everything's great! review
Sometimes you get so excited by something you don't know how to react. You want to laugh, run round in circles, sing, jump, tell everyone about it - if only you could articulate one word after another, fall on the floor, shout, wave your arms, laugh and run a whole lot more.
That's exactly how I feel about EVERYTHING'S GREAT! the exhibition from my friends Gary Fisher, Jennifer McDonald, Helen Shanahan, and Louise Woodcock that opened today. I've been buzzing since I saw the work in situ - exploding all over the place. I have no clue how to order the ideas in my head.
But before I try I really must emphasise that you should go to this exhibition. You absolutely have to experience it in the flesh to appreciate it properly. It's in Rochdale, in a vacant retail unit in the Wheatsheaf Shopping Centre. It's open until 4 March, but don't waste time - the sooner you get to see it, the more times you can return.
Right, next, a couple of overheard responses to the exhibition from first a small child, and second from a young teenager:
Urgh! I'm not looking at that. I don't know what it is.
We'll be two minutes. We're just in the Wheatsheaf looking at some freaky stuff.
That gives you some idea of what's on show - but also the fact that the work's attracting the attention and time of people who might not otherwise be interested in art.
And there were a lot of people came through the exhibition today. What's more most of them didn't just come in and run away again. They walked round the space and talked about what they were seeing.
The energy and engagement at the opening was brilliant. I don't think that was just the novelty of something new, I think a lot of it was enabled by the art.
I guess the next thing is to run down my frantic list of notes and expand on them if I can. If I can't I'll just throw them down as a list and you'll still get the idea.
- Also I'm currently having a conversation online, a conversation by text, and I'm listening to The Fall's most recent record. All of which perfectly suits my manic mood, and should help convey how the exhibition feels. It's overwhelming.
There is a sense of fun about the exhibits - a joie de vivre that's unfortunately rare. They have a sense of humour.
But - and I'm a little wary of raising this in case anyone takes it as a reference point - the art isn't kitsch, it isn't pop, it isn't 'after' Jeff Koons. It comes from a more contemporary sensibility, and in response to the location, the available materials, the current political and economic climate, and from the respective practices of the artists which have had time to develop.
And the art isn't taking the piss. It doesn't come from a position of pretended superiority. It comes from a place of warmth, and enthusiasm, and love.
The artists are engaged with the world, and with the art world. All have broad practices that incorporate visual work, installations, and sound. Gary is a sound artist, Jennifer, Helen and Louise are core members of Womb. You may have read something about them here before.
The art too is engaged. It's engaged in a way I find tremendously exciting - and it's only now occurred to me why that is. Unlike the 1980's cliche of art engaged with politics by saying 'Fuck you!' or 'Down with Thatcher!' this is a much more devastating engagement.
Rather than giving politicians and anonymous corporations any attention this is art than dances and sparkles despite them. It says 'Fuck you!' by living brightly on its own terms. Surely being ignored by people and art that burn more beautifully than you could ever imagine is far more of an insult that being cast as an oppressor.
The art is bright and vivid, alive. Individual works - Helen's geese, Jennifer's commode, Gary's lamp, Louise's lion - are striking, but more than just their surface. Collectively the pieces bring even greater life to the others.
The space vibrates and sparks, and there's always more to see.
Hang on. I forgot to say that I can't remember ever being as excited by an exhibition as I am by this one. I mentioned it on Facebook, and to a few people, but I don't think I wrote it here. Let me say it again, so there's no doubt:
I can't remember ever being as excited by an exhibition as I am by this one.
That's better.
Next in my list of notes are a bunch of disconnected words. Like this: Colour // Imagination // Child-like // Subversive // Playful // Funny + Serious // Made me incredibly happy //
It did too. I was beaming all the time I was there, all the time I was on the train traveling back, all the time I walked back across town, and even now nearly five hours after I left. I must have looked proper mental.
The colour is self-explanatory - see the pictures here. None of them as good as I'd like, but I'm going back. I have to.
But it's colour as emotional and intellectual colour as well. A three-dimensionality to the work that I think is especially apparent since you have four people with distinct sensibilities bouncing off each other.
Imagination in the repurposing of discarded items in a discarded space. Imagination in seeing potential and exploring that. Imagination in realising you can sometimes make the strongest statement of all by not going out of your way to make an 'important' statement.
In my own personal worldview being child-like - that is, viewing the world with an innocence and enthusiasm - being playful, and the joie de vivre I mentioned earlier, are all vital to living a mentally healthy life.
They go hand-in-hand with openness, with love, with imagination, with an willingness to try new experience.
I see all these as positive attributes. And I see them in the exhibition.
What does that leave? Oh, subversive. Do you really need me to explain that?
Well okay then. Go back to the overheard quotes earlier. Look at the pictures. The art is visually massively appealing. But at the same time when you get close to some of it, it becomes more disturbing, unsettling, or just potentially unpleasant or upsetting. I don't find it troubling, but I can see it will repulse some people - hopefully at the same time as attracting them.
