What a load of shit
Review of Craig Fishers work in the ‘Closely Held Secrets’ exhibition at the Bonnington gallery.
“What a load of shit” said an anonymous student.
“What do you mean shit? I think it’s quite good“, replied another anonymous student.
“No!” the first student says whilst laughing, “That’s what the piece is called.”
‘What a Load of Shit’ is a textiles piece that stretches over an area roughly 7x4 meters. The work has a bright yet limited colour pallet of strong pinks, darker greens, browns, greys and various blacks. It resembles some kind of catastrophe or breakdown; pink planks of wood sit in a pile with random shapes and what I assume to be bird shit splatters assorted randomly in, on and around the work. It juxtaposes well with the surrounding work from other artists, the curator of the show was obviously very particular with the placement of this piece as well as it’s careful lighting.
Invigilating the closely held secrets exhibition gave me the unique opportunity to sit in the presence of this work for over seven hours. Presence in this case would be the correct word to use, the work has a real aura about it. In fact being somewhat of a people watcher I’ve observed that the exhibition goers mimic the plug hole effect, once the viewer steps into the gallery they work their way around the exhibition until they reach ‘What a Load of Shit’ in the middle. The piece itself is quite playful, the shapes are generally always rounded off with no hard lines or edges. It’s bright colours and bold shapes are like those you might find in a playroom or a day-care centre. I would suggest that ‘What a Load of Shit’ is no different, the work is big, bright and occupies a significant amount of floor space, even it’s appearance looks as if it’s been subjected to a rough playtime session at a pre school. It also commands a significant amount of respect within the gallery; as I said previously people seem to be walking around the whole exhibition almost as if they’re building up to the pink mass. It’s like people are being ’good gallery goers’ taking in every bit of art work until they finally arrive at the work they want to bend down touch. It may be that the strict boundaries regarding the touching of artwork is the only thing stopping young and old alike picking up the work and having a play. I can’t emphasise enough the overwhelming want I have to touch the work, it’s almost as if it’s inviting me to do so. This isn’t helped by the nature of the presentation, because of it’s chaotic roots there is no boundary stopping you from getting really close to the work. Parts stick out more than others suggesting it’s okay to come as close as you want. The kid in a candy shop really springs to mind here. Due to it’s scale and colour there is no avoiding the work, so with people obviously clocking it’s existence why is it being left until the end? Perhaps like a roast dinner you save the best until last? I can only deduce that ’What a Load of Shit’ is comparable to a selection of particularly good roast potatoes.
Craig Fishers piece is the most visually commanding in the whole exhibition. However this is no easy feat, there is no single piece of work which doesn’t contribute something to the exhibition as a whole, I tip my hat once more to the curator. Craig’s work is just really interesting to look at, regardless of it’s conceptual prowess it is just something really nice to be in the presence of. It reverts me back to a childlike state in all honesty, like ice cream the bigger and more colourful the better it is. Craig’s work is the same for me, it’s big it’s bold and it’s completely beautiful. Its also presented well, the advantage of being a three dimensional piece means that you can have several different encounters with the work, each time seeing something you previously hadn’t. It’s the skill of the artist that makes this interesting, this work is a paradox in that it‘s a chaotic shambles that‘s been so precisely assembled. The artist has been very particular in the organisation of the piece, it’s layout and it’s remarkably obvious to me that it’s taken a significant amount of time to put together.
There is a wonderful contrast in Craig Fishers work, he likes to make horrible looking things look beautiful. I am completely drawn in by the conceptual side and I think in particular this work is fascinating. Previous examples of Craig’s practise involve making detailed embroidery of piles of sick, soft knuckle dusters, tables of knives and hooks as well as blood splattered on the wall. Quite a grotesque set of scenes that might be better suited to a private and confidential police file rather than admired and observed in art galleries. But this is what adds such a charming quality to the practise, everyone knows that knuckle dusters and knives are associated to crime scenes and aren’t particularly beautiful to look at however Craig transforms them, giving them a new context and forcing the viewer to interpret them in a different way. There is also a humorous side to the work, soft knuckle dusters are completely redundant, this element of the work is quite charming and you could also argue that there is a social commentary emerging. Perhaps Craig’s perceived objective to beautify the scarier and slightly taboo elements of our society is a coping mechanism or even a means to comprehend it? Rather than making work for the sake of being beautiful, he re-constructs quite chaotic scenes, ‘What a Load of Shit’ as a title already is quite suggestive, but in my opinion, it couldn’t be further from the truth.
