23 September – 11 November 2012
V22 Workspace
F-Block
The Biscuit Factory
On exiting the tube station at
Bermondsey there's one massive escalator that takes you from the platform to
the station level. Unusual for a London underground station is the way it takes
you up in such a stately fashion, through what can only be described as a massive
concrete cathedral. However, unlike the impressive and peerless structures of
the gothic architects, where stone was made to appear weightless, you feel very
acutely the massive bulk of the walls, the tremendous force that they hold up,
and the thick steel reinforcement that keeps the soil and whatever else composes
the substrata of London at bay. And it makes me feel a sense of awe as I
consider the sublime glory of man and machine against the simple weight of the
natural world. In this open cavernous immensity I find myself thinking 'and
that is how far underground I am', for once able to have a sense of place, or
at least a sense of my place as I journey through the thick of things.
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| Entrance of V22 |
What a fitting start then, to an evening which
involves not just cavernous post-industrial spaces, of which V22 is an
excellent example, but of getting a rare sense of one’s overall place in the
matrix of new contemporary art in London. Housed in an old biscuit factory, the
exhibition halls are one side of a massive converted studio complex.
Approaching the small, non-descript entrance it’s hard not to feel dwarfed by
the featureless bricked façade. I cannot emphasise enough how much the
character of the space impacts the feel of the exhibition. This is far from a
white cube, and the scale, drab materiality and sense of emptiness left by
something that was once there, provide an arresting backdrop to the artwork.
The exhibition is comprised of an
entrance hall (including a ‘Fashion line and concept store’ by LuckyPDF), and
two enormous rooms, almost equally divided between darkened space showing video
and projection, and space for sculpture and installation, but apparently not
painting! The closest we come to any painting is the large scale wall works by
Aaron Angell of geometrical shapes
comprised of torn paper ‘collage’. However, it’s also true that this is a space
that isn’t really made for painting, such that its omission could be put down
to a ‘it’s not you it’s me’ kind of excuse.
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Entrance Hall, No Fixed Abode's Sun and
Moon Futures in background |
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| LuckyPDF, S/S 2013 Young London Collection |
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| View of exhibition hall |
I really enjoyed the enormous video
space, and I thought that the large projections by Ciarán Ó Dochartaigh, Hans
Diernberger and David Swan were especially effective. Ó Dochartiagh’s Spigotty Anglease (Odradek)(2011) was
mesmerising. It featured a close-up view of a fishing lure appearing as
decadent and sumptuous as a precious jewel, as well as shots of the dynamic flinging
curves of a line against a backdrop of green.
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| Still from Ciarán Ó Dochartaigh's Spigotty Anglease (Odradek) |
The smaller works on monitors got lost in the
space, and I suspect could have benefited from more controlled viewing. Minae
Kim’s Behind the Scene (2012) (which
I first mistook for lighting), conveniently emitted a soft yellow light over
the entire space, and appeared like a beacon amongst the darkness.
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| Benedict Drew's installation NOW, THING |
Also of note was Hans Diernberger’s
large-scale video projection Jupiter
(2009) which shows a man in a suit standing on ice in front of an industrial fan.
Every minute or so the fan turns on and the suited gentleman is seemingly
pushed many metres away by the gale-force wind. The projection is large enough to be life-sized
and I chose to see this rhythmic expulsion as metaphorical of the distancing of
issues to do with the body or society. This human represented in this video is
a concept, rather than a specificity.Benedict Drew showed NOW, THING (2012) an installation with
video projection, guitar amps and a snare drum which also very humorously viewed
the human as an object among objects, as opposed to assigning him a special
status.
I was disarmed by Samara Scott’s
collection of air fresheners. Anchored next to a column, they became a
jarringly domestic intervention in the space, both in their diminutive scale
and with their faint scent of ‘happy clean home/flower garden’ that contrasted
brilliantly against the grey, concrete floors. I was drawn to her palette of
pastel pinks, oranges and powdery blues on her other sculptures.
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| Air fresheners, part of Samara Scott's me time |
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| Part of Samara Scott's installation |
As I think back to the show, I am left feeling as if
I have just seen a degree show. There is
so much work that is speaking to different concerns that has been placed
together, in a perhaps aesthetically intriguing way, but not necessarily with
intention and respect for the practices of each artist. It is a mash-up at
best, full of ‘interesting moments’ but quite difficult to pin down as a whole.
What is the relevance of this show? What does it say
about the world? What is Young London? Well, they are poor. They use cheap,
often low status, materials. They use video, probably for the same reason, to
greater effect (especially HD). They are done with issues of representation,
have no use for gender politics or social issues at large, but are extremely
sensitive to the fragile and beautiful character of the world around them, or
at least the world accessible to them. They re-use, they salvage (No Fixed Abode,
Sun and Moon Futures, 2012) and set
up their own shops (LuckyPDF).
In focusing on materiality though, I feel as if an
opportunity for the work to take on greater significance has been lost.
Arresting and pretty though many of the pieces were, they didn’t challenge my
perceptions about the world, or make me feel uncomfortable or questioning of my
place in it. At a time when so much social unrest is happening, when we are
being confronted with many important questions about how to move forward, where
are the voices proposing a new future? Unfortunately, I fear they may be broke.
In this modern-day cathedral created out of the death of industry, the
revolution still waits.
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