‘Colour, Vibrancy and Life’

A Review of ‘Surface, Sensuality and Desire’ at arc Gallery

Titus Agbara, How I Wish (2004)

Set against the bitter cold night, arc Gallery stood like a merry beacon on the evening of November 25th 2010, for the private view of ‘Surface, Sensuality and Desire’. Despite the arctic atmosphere outside, inside Belle Barge the gallery was packed to the rafters with excited art lovers. In fact, the evening turned out to be quite possibly the most well attended private view we have had thus far. This impressive turnout despite adverse conditions was testament to both arc Gallery’s visitors and the high calibre of the works on display which drew them to the exhibition in the first place.

Azubuike Ani, Enchanted (2010)

‘Surface, Sensuality and Desire’ showcased the works of six London artists: Azubuike Ani, Titus Agbara, Glory Charles, Edward Ofosu, Shallman Quashie and Olu Shobowale. Indeed, the fact that this is the first exhibition to be produced by arc Gallery featuring work by more than one artist was a major talking point of the private view. Edward Ofosu praised the curatory process, commenting on what he called the ‘strength of the collection’ and the seeming ‘unity in parts’ despite the disparate artistic approaches of all six artists, who each endowed their work with their own narratives, ideologies and cultural perspectives. Tay Tulloch, who last visited arc in order to see Mary Osinibi’s ‘Time Waits For No-One’, found that she much preferred this exhibition precisely because it featured more than one artist. She commented that ‘galleries are too often thought of simply being “houses” for artwork. I don’t think people often realise that the way in which the gallery arranges and presents the works to the public has considerable impact on how the work is perceived’. I heartily agreed, because it is certainly true that one of the most interesting aspects of the gallery’s presentation of work is the way in which, within a single space, art is usually arranged according to one of three doctrines:  by artist or artistic movement, by  subject matter , or finally, by theme. These three different modes of arrangement all create different atmospheres and have varying effects on the viewer. Displaying works by the same artist in close proximity to each other may indeed be the most widespread of these practices, but I for one am not convinced this is the best approach to foster optimum appreciation in the viewer. This is because, unless the artists’ works are radically heterogeneous as a collection in themselves, there is an arguable sense of monotony and ‘sameness’ that arises due to lack of visual challenge: a condition that  the former Secretary of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, Benjamin Ives Gilman , refers to as ‘museum fatigue’. At the other end of the spectrum, in a thematic exhibition like ‘Surface, Sensuality and Desire’, where the works of different artists are situated in relation to each other, the viewer is being actively encouraged to make comparisons and connections between works. A thematic arrangement moreover allows these comparisons and connections to be made on a much deeper level than aesthetic resemblance, thus ‘museum fatigue’ is far less likely to occur in the average viewer. 

The six artists (L-R): Titus, Olu, Azubuike, Shallman, Edward and Glory

‘Surface, Sensuality and Desire’ is, moreover, our first exhibition since Jean Joseph’s ‘We’ve Already Paid’ back in June this year, to feature three-dimensional works. Some viewers were particularly pleased by this fact, arguing that sculpture is so fundamentally ingrained within the history of art in African, whereas painting, it may be proposed, is essential ‘borrowed’ from more Anglo-European traditions. Thus whilst the painted works of Azubuike Ani and Glory Charles won praise for their unplaced cotextlessnes and engagement with mythological and fantasy genres, quite understandably, it was Olu Shobowale's sculptural installation piece, Glorious, that by far garnered the most attention and speculation at the private view. A six-foot high throne comprised entirely of animal bones and sawdust, his work that took pride of place in the centre of the gallery space where visitors were invited to take the position of royalty upon the throne. Most often, utter amazement and disbelieve was expressed at a piece made of such brittle and fragile materials being able to effortlessly support significant weights. In this and other respects, it was well noted that Glorious has that ‘magical’ quality that epitomises something being inexplicably ‘greater than the sum of its parts’. His smaller piece, Cinderella, a high-heeled shoe comprised of the same materials, cannot be overlooked however. It certainly captivated mosaic artist Jackie Mwanza, who discussed with me why it might have been appropriate to sculpt this particular shape in these particular materials. We postulated whether it could be that, at the end of the day, when all arguments about beauty, self-esteem and female empowerment have worn away, the fundamental purpose of a woman donning a pair of high-heeled shoes is to create a more sexualised posture by forcing the breasts forward, buttocks out. Therefore, to see a high-heeled shoe comprised of animal bones may act as an aide-memoir of the fact that our own carnal instincts may underpin more aspects of our lives that we would perhaps like to admit. As such, is its quite remarkable how, in one fell swoop, a small singular object can encapsulate the heady and mystifying triumvirate of fairytales, sex and romantic expectation. Indeed, early in the evening I spoke to Olu who explained to me that his penchant for animal bones as an artist medium springs from both their physical properties (which combines both resilience and pliability) and their hectic fusion of symbolic reverberations, including death, sacrifice, life, natural variation and endless potentiality.