I mentioned to Jennifer and Louise that it would be interesting to see the collision of this sensibility against the contrasting sensibility of Womb. The music has become quite heavy and dark, intense in an introspective and purposely transcendental way.
Imagine what might come of the tension between that physical, meditative intensity, and the lurid, witty extravagance of these works. Make it happen.
Excuse me...
Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!!
In fact...
This is a genuinely thrilling and exciting show that transcends its circumstances. It lifts these four artists from the talented and potentially lasting into the downright fucking brilliant.
The self-same elements in the same location in the hands of lesser artists could be utterly depressing. Or seem unambitious or a little sad. But they don't. The thought didn't even occur to me while I was in the space. The art lights the space, it lights your brain - it's incredibly special.
I'm still buzzing, still happy. And that's happy as in happy happy. Not happy tinged with any sad or nostalgic or jealous emotions. Just pure unalloyed happy - HAPPY! - all on its own.
Which isn't to say the work doesn't explore dark or troubling or transgressive or adult ideas. It absolutely does all that, and does it incredibly well. And that's part of what's so uplifting about it.
You may notice I'm not talking about specific works, or about which artist produced specific pictures. I'm not talking about the themes the artists say they are exploring. I've only posted photos of a few of the exhibits. I didn't manages to take pictures of everything as it happens.
I want you to look at the photos, to experience my personal, subjective enthusiasm, and then go along to the exhibition and make up your own mind.
That last bit about going to the exhibition is the important part of that paragraph by the way.
So, reactions.
I've already touched on them. The two quotes were from children looking at Jennifer's commode (third photo from the top), and Louise's lion (fifth photo) respectively.
They indicate the simultaneous attraction and repulsion of the art for both adults and children. The sense that something is a bit wrong with these things, even as you find yourself drawn to them.
A lot of people took a lot of photographs. And I'm sure that's not just because it was the opening. It's the visually appealing nature of the work. The subtlety as well as the colour, the childishly satisfying shapes, and the energy of it all.
Personally - even though I had no involvement in the making of the show - it is a massive confidence boost. It's a reaffirmation of what I've felt for a while, and especially since returning from China, that risk is crucial.
If you play safe and procrastinate you'll be dead before you do the things you want.
This exhibition embraces life in all its complexity, in all its glory and shittiness, all its beauty and fear, and chooses to dance with it. Go along and join in that dance.
That's the important thing - go to the exhibition. Sure, the pictures tell you something. Sure, my ravings tell you something. But nothing, nothing, nothing matches the experience of actually being there.
That's exactly how I feel about EVERYTHING'S GREAT! the exhibition from my friends Gary Fisher, Jennifer McDonald, Helen Shanahan, and Louise Woodcock that opened today. I've been buzzing since I saw the work in situ - exploding all over the place. I have no clue how to order the ideas in my head.
But before I try I really must emphasise that you should go to this exhibition. You absolutely have to experience it in the flesh to appreciate it properly. It's in Rochdale, in a vacant retail unit in the Wheatsheaf Shopping Centre. It's open until 4 March, but don't waste time - the sooner you get to see it, the more times you can return.
Right, next, a couple of overheard responses to the exhibition from first a small child, and second from a young teenager:
Urgh! I'm not looking at that. I don't know what it is.
We'll be two minutes. We're just in the Wheatsheaf looking at some freaky stuff.
That gives you some idea of what's on show - but also the fact that the work's attracting the attention and time of people who might not otherwise be interested in art.
And there were a lot of people came through the exhibition today. What's more most of them didn't just come in and run away again. They walked round the space and talked about what they were seeing.
The energy and engagement at the opening was brilliant. I don't think that was just the novelty of something new, I think a lot of it was enabled by the art.
I guess the next thing is to run down my frantic list of notes and expand on them if I can. If I can't I'll just throw them down as a list and you'll still get the idea.
- Also I'm currently having a conversation online, a conversation by text, and I'm listening to The Fall's most recent record. All of which perfectly suits my manic mood, and should help convey how the exhibition feels. It's overwhelming.
There is a sense of fun about the exhibits - a joie de vivre that's unfortunately rare. They have a sense of humour.
But - and I'm a little wary of raising this in case anyone takes it as a reference point - the art isn't kitsch, it isn't pop, it isn't 'after' Jeff Koons. It comes from a more contemporary sensibility, and in response to the location, the available materials, the current political and economic climate, and from the respective practices of the artists which have had time to develop.
And the art isn't taking the piss. It doesn't come from a position of pretended superiority. It comes from a place of warmth, and enthusiasm, and love.
The artists are engaged with the world, and with the art world. All have broad practices that incorporate visual work, installations, and sound. Gary is a sound artist, Jennifer, Helen and Louise are core members of Womb. You may have read something about them here before.
The art too is engaged. It's engaged in a way I find tremendously exciting - and it's only now occurred to me why that is. Unlike the 1980's cliche of art engaged with politics by saying 'Fuck you!' or 'Down with Thatcher!' this is a much more devastating engagement.
