Secret Name

David Wightman at the Hempel

“I grew up in a house where every wall was covered with blown vinyl wallpaper – a misguided attempt at home improvement.”

Think of Miss Havisham’s crumbling mansion, with its peeling wallpaper and tarnished silver. Think of the flocked velvet walls of a luxurious hotel suite, or even your grandmother’s living room from the Seventies. Wallpaper has found itself in a decorative limbo, skirted around by artists and remaining the plaything of the brave interior designer. Artist David Wightman has, however, seen an opportunity to reinvigorate the material with which we all have a relationship.

Wightman uses painted layers of precision-cut wallpaper shapes to build emotive abstractions. For him, wallpaper is synonymous with the home, his choice of the particular textures for each individual piece rich with wistful suggestion. Approaching his art with a lively palette and abstract geometric forms, the artist exploits the material’s kitsch connotations, resisting the theoretical loftiness of abstraction to instead progress in the direction of nostalgia and whimsy. Subtle nuances of raised patterns that “ultimately fail to represent what they imitate” allude to a sense of aspiration, of attempts through décor to imitate stately homes or modernist apartments. The intensity of glossy colour interrupts the nature of the wallpaper, complicating its reception and elevating it above its humble background to a valid artistic medium: a provocative case of role-reversal.

“The paper I use is chosen for its dated look – it can’t be too tasteful or ironic.”

Homage (2009) comprises four block-colour squares, whose independent patterns appear to intertwine such that the piece seems to resist its strict geometric boundaries. Calm in form but alive in texture, Homage tricks the eye into perceiving new shapes and new outlines; exciting dialogues between its components that exposes a certain intimacy within its bold appearance. An outline of shocking magenta closes the piece, almost ‘locking’ its forms into place, and in so doing simultaneously lifts and sinks the various internal shapes such that although fixed, they appear to stir, regardless.

“Not content with using impersonal titles normally associated with abstract works, my titles point towards places, people, situations, and feelings – at once sentimental and melancholy.”

Imbuing the work with a sense of history and intimacy through evocative titles such as Charlotte’s Room, Secret Name, and I Won’t Share You, the artist invites the viewer to share his most personal memories; his conception of home. Through this shift of the position of wallpaper from decorative platform to artistic statement, the relationship of Wightman’s work to the wall becomes more intriguing. With regard to domestic space, the artist sees his creations as being closer to a foreign object, than representing any sense of a return to their origins. In so doing, the work’s relationship with the home becomes restless and uneasy, mirrored in the pieces’ visually fluctuating levels of pattern and texture.

ABOUT THE CURATORS

Young curating duo SUMARRIA LUNN are Vishal Sumarria and Will Lunn, both in their twenties. Will Lunn put together his first exhibition aged just seventeen. Still only twenty-one, he remains one of the country’s youngest professional curators. Despite having experience that surpasses their years, the youthful pair operate with a refreshing approach that is reflected in their adept combination of both grand exhibitions (a charity auction at the Royal Institution of Great Britian with works by Anish Kapoor among others), and more intimate private viewings (including their own flat).

BIOGRAPHY

David Wightman is a graduate of the prestigious Royal College of Art, and has since exhibited in a number of important public galleries including a solo show at Cornerhouse and a group exhibition at CUBE – Centre for the Urban Built Environment (Manchester). The artist has shown at the Venice Biennale (2009) and is a recipient of the Hunting Art Prize (2003).

DETAILS

19th November – 19th December 2010

Art Work Space at the Hempel

Interview with the Illustrator

The Workshop of Sir Reginald Bray has written a piece that discusses the relationship of illustration to art, and interviews the increasingly successful Anne-Sophie Rosenvinge Skov for her thoughts on the matter, in the August issue of Who’s Jack.

When somebody says the word ‘illustration’ to you, what do you think of? Quentin Blake’s charming scribbles alongside Roald Dahl’s rapid-fire witterings? A quick watercolour of a smart pair of deck shoes alongside a fashion column in a newspaper? Or maybe even that vaguely useful self-assembly handbook that came with your Ikea desk? Think again. Illustration seems to be increasingly fluid, able to lend itself to areas of art foreign to our initial conception of it, in which it is often regarded as a practice tied to the text, rich with the nostalgia of childhood.