By Joseph Cerski
Sunday 21 November 2010
Sunday 14 November 2010
The Clearing by John Newling
John Newling, ‘The Clearing.’
‘I really want to put some mud in that hole’ was my first thought as I was witnessing John carefully pat down soil onto a freshly planted beech tree.
I knew very little of the encounter I was about to have sitting on the bus on the way to the suburbia which was hosting John Newlings latest endeavour, in hindsight not knowing the experience I was about to have made the actual encounter all the more charming. When the bus pulled up to a small recreation ground I walked over to a congregation of people on the far side of the field. A mix of people had appeared to of turned up including the mayor, some degree level students and some aspiring foundation students; the crowd watched on as John, with some local assistance, began to plant nine beech trees in a perfect circle. Witnessing the event didn’t seem to be enough for some people, this community involving piece of work drew people in and non verbally encouraged involvement from young and old alike. I myself, trying to remain subjective for the sake of the review couldn’t help but to grab a fist full of dirt and scatter it at the base of a tree. I got involved and I was pleasantly satisfied!
The work itself came across to me as some-what of a performance as well as a permanent instillation. These tree’s had been nurtured in a hydroponics system at BioCity laboratories in Snenton, growing in soil that is the people of the area. In the soil is finely shredded documents, images and resources all from the local community, the sentiment alone is heart warming although further probing allowed me to conclude that John Newling had presented the community with a gift. These tree’s contained the people that surrounded them, like a community come rain or shine they’re there. The performance element, for me at least, will never end; from the original thought to the distant future these tree’s will continue to represent a linked community. The local man who grew the trees, the community who planted the trees and the dog walkers, amateur footballers and many more members of the public will continue to enjoy the instillation.
The realisation of the significance of the work summarised the entire experience for me. As previously stated I was blissfully unaware of the specific context of John Newlings work, so witnessing the planting and formation of the physical side was a refreshing and down to earth experience, free from context I just enjoyed the work at face value. Speculating on the possibilities the question, ‘where does the work start and end?’ came to light. Although work started in a laboratory and is now planted in a recreational field in a Nottingham suburb has the work actually finished? What specific part of the experience as a whole is the ‘work’? Just the act of raising these questions suggest that ‘The Clearing’ is part of a more intricate social network. So unlike site specific sculptural instillations this all natural work, gifted to the people of the area, really is designed to become a part of the community as time goes on. In one of 81 books printed (to be a continuation of the work) John expresses his desire for the space to be used as an area where leading experts in their fields can talk and express themselves in the space. This attitude to his work further promotes the works life span and links to the community.
After a brief break for food John led the group on a walk which was obviously very personal to him. He had his partner there and they jokily described previous sighs seen during their walks, this only added to the personal quality the work, even the theory behind the work reverberated thoroughly. What really strikes me is that John makes work which is aesthetically beautiful in a variety of ways, the tree’s themselves as well as the way they’re presented looks poetic. The time, his unquestionable attentiveness to the tree’s, the material grown into and entwined into the soul of the trees makes for an involved experience for the viewer and no doubt it’s creator. The sentiment and dream John has for the work and it’s future is a delicate one, John is clearly an advocate of social involvement as is he a nature enthusiast. In a conversation I was lucky enough to have with John he pointed out to me how he was keen the work is viewed as a gift to the community. He came across selfless, his ambition to create work that doesn’t need to be maintained, thus costing the community nothing, demonstrates his passion for social art over a means to make money.
Leaving the work and returning home to write about it, going through notes and trying to remember exactly what was said is all second best to the impact I feel John Newling has had on my outlook to public art and my own practise. This informative and involving work has inspired me to review my outlook on how fine art stands within a community and particularly who art work is made for. That’s perhaps the most interesting feature, Johns work begins to question who art work is made for. Should making artwork be reviewed as more of a public service? I really recommend going to see this work, it’s informative, quaint and really inspiring.
