Spring weather on my side, I spent a while exploring the surrounding area with my camera with the intention of concentrating on the walls, surfaces, and material fabric of the city in as abstract way as possible.

Charred Boards, Narrow Marsh, Nottingham, April 2014

There was a specific research agenda behind this, (and it’s hardly new territory for me, after all), but also, the general sense that, if ‘Abstract’ was to be a theme for the day, I might as well get into that mindset from the get-go.  In the event, I spent over an hour happily strolling around the dilapidated grandeur of the Lace Market area to the North of The Contemporary, and the more workaday territory immediately to the South -between the foot of the sandstone cliff that the gallery surmounts, and the Railway Station beyond.

Both: Narrow Marsh, Nottingham, April 2014

Rear Service Entrance, Nottingham Contemporary, April 2014

Although adjacent, these zones differ greatly in both atmosphere and physical attributes and there’s quite a contrast between the worlds of above and below.  The Lace Market, once being the seat of one of the craft trades on which Nottingham’s prosperity was most famously built, is a maze of interconnecting streets lined with imposing and often ornate Victorian buildings.  In recent years it has adapted itself to the needs of young creative types or those in search of stylish inner-city living, and the identity of the area now takes its identity equally from its historic setting (and dilapidation that still prevails in places), and the incidents of slick design and gentrification now punctuating it.

Both: Narrow Marsh, Nottingham, April 2014

The tract below is even more obviously in a state of transition.  The elevated tramline running towards its terminus next to the railway station, which is itself currently in the throws of major redevelopment, bisects it.  Indeed, this whole area is a nexus of transport routes, with a major road in and out of the city centre and a canal cut both running through it.  Regular readers will recognise this as exactly the kind of location I’m routinely drawn to.

Both: Narrow Marsh, Nottingham, April 2014

Immediately to the west of the new tramway lies the bulky, faded Modernism of the Broadmarsh Shopping Centre, Bus Station and Car Park complex, with various entrances resembling the mouths of a somewhat forbidding bunker.  To the east sits an enclave of mid-twentieth century housing that always intrigues me in its inconguity.  Laid out, I assume, as a public housing estate, and punctuated by a network of secluded pedestrian cut-throughs, it feels like a surprisingly calm oasis of tightly packed gardens and something of a time capsule in a rapidly changing scene. 

Both: Lace Market, Nottingham, April 2014

In the shadow of the tramline lie the last vestiges of the old Narrow Marsh slum area and the ruins of a disused railway line that once ran through it.  This includes a couple of streets of abandoned, dilapidated commercial buildings, (some showing evidence of arson), which provided some of the richest pickings for my camera.  These seem to teeter on the very edge of events now, as lapping up against them is a recently cleared area, clearly awaiting development and denoting the regenerative processes overtaking this whole district.  I never tire of such locales where one can sense the last gasps of a previous situation, just prior to it being sloughed off like dead cells from a city’s larger organism.

All: Lace Market, Nottingham, April 2014

Narrow Marsh, Nottingham, April 2014

As was my intention, they tread a line between formal abstraction and the recognisable world, whilst remaining fairly 'straight in terms of exposure and focusing'.  They also contain less than usual of the textual content that habitually fascinates me.  I suppose one could argue that relatively little of my geographical description above is specifically discernible from them.  However, I never tire of the multiple ways that history, and changing events or usages, can leave evidence of itself on the surfaces of a city’s physical fabric.  The passage of thousands of lives and the activities carried out within them, are all to there to be read, along with the wider processes of entropy, material decay and socio-economic fluctuations, if one looks hard enough.

Prunella Clough, 'Samples', Oil On Canvas, 1997

It was a delight to enter the ‘Somewhat Abstract’ show a few minutes later and find many of these thoughts magnified and distilled by the work on show.  They were there most obviously in the paintings of Prunella Clough and cast reliefs of Karin Ruggaber, with their strong suggestions of weathered masonry and urban environments.  More obliquely, they were also there in Mark Lewis’s filmed meditation on the lost Utopianism of an outmoded vision of architecture and city planning, or indeed, in Wolfgang Tillmans’ investigation of just how photography might transform itself into a medium capable of conveying the abstract.

Narrow Marsh, Nottingham, April 2014

On reflection, I wonder if photography might, paradoxically, be one of the more interesting ways to explore the oft-stated idea of abstraction/representation as two sides of the same coin.  It can, of course never be abstract in the strictest sense, but like the exhibition itself, may offer plenty of scope to explore the points at which the recognisable begins a transformation into something other.  It also occurs to me that, despite my recent ham-fisted attempts to expand my 'range' by incorporating representational motifs within certain paintings, it's really in some variety of formal abstraction that I feel most at home.