Olu Shobowale, Cinderella (2010)

Aside from Olu’s sculptures, I have to admit that my favourite works were those produced by Shallman Quashie. What I particular admire is his use of colour, which is discordant, visually jarring and, in places, positively gaudy: all those terms which are traditionally meant as slights but I actually believe to be compliments. During the evening he explained to me that he ‘is not interested in “colour rules”’, referring to what is usually termed ‘colour theory’. Instead, he fervently believes that ‘your mind and imagination will let you know which colours go together’. Shallman has also won a fan in fellow artist Glory Charles, who particularly esteemed the way in which Shallman postures the human frame in order to create symmetrical balance in a work such as Midnight Bliss. It was also noted that the blue tones of the piece, idealised feminine form and rippled and flowing hair of the female figure suggest the influence of traditional depictions of mermaids. What I would add to this is to say that this, whether the figure is intended to be under water or not, these all add together to create is an overwhelming sense of an intoxicated submergence: a feeling that, in a sense, the viewer’s perception is distorted because they are ‘drowning in desire’. Overall, Midnight Bliss positively embodies all those things that Shallman states as inspiring his work – ‘colours, vibrancy and life’ – which seems to be to be a fitting epitaph for this exhibition in its entirety.

Shalman Quashie, Midnight Bliss (2010)

All the artists featured in this exhibition are comparatively young and in the early stages of their careers. For example, the private view held particular significance for Olu, as, although his work has been on public display before, it was the first time his work had been situated within a gallery context, by which I mean space specifically designed for the displaying of artworks. Local musician Kevin LeGendre accredited this to what he termed ‘the spirit and ethos of arc Gallery’, by which he meant a drive to provide exposure for new artists and a desire to showcase the previously overlooked and neglected. He felt that this ethos moreover escalated upwards to cover the concept of the exhibition itself. He argued that sensuousness, desire and eroticism in African art is a topic that has been largely neglected, perhaps, he felt, even feared in the art world. This was something which hadn’t actually crossed my mind whilst working on the exhibition prior to the opening night, however upon further reflection and with Kevin’s comments in mind, I began to realise that ‘Surface, Sensuality and Desire’ is perhaps, in its own quiet way, the most radical, most courageous exhibition to have been held at arc this past year. I now believe that this exhibition truly does encapsulate the way in which arc Gallery is indeed a ‘point of departure’ from narrow and limited views pertaining to art of any kind. Therefore, here’s to arc continuing to push, challenge and re-evaluate boundaries of all kinds in all forthcoming 2011 endeavours.

Edward Ofosu, Who Am I? (2009)

Christopher Yiannitsaros
arc Writer and Researcher

To view the brochure for this exhibition, click here.

To view a short video documentary on Obu Shobowale's Glorious, click here.

‘From Making Marks to Broadening Minds’

A Review of ‘Headload’ at the arc Gallery

Blessed with an unexpected spate of unseasonably warm weather, the evening of September 16th 2010 saw the opening of ‘Headload’: an exhibition of works by Onyema Offoedu-Okeke in which the human body is metaphorically transformed into an economic vehicle. The show featured both paintings and tonal sketches prompting regular arc visitor, London artist Edward Ofosu, to comment how much he admired seeing two entirely different artistic approaches to the same theme. In particular, he was most impressed with the fact that Offoedu-Okeke was able to create such complex images with simple pen and paper sketching, which is perhaps one of the first and most basic forms of ‘mark making’ that art students are taught how to master. Ultimately, for Edward, Offoedu-Okeke’s work acts as an aide-memoir of the fact that there is more to life than modern material objects. Indeed, even that there is a certain kind of beauty in toil and hard work.

 Head Posts (of Entableture) (2009)

Indeed, Laura Cockburn agreed with this and, moreover, what above all else pleased her was the way in which the exhibition had been framed and contextualised. As she explained to me, the images themselves – with their bright, almost luminous colours and strong bold shapes – could have easily leant themselves to more of a political-propaganda inspired framing. In other words, they could have been used in order to make an overt and direct criticism on global economic structures and the indifference of the consequences suffered by less economically developed countries by the ‘progress’ of the world’s economic ‘big-guns’. But that is categorically not what ‘Headload’ is about. Instead, Offedu–Okeke’s work commemorates the unfathomable nature of the human spirit in its astonishing flexibility in acclimatising to periods of economic tribulation - a sentiment particularly relevant in the present moment in recent history.