‘I’m so glad I got to put some mud on the tree! Can you believe I’ve collaborated with John Newling?’
‘I really want to put some mud in that hole’ was my first thought as I was witnessing John carefully pat down soil onto a freshly planted beech tree.
I knew very little of the encounter I was about to have sitting on the bus on the way to the suburbia which was hosting John Newlings latest endeavour, in hindsight not knowing the experience I was about to have made the actual encounter all the more charming. When the bus pulled up to a small recreation ground I walked over to a congregation of people on the far side of the field. A mix of people had appeared to of turned up including the mayor, some degree level students and some aspiring foundation students; the crowd watched on as John, with some local assistance, began to plant nine beech trees in a perfect circle. Witnessing the event didn’t seem to be enough for some people, this community involving piece of work drew people in and non verbally encouraged involvement from young and old alike. I myself, trying to remain subjective for the sake of the review couldn’t help but to grab a fist full of dirt and scatter it at the base of a tree. I got involved and I was pleasantly satisfied!
The work itself came across to me as some-what of a performance as well as a permanent instillation. These tree’s had been nurtured in a hydroponics system at BioCity laboratories in Snenton, growing in soil that is the people of the area. In the soil is finely shredded documents, images and resources all from the local community, the sentiment alone is heart warming although further probing allowed me to conclude that John Newling had presented the community with a gift. These tree’s contained the people that surrounded them, like a community come rain or shine they’re there. The performance element, for me at least, will never end; from the original thought to the distant future these tree’s will continue to represent a linked community. The local man who grew the trees, the community who planted the trees and the dog walkers, amateur footballers and many more members of the public will continue to enjoy the instillation.
The realisation of the significance of the work summarised the entire experience for me. As previously stated I was blissfully unaware of the specific context of John Newlings work, so witnessing the planting and formation of the physical side was a refreshing and down to earth experience, free from context I just enjoyed the work at face value. Speculating on the possibilities the question, ‘where does the work start and end?’ came to light. Although work started in a laboratory and is now planted in a recreational field in a Nottingham suburb has the work actually finished? What specific part of the experience as a whole is the ‘work’? Just the act of raising these questions suggest that ‘The Clearing’ is part of a more intricate social network. So unlike site specific sculptural instillations this all natural work, gifted to the people of the area, really is designed to become a part of the community as time goes on. In one of 81 books printed (to be a continuation of the work) John expresses his desire for the space to be used as an area where leading experts in their fields can talk and express themselves in the space. This attitude to his work further promotes the works life span and links to the community.
After a brief break for food John led the group on a walk which was obviously very personal to him. He had his partner there and they jokily described previous sighs seen during their walks, this only added to the personal quality the work, even the theory behind the work reverberated thoroughly. What really strikes me is that John makes work which is aesthetically beautiful in a variety of ways, the tree’s themselves as well as the way they’re presented looks poetic. The time, his unquestionable attentiveness to the tree’s, the material grown into and entwined into the soul of the trees makes for an involved experience for the viewer and no doubt it’s creator. The sentiment and dream John has for the work and it’s future is a delicate one, John is clearly an advocate of social involvement as is he a nature enthusiast. In a conversation I was lucky enough to have with John he pointed out to me how he was keen the work is viewed as a gift to the community. He came across selfless, his ambition to create work that doesn’t need to be maintained, thus costing the community nothing, demonstrates his passion for social art over a means to make money.
Leaving the work and returning home to write about it, going through notes and trying to remember exactly what was said is all second best to the impact I feel John Newling has had on my outlook to public art and my own practise. This informative and involving work has inspired me to review my outlook on how fine art stands within a community and particularly who art work is made for. That’s perhaps the most interesting feature, Johns work begins to question who art work is made for. Should making artwork be reviewed as more of a public service? I really recommend going to see this work, it’s informative, quaint and really inspiring.
‘I’m so glad I got to put some mud on the tree! Can you believe I’ve collaborated with John Newling?’
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