Lace Market, Nottingham, April 2014

Somewhat Abstract: Selections From The Arts Council Collection', continues until 29 June at Nottingham Contemporary, Weekday Cross, Nottingham, NG1 2GB.

'Aquatopia: The Imaginary Of The Ocean Deep' At Nottingham Contemporary

Nottingham Contemporary

I spent another weekend in Nottingham at a bit of a loose end recently, so took the opportunity to visit the exhibition, ‘Aquatopia: The Imaginary Of The Ocean Deep’, at Nottingham Contemporary.  Completed, (at some cost), just before the money finally ran out, The Contemporary is a definite plus point in a city with already quite a lot to offer culturally.  My own town of Leicester may have attempted to catch up in the last few years but, sadly, still has nothing to rival that facility where visual art is concerned.  Luckily, it’s only a short hop by road or rail between the two cities.

Nottingham Contemporary From The Rear, Lower Ground Level

Nottingham Contemporary, Lace Pattern Detail

If not exactly beautiful, the Contemporary building is a striking addition to the fabric of Nottingham and well positioned between the main shopping centre and the atmospheric old Lace Market quarter.  There are various bars, cafes and restaurants nearby and it feels like a part of town where one might happily hang out in off duty moments.  Architecturally, it exhibits a minimalism familiar in such institutions but tempers excessive rigour with fluted facades, sage green and gold colouration, and subtle surface detail relating to Nottingham’s lace-making heritage.  Under favourable lighting conditions its surfaces emit a pleasing pale golden glow.  It also cascades pleasingly down the sandstone cliff on which it is positioned, with a stylish but comfortable café-bar spilling out onto a terrace two stories below the entrance level.  Inside, the galleries are spacious, (although I wish they could have capitalised on daylight rather more).  I even like The Contemporary’s retro logo/signage.

Nottingham Contemporary, Rear View With Cafe Terrace

I won’t pretend the ‘Aquatopia’ show is exactly life changing, but it did provide a pleasant enough diversion for an hour.  It follows a fashionable current template by curating mismatched items representing various periods, cultures and media around a common theme, (in this case, The Sea).  These included items of design and industrial manufacture as well as what is perhaps still called Fine Art.  For me, it was nowhere near as inspiring as ‘Metropolis’ in Birmingham earlier this year but this may be in part because that mixed show tapped directly into several of my own concerns.  I was also somewhat underwhelmed by the audio-visual work in Nottingham, whereas at ‘Metropolis’ I had been pleasantly surprised by much of it.

Nottingham Contemporary From The Rear, Upper Street Level

Perhaps my biggest reservation about ‘Aquatopia’ is that it only provides glimpses of anything approaching a truly immersive experience.  It’s more like inspecting a cabinet of salty curiosities than being sensually, (or emotionally), engaged by the actual fluid immensity of the ocean.  That approach does allow a number of tangential and potentially interesting sub-themes to emerge, however.  Anyway, the exhibition isn’t devoid of highlights so, rather than focusing on what it doesn’t do, here are a few items that did catch my attention:

Gustave Dore, 'Illustrations To 'The Rhyme Of The Ancient Mariner' By
Samuel Taylor Coleridge', Wood Engravings, 1876

Gustave Doré, ‘Illustrations to ‘The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner’ by Samuel Taylor Coleridge’, Wood Engravings, 1876:  I loved these in reproduction from an early age so it was a real pleasure to see eight of them for real.  Doré’s meticulous engravings are full of dark, gothic atmosphere, pleasing formality and memorable imagery.  His small storm-tossed vessel, dwarfed by looming waterspouts, captivated me especially.

Wolfgang Tillmans, 'Astro Crust A', Photographic Ink Jet Print, 2012

WolfgangTillmans, ‘Astro Crust A’, Photographic Ink Jet Print, 2012:  Tillmans’ large photographic image zooms in close on the crustaceous architecture of a broken cooked lobster.  Any enjoyment of the sensuous colour and craggy detail is subverted by the present of a sinister, black fly grazing on the flesh.  It transforms the image into something queasily alien and reminds us of the flyblown decay often prevalent at the sea’s margins.