The demand for illustrators to work in an increasing array of areas, with an ability to have mastered the traditional pen and pencil, along with the latest technologies, would seem to hint at a burgeoning pressure on these artists to keep up to speed. I wouldn’t worry, though; our contemporary illustrators are more than capable of turning their hand to the task. Anne-Sophie Rosenvinge Skov is one to watch in this respect. Part of a new generation of practicing illustrators, this London-based Dane has already worked with internationally-renowned artists including Carolina Melis, has stocked a boutique in Spain with her work, and currently stocks one in Paris, all alongside her studies at LCC. Turning her hand to anything from updating her great-grandmother’s embroidery patterns to creating geometric outfits, the value of the hand-made is evident in Anne-Sophie’s work, and she talks to us about the role of illustration in contemporary art, and what drew her to it.

Read the interview here on pages 74-77 of the magazine, and visit Anne-Sophie’s blog Rosewing Wood for more of her work.

The Underrated Art Form

The Workshop of Sir Reginald Bray has written a piece  that discusses the role of film in the art world for the June issue of Who’s Jack.

”No…I didn’t really like it.” The response from a friend of mine after I’d suggested we see Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s latest offering Micmacs, or Micmacs à tire-larigot to use its full title. Whilst this wasn’t exactly unexpected, it made me wonder why this was said with a look of what can only be described as quiet discomfort, something I can only pin down to the film being of a different fare to that which most cinemas will usually screen, and indeed what he was used to. The genre of ‘art-house’ cinema is much maligned, deemed by some as experimental for the sake of it, compensating for a lack of plot with a whimsical set, exciting music and a cast of a more unique beauty than those who usually grace the silver screen; the lovely elfin Audrey Tautou is a case in point. I for one am thrilled that we were even able to casually see Micmacs without having to embark on an expedition to an obscure cinema on the city outskirts. Distributors simply do not want to screen these independent art-house films as they can pretty much guarantee the box office figures will be disappointing. Does this then mean that films of this ilk are automatically relegated to these hidden, quirky cinemas, or destined for a delayed popularity generated not by original viewings but through word of mouth and online forums?

Read the rest here on pages 70-74 of the magazine.

Close-up: François Méchain’s “L’Arbre aux échelles”

One of two in-situ pieces created for the 2009 Domain de Chaumont-sur-Loire, the work is either a sculpture in its own right, a sculpture for photography, or somewhere in between; a confusing self-admission by the artist who wishes to cloud the distinction. L’Arbre aux échelles is an allusion to Italo Calvino’s 1957 novel Baron perché, which translates as ‘The Baron in the Trees’. The story describes the impact of feuding parents on their three children, the eldest of which is driven insane, the middle of which becomes the title character, and the youngest who narrates the tale. Driven out of his home by his father’s intolerable abuse, middle child Cosimo escapes into the garden and climbs a tree, and after a further argument with his father, declares he’ll never come down. True to his word, Cosimo reaches the boundary of his garden and simply continues to travel onwards, commencing the rest of his life in an existence which is neither truly separate from his past, nor allows for a realistic future. He essentially commits himself to an elevated purgatory wherein no aspect of his existence can any longer be certain.

Méchain’s piece therefore presents an alarming array of choices to the beholder, offering numerous routes to ascend and enter, or descend and escape, like a concentrated game of Snakes and Ladders. Beautifully lit and inviting, the tree is both alluring and disappointing: the only way is up, but what from there? The piece is a charming take on a fundamentally unsettling tale, and the manner in which the tree is isolated upon the landscape only anticipates the boy’s lonely pursuit of life amongst the leaves.

What Happens Next is a Secret – but should it be?

The Workshop of Sir Reginald Bray has written a piece  that questions the risks of the Temporary Exhibition for the April issue of Who’s Jack.

Imagine that you’re six years old. You’re playing The Game of Life, and you get the Art Gallery status symbol card. You groan and roll your eyes because you had your eye on that smart Aeroplane card your friend just got. It is this image of the gallery or the museum as a stuffy Sunday activity that the new show staged by the Irish Museum of Modern Art (IMMA) will be shaking up. What Happens Next is a Secret comprises their contribution to the spring exhibition slot, but despite its launch the show is still uncertain in which direction it is heading. Works will be taken down, swapped around, replaced and relocated throughout the three months, to question both our perception of how images interact, and traditional curatorial practise. By usurping the ‘fixed’ nature of an exhibition and embracing last-minute decision-making, IMMA are essentially negating the opportunity to plan and prepare. They cannot anticipate the show’s reception, or even describe the enterprise in anything but a vague manner. However, this is what makes it interesting: the uncertainty creates a wonderful suspense in which you could potentially hope to see a work by your favourite artist, find something new every time you visit, or wrack your brains trying to remember whether you have actually seen this piece before. But, most importantly, it makes the exhibition seem alive…

Read the rest here on pages 54-55 of the magazine.

