paul harfleet + david hoyle: from queer to eternity review
Some time after the fact a review of Paul Harfleet and David Hoyle's From Queer To Eternity at Four Piccadilly Place.
Like the Queer Art show at Kraak this was another low-key, quiet show with a high impact. My initial thoughts on this have been posted to my journal but I hope I can usefully expand on them here.
There were of course only the two artists represented here as opposed to the ten or so at Kraak. Consequently - and with a much larger and starker space - it also felt like a smaller show, increasing the sense of something low-key.
Rather than attempt to fill the entire space the works were arranged in a central space where partitions had been arranged - from memory in an F shape, with the entrance behind the upright, and the windows of the space on the opposite side.
That upright - the partition facing you as you entered - carried the name of the exhibition, and to the left a framed photograph of one of Paul Harfleet's Pansy Project plantings. The image - here - showing apoppy pansy* in front of the British Consulate in Istanbul planted to mark a homophobic statement by the Turkish State Minister.
[* Heh! Thanks Paul for letting me know about this typo.]
There was an interesting contrast between the works of the two artists. Each of which also related to the space in slightly different ways - at least partly determined by the way they were exhibited.
Paul Harfleet's smaller, more discreet works were on the outside of the partitions - the upright and outside of the upper part of the F. Because they faced the space - and despite the small scale, and more obvious need for decoding - Harfleet's pieces felt like they were engaged in a dialogue with a wider social and political world than the gallery.
David Hoyle's larger, more extrovert appearing works were on the other surfaces. Because they faced inwards and faced themselves - and despite the apparently looser, freer execution, and seeming self-exposure - Hoyle's works felt like much more personal pieces.
Of course all these impressions can be deceptive.
Most of Paul Harfleet's works were on the other outer partition - at right angles to the partition facing as you entered (the upper part of the F) - or on four plinths opposite it. There were three small, detailed, largely monochrome paintings (with some gilding) of mobile truck-mounted cranes. These were echoed by a plinth with small manufacturer's models of the same three cranes - and from memory another plinth with a larger model of one of the cranes.
Clearly there was some significance to these - perhaps hinted at by the Pansy Project photo, by the photograph of a half-naked child (the artist in younger days) framed and under glass on which the words 'Fucking Faggot' were etched, and by the two outer plinths. The far plinth nearest the window and the childhood photograph had a model tree from which hung a golden noose. The near plinth closest to the entrance had a model gallows made from matches.
The juxtaposition of the care and beauty of the work and its execution with the homophobic abuse, the mechanical nature of the subject matter, and the presence of two nooses suggested something troubling, perhaps obsessive.
Spoiler: skip the following paragraph if you don't want an explanation of the work.
According to the brief guide the artist gave which I listened in on the cranes were used in Iran in the public hanging of gay men in 2005. At the time of writing details of the exhibition and works including this are on the artist's blog but may have moved by the time you read this. But check out the blog anyway - it's great.
There was a real sense of restraint and menace about the works collectively, though individually some were simply beautiful or enigmatic. Even without the explanation the pieces would have been unsettling and stuck in the mind.
David Hoyle's pieces seem to be more direct. They were mainly collages of images and text from newspapers, flyers, gig tickets, train tickets, receipts and other materials on large sheets of paper which had then been overpainted with text and slightly cartoonish images of faces and figures.
When I say cartoonish I don't mean that as a criticism. In my journal I say that I was surprised by the quality of draughtmanship shown. I don't know why this should be so - but obviously I had some idea in mind that Hoyle's work would be less controlled than it is.
The main exception to this approach was a piece of text split into three sections each painted over the other a different colour. It was just about readable, and I'm pretty confident I was able to read it in the right order. That in itself is testament to the skill of the artist. There were a couple of other pieces that were all text, but not using the same technique of layering.
Hoyle's work seemed to be about mental health problems. And since much of the text was first-person, and many of the faces resembled the artist, there was a clear temptation if not invitation to read the works as auobiographical. But despite this there was something ultimately hopeful and uplifting about them. Perhaps it was the colours and the execution - or perhaps it was that mysterious thing that sometimes happens when unpleasant experience is turned into art and becomes somehow defiant and/or celebratory.
I thought it was a very strong show. I won't attempt a comparison between this and the show at Kraak because the spaces, the artists, the structure of the shows, the level of exposure of the artists are all different. Both were simultaneously personal and politically engaged. But it isn't really possible to say one was better than the other, each did different things. Overall I found the Kraak show richer, but you'd expect that comparing any show with ten artists against another with just two.