Ashley Bickerton, 'Orange Shark', Polyurethane, Nylon, Cotton Webbing, Stainless Steel, Scope
Distilled Water, Coconuts & Rope, 2008

Ashley Bickerton, ‘Orange Shark’, Polyurethane, Nylon, Cotton Webbing, Stainless Steel, Scope, Distilled Water, Coconuts, Rope, 2008:  For more than one reason, sharks became something of a signifier for contemporary art around the start of the century.  Bickerton’s suspended Hammerhead has a cheerful, ironic appeal being cast in transparent purple plastic and clad in its vaguely fetishistic orange nylon jacket.  Such knowing references to the processes of industrial design are very typical of his work.  The coconuts and bottles of distilled water suspended surreally beneath it, and the general materials employed, seem to evoke certain ideas about buoyancy.

Edward Wadsworth, 'Regalia', Egg Tempera & Oil On Gessoed Canvas On Board, 1928

Edward Wadsworth, 'The Beached Margin', Tempera On Gessoed Canvas On Wood, 1937

Edward Wadsworth, ‘Regalia’, Egg Tempera & Oil On Gessoed Canvas On Board, 1928. And: ‘The Beached Margin’, Tempera On Canvas On Wood, 1937:  Although separated by nine years, both of these paintings demonstrate Wadsworth’s clear-eyed and illustrative, formal precision.  Like the self-conscious modernist he was, Wadsworth created highly artificial, nautically themed arrangements of objects in which the mechanical takes precedence over the natural.  Whilst ‘Regalia’ follows the still-life model, ‘The Beached Margin’ depicts a fictitious, sculptural beach installation including a starfish and forms resembling technical instruments.  Both are suffused with clear coastal illumination and convey a particular air of marine Surrealism.

Karl Weschke, 'Caliban', Oil On Canvas, 1974

Karl Weschke, ‘Caliban’, Oil On Canvas, 1974:  I’ve written before about my enthusiasm for Weschke’s work and his intense, Germanic take on the Cornish Coastline.  When, as a student, I met him years ago, he spoke with an impressive intensity about the destructive power of the sea that seemed a world away from the politer, more formal concerns of the other 20th Century St. Ives School painters.  This dark canvas, (which appears much lighter in reproduction,) represents his existential interest in solitary, prone figures adrift in the water or washed up on the beach.

Miller Dunn Co., Miami, Florida,  'U.S. Navy Standard Diving
Hood, Style 2', Brass & Glass, 1851, (Similar Example).

Miller Dunn Co., Miami, Florida, ‘U.S. Navy Standard Diving Hood, Style 2,’ Brass & Glass, 1851:  Although clearly a manufactured utilitarian object, this robotic brass helmet works just as well as a readymade Art object with somewhat sinister overtones.  It’s impossible not to identify with the original wearer, and the sense of claustrophobic enclosure and vulnerability within a foreign element that they must have felt on the seabed, radiates from it palpably.

J.M.W. Turner, 'Sunrise With Sea Monsters', Oil On Canvas, 1945

J.M.W. Turner, ‘Sunrise With Sea Monsters’, Oil On Canvas, 1845:  I guess, for some, this is the biggest draw in the show, given Turner’s status as a superstar of British art with mass appeal.  It’s possible to get distracted by all that and overlook just how radical a painter he was, certainly by the conventions of his time.  This is one of those typical Turner seascapes in which the nominal, (and in this case, frankly ludicrous), subject is subsumed within a nebulous world of liquid, vapour and light.  The horizon dissolves and those sketchy, nominal monstrosities become effectively irrelevant as he pulls off the stunt of transforming coloured paste into pure atmosphere once again.  Actually, although not huge, this one is pretty immersive.

'Turps Banana, Issue 13':  Pleasingly, Still Solvent

On my way out of the Contemporary I picked up a copy of the twice-yearly painting magazine, ‘Turps Banana’.  I don’t consume many art magazines but do enjoy this one, (when I find it), for being written for painters by painters and also for its total lack of advertisements.  Coincidentally, after viewing Karl Weschke’s painting, I received another reminder of my student days.  The magazine included a conversation between big-name painter Albert Irvin and Stewart Geddes – a contemporary of mine on the Fine Art course at Bristol Polytechnic in the early 80s, (at least, I'm assuming it's the same guy).  I remember Stewart as being very serious about his painting but also really entertaining company, (and especially hospitable, one particular Christmas).  It’s good to know he’s still painting and moving in pretty exalted artistic circles.

Mark Gubb, 'Nottingham Contemporary Corporate Ident.'

You can still just catch ‘Aquatopia: The Imaginary Of The Ocean Deep’, Until 22 September 2013, At Nottingham Contemporary, Weekday Cross, Nottingham, NG1 2GB