The Aging of Art

The Workshop of Sir Reginald Bray has written a piece entitled The Aging of Art, for Issue 34 of Who’s Jack.

Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe screenprint is one of the most repeated images of all time. Possibly the most recognisable piece to come out of the Pop Art movement, the work is automatically synonymous with the 1960s, colour, fame and excitement. The way in which the face fills the frame, the simplicity of curls, the gaze, the opportunity to emphasise those lips, have really marked Marilyn as the most significant of these screenprint images. Despite the fact that Warhol employed his favourite technicolour process to frame numerous figures, it is Marilyn to whom he returned again and again – the most marketable product of the constant businessman’s career (the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao is currently showing a collection of 150 variations of the piece). Of course, Marilyn was made for reproduction – that was the beauty of it: a simple process, a simple image that can be reproduced with endless variations. Naturally this has been taken advantage of by successive generations; now there is even a website that allows you to tailor the work to your own specific palette. But what of it? Why should it matter that ‘old’ art is providing direct source material for contemporary work? We all acknowledge that images will be reused, recycled, and reappropriated. However, it is how this trend operates within modern society that seems to not only flatter the past but actually provides an opportunity to really exploit the capabilities of our new technologies. Showing established images in a new light can really capture this sense of change…

Read the rest here on pages 62-64 of the magazine.

The Dawn of the Digital

The workings of digital technologies within our culture have been noticeable for quite some time. Consider the last 3D movie you went to see, or how much more overweight Mario looks on the Wii than on the Game Boy. Though difficult to define – it can be anything from animated messenger icons, to elaborate lighting displays, or even manipulated photographs – digital art has infiltrated the minutiae of society labelled as art with a practical application, or simply a technical style, but is starting to truly break into the realm of art for art’s sake.

For one, digital art has managed to translate historical subjects into a vernacular appropriate for Generation i; Lena Gieseke’s 3D visualisation of Picasso’s Guernica is a haunting, melodic addition to the burgeoning number of instances whereby ‘old’ art is being appropriated for a contemporary audience. Picasso’s works again featured in the recent projection series onto the National Gallery, not merely to promote the space but to reinforce the presence of this twentieth-century great in collective memory. Spanish artist Cristina Lucas has also given a nod to visual culture, adapting Delacroix’s painting La Liberté Raisonné into a live-action video piece that caused quite the stir at Frieze last year. Such works offer an exciting comment upon what we can recognise as familiar art and could potentially provide the answer as to how we can shake up the image of museums and galleries as stuffy Sunday activities. If digital art has the capability to reinvest ‘old’ art with the interest it deserves, surely this alone substantiates the medium’s claim to value in itself.

Agreement is becoming increasingly manifest, and as such the status of digital art is evolving from ‘event’ to art in its own right, with specific commissions and even entire exhibitions dedicated to it. The V&A recently announced the appointment of Christian Kerrigan as Artist in Residence, the first Digital Design artist to ever receive the post. They are also promoting the medium with their current show Decode: Digital Design Sensations, a stage for an array of impressive and innovative works that exploit the capabilities of modern technology. A collaboration between PHOTONIC DREAMS and Moment Factory has seen the permanent installation of La Vitrine, an interactive LED wall in Montreal that reacts to the movements of passers-by. Having won the Grand Prize in the city’s ‘Creativity Awards’, the piece functions as a contemporary hall of mirrors with the thrill of pretty lights thrown in for good measure. And a little closer to home, video artist Bill Viola has been commissioned to create two permanent digital altarpieces in St. Paul’s Cathedral.

An obstacle to the welcoming of the digital to the realm of high art may well be its transient visual nature – there is no object and therefore no sense of ownership. However, this is precisely the potential of the medium. It allows for interaction that physical pieces often resist: Temporary.cc for example is a website whose code is decomposed with each unique hit. Every new visitor breaks down the on-screen image such that eventually all that will be left is a white space. As such, the digital’s capabilities can refresh and reinvigorate art, but not only this, it can function as a producer of an art all its own. Our technology-obsessed culture is seeing the digital being taken more seriously in public forums, a happy progression that will inevitably continue, particularly if more large institutions persist in embracing it. The medium’s dependence on a technology under constant revision allows for virtually limitless possibilities, and I for one cannot wait to see what happens next.

Find Lena Gieseke’s incredible 3D visualisation of Picasso’s Guernica on the artist’s website.

This article will feature in the upcoming issue of The London Student.