Like the Queer Art show at Kraak this was another low-key, quiet show with a high impact. My initial thoughts on this have been posted to my journal but I hope I can usefully expand on them here.
There were of course only the two artists represented here as opposed to the ten or so at Kraak. Consequently - and with a much larger and starker space - it also felt like a smaller show, increasing the sense of something low-key.
Rather than attempt to fill the entire space the works were arranged in a central space where partitions had been arranged - from memory in an F shape, with the entrance behind the upright, and the windows of the space on the opposite side.
That upright - the partition facing you as you entered - carried the name of the exhibition, and to the left a framed photograph of one of Paul Harfleet's Pansy Project plantings. The image - here - showing a
[* Heh! Thanks Paul for letting me know about this typo.]
There was an interesting contrast between the works of the two artists. Each of which also related to the space in slightly different ways - at least partly determined by the way they were exhibited.
Paul Harfleet's smaller, more discreet works were on the outside of the partitions - the upright and outside of the upper part of the F. Because they faced the space - and despite the small scale, and more obvious need for decoding - Harfleet's pieces felt like they were engaged in a dialogue with a wider social and political world than the gallery.
David Hoyle's larger, more extrovert appearing works were on the other surfaces. Because they faced inwards and faced themselves - and despite the apparently looser, freer execution, and seeming self-exposure - Hoyle's works felt like much more personal pieces.
Of course all these impressions can be deceptive.
Most of Paul Harfleet's works were on the other outer partition - at right angles to the partition facing as you entered (the upper part of the F) - or on four plinths opposite it. There were three small, detailed, largely monochrome paintings (with some gilding) of mobile truck-mounted cranes. These were echoed by a plinth with small manufacturer's models of the same three cranes - and from memory another plinth with a larger model of one of the cranes.
Clearly there was some significance to these - perhaps hinted at by the Pansy Project photo, by the photograph of a half-naked child (the artist in younger days) framed and under glass on which the words 'Fucking Faggot' were etched, and by the two outer plinths. The far plinth nearest the window and the childhood photograph had a model tree from which hung a golden noose. The near plinth closest to the entrance had a model gallows made from matches.
The juxtaposition of the care and beauty of the work and its execution with the homophobic abuse, the mechanical nature of the subject matter, and the presence of two nooses suggested something troubling, perhaps obsessive.
Spoiler: skip the following paragraph if you don't want an explanation of the work.
According to the brief guide the artist gave which I listened in on the cranes were used in Iran in the public hanging of gay men in 2005. At the time of writing details of the exhibition and works including this are on the artist's blog but may have moved by the time you read this. But check out the blog anyway - it's great.
There was a real sense of restraint and menace about the works collectively, though individually some were simply beautiful or enigmatic. Even without the explanation the pieces would have been unsettling and stuck in the mind.
David Hoyle's pieces seem to be more direct. They were mainly collages of images and text from newspapers, flyers, gig tickets, train tickets, receipts and other materials on large sheets of paper which had then been overpainted with text and slightly cartoonish images of faces and figures.
When I say cartoonish I don't mean that as a criticism. In my journal I say that I was surprised by the quality of draughtmanship shown. I don't know why this should be so - but obviously I had some idea in mind that Hoyle's work would be less controlled than it is.
The main exception to this approach was a piece of text split into three sections each painted over the other a different colour. It was just about readable, and I'm pretty confident I was able to read it in the right order. That in itself is testament to the skill of the artist. There were a couple of other pieces that were all text, but not using the same technique of layering.
Hoyle's work seemed to be about mental health problems. And since much of the text was first-person, and many of the faces resembled the artist, there was a clear temptation if not invitation to read the works as auobiographical. But despite this there was something ultimately hopeful and uplifting about them. Perhaps it was the colours and the execution - or perhaps it was that mysterious thing that sometimes happens when unpleasant experience is turned into art and becomes somehow defiant and/or celebratory.
I thought it was a very strong show. I won't attempt a comparison between this and the show at Kraak because the spaces, the artists, the structure of the shows, the level of exposure of the artists are all different. Both were simultaneously personal and politically engaged. But it isn't really possible to say one was better than the other, each did different things. Overall I found the Kraak show richer, but you'd expect that comparing any show with ten artists against another with just two.
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