Rather than giving politicians and anonymous corporations any attention this is art than dances and sparkles despite them. It says 'Fuck you!' by living brightly on its own terms. Surely being ignored by people and art that burn more beautifully than you could ever imagine is far more of an insult that being cast as an oppressor.
The art is bright and vivid, alive. Individual works - Helen's geese, Jennifer's commode, Gary's lamp, Louise's lion - are striking, but more than just their surface. Collectively the pieces bring even greater life to the others.
The space vibrates and sparks, and there's always more to see.
Hang on. I forgot to say that I can't remember ever being as excited by an exhibition as I am by this one. I mentioned it on Facebook, and to a few people, but I don't think I wrote it here. Let me say it again, so there's no doubt:
I can't remember ever being as excited by an exhibition as I am by this one.
That's better.
Next in my list of notes are a bunch of disconnected words. Like this: Colour // Imagination // Child-like // Subversive // Playful // Funny + Serious // Made me incredibly happy //
It did too. I was beaming all the time I was there, all the time I was on the train traveling back, all the time I walked back across town, and even now nearly five hours after I left. I must have looked proper mental.
The colour is self-explanatory - see the pictures here. None of them as good as I'd like, but I'm going back. I have to.
But it's colour as emotional and intellectual colour as well. A three-dimensionality to the work that I think is especially apparent since you have four people with distinct sensibilities bouncing off each other.
Imagination in the repurposing of discarded items in a discarded space. Imagination in seeing potential and exploring that. Imagination in realising you can sometimes make the strongest statement of all by not going out of your way to make an 'important' statement.
In my own personal worldview being child-like - that is, viewing the world with an innocence and enthusiasm - being playful, and the joie de vivre I mentioned earlier, are all vital to living a mentally healthy life.
They go hand-in-hand with openness, with love, with imagination, with an willingness to try new experience.
I see all these as positive attributes. And I see them in the exhibition.
What does that leave? Oh, subversive. Do you really need me to explain that?
Well okay then. Go back to the overheard quotes earlier. Look at the pictures. The art is visually massively appealing. But at the same time when you get close to some of it, it becomes more disturbing, unsettling, or just potentially unpleasant or upsetting. I don't find it troubling, but I can see it will repulse some people - hopefully at the same time as attracting them.
I mentioned to Jennifer and Louise that it would be interesting to see the collision of this sensibility against the contrasting sensibility of Womb. The music has become quite heavy and dark, intense in an introspective and purposely transcendental way.
Imagine what might come of the tension between that physical, meditative intensity, and the lurid, witty extravagance of these works. Make it happen.
Excuse me...
Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!!
In fact...
Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!!
That's better. Just had to let out some of the joy before my head exploded.
Phew.
This is a genuinely thrilling and exciting show that transcends its circumstances. It lifts these four artists from the talented and potentially lasting into the downright fucking brilliant.
The self-same elements in the same location in the hands of lesser artists could be utterly depressing. Or seem unambitious or a little sad. But they don't. The thought didn't even occur to me while I was in the space. The art lights the space, it lights your brain - it's incredibly special.
I'm still buzzing, still happy. And that's happy as in happy happy. Not happy tinged with any sad or nostalgic or jealous emotions. Just pure unalloyed happy - HAPPY! - all on its own.
Which isn't to say the work doesn't explore dark or troubling or transgressive or adult ideas. It absolutely does all that, and does it incredibly well. And that's part of what's so uplifting about it.
You may notice I'm not talking about specific works, or about which artist produced specific pictures. I'm not talking about the themes the artists say they are exploring. I've only posted photos of a few of the exhibits. I didn't manages to take pictures of everything as it happens.
I want you to look at the photos, to experience my personal, subjective enthusiasm, and then go along to the exhibition and make up your own mind.
That last bit about going to the exhibition is the important part of that paragraph by the way.
So, reactions.
I've already touched on them. The two quotes were from children looking at Jennifer's commode (third photo from the top), and Louise's lion (fifth photo) respectively.
They indicate the simultaneous attraction and repulsion of the art for both adults and children. The sense that something is a bit wrong with these things, even as you find yourself drawn to them.
A lot of people took a lot of photographs. And I'm sure that's not just because it was the opening. It's the visually appealing nature of the work. The subtlety as well as the colour, the childishly satisfying shapes, and the energy of it all.
Personally - even though I had no involvement in the making of the show - it is a massive confidence boost. It's a reaffirmation of what I've felt for a while, and especially since returning from China, that risk is crucial.
If you play safe and procrastinate you'll be dead before you do the things you want.
This exhibition embraces life in all its complexity, in all its glory and shittiness, all its beauty and fear, and chooses to dance with it. Go along and join in that dance.
That's the important thing - go to the exhibition. Sure, the pictures tell you something. Sure, my ravings tell you something. But nothing, nothing, nothing matches the experience of actually being there.
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