I also spoke to Wendy Charlton who will shortly be assisting arc in our Olympic themed youth project. As a community artist and art tutor herself, Wendy could not help but engage in attempting to deconstruct Offoedu-Okeke’s technique: a process that she also referred to as a ‘deciphering of layers’. This lexical choice seemed to me to be highly appropriate because, as I have noted elsewhere, Offoedu-Okeke’s painted canvases are highly concerned with topographies of surfaces and depths. As Wendy explained to me, in a piece such as Alternative Shoe Industry, if we look hard enough we can still discern visible traces of the artist’s conduction lines, followed by at least one layer of ‘flat’ colour, which is then topped by the final layer of colour which has been applied with a brush or possibility another implement in order to create a highly textured finish that resembles the look of a woven rug. Along with many of the other visitors to the exhibition, she also noted that, in his quasi-pointalistic approach, there is something of an optical illusion going on in Offoedu-Okeke’s art that links it very strongly to an artist like Chris Ofili. This is so in that, from a significant distance, his work displays a recognisable image of a person with a particular object atop their head. However, the closer you get to the canvas itself, the more this identifiable image disappears, instead dissolving into drips and drabs of solid colour. Indeed, this is certainly the case for one of my favourite pieces of the show, Okwo-Mma I (Chainsaw Masquerade). What I particularly admired about this image was the intricate interplay between the warmly hued debased baroque swirls of the background and the barcode-like, steely vertical lines in the foreground. 

 Okwo-Mma I (Chainsaw Masquerade) (2009)

I also had a very interesting discussion with Evelyn Owen, who is currently undertaking a PhD at Queen Mary, University of London on issues surrounding the contemporary African art scene. I asked her whether, within the contemporary art scene as a whole, the work of African artists is really as marginalised and neglected as we tend to assume: ‘It depends what you mean by marginalised’ she answered, going on to explain that there is masses of information, exhibitions and events that seems to suggest that African market is currently thriving. However, since it is imperative to her studies for her to actively seek out such things, she acknowledged that, to the so-called ‘ordinary’ art lover, these kinds of things may prove significantly more elusive, which does indeed suggest a certain degree of marginalisation within the contemporary art scene as a whole. She also noted the unfortunate absence of Offoedu-Okeke himself from the exhibition and I posed to her whether this made any discernable difference to the way she, as a viewer, ‘consumed’ the art on offer at this private view? ‘Oh, you mean like “The Death of the Author” and all that?’, she answered, referring of course poststructuralist critic, Roland Barthes, famous essay on increasingly incredulity towards authorial intention. In contrast to previous modes of literary criticism, Barthes instead argues that ‘To give a text an Author is to impose a limit on that text, to furnish it with a final signified, to close the writing’ and, indeed, the same could very well be argued about visual ‘texts’, as there is still, to a certain degree, a tendency to position the artist as a reverent and Godly figure whose history, cultural values, religious beliefs, psychological makeup is responsible for furnishing the given artwork with its intended ‘meaning’. Thus, for me, it would have been highly interesting to observe, if Offoedu-Okeke would have been able to be present at the private view, whether this would have altered the way in which the works themselves were received. Would having Offoedu-Okeke there explaining to people about his creations have been enlightening and improved viewer appreciation? Or conversely, would it have been a hindrance that disabled viewers from arriving at their own interpretations of the art?

Kettle Head (2009)

We were also privileged at the private view to have in our midst Sharon Grant, who has extensive experience in local government, is a keen supporter of the arts, and was instrumental in the establishing of the nearby Bernie Grant Arts Centre, which opened in 2007. Sharon spoke to me of her intense belief that art can and should be used as a means of creating solidarity in communities, and that a cultural project such as arc goes a long way towards bringing that about. In other words, that, in a borough such as Haringey, which is such richly multicultural, exposure to, and embarrassing of, art and artefacts from a originating from a culture or tradition which may not necessarily be your own can only ever be a beneficial and mind-broadening experience, teaching you to value culture that different and not to not intimidated by it. She moreover felt it was of critical importance that young people in particular get to experience and reap the benefits of the multilingual, multicultural society of big cities like London, as it affords them so many opportunities an older generation may not have been privy to. And finally, on the subject of opportunities for local youths, here is perhaps the most appropriate place to thank the young local jazz trio – who first joined us on the opening night of Mary Osinibi’s ‘Time Waits for No-one’ exhibition – for their hard work and accomplished talent in again providing such an enjoyable ambiance to the private view of ‘Headload’.

Christopher Yiannitsaros

arc Writer and Researcher

To view the brochure for this exhibition, please click here.

‘... and There Will Be Time’

A Review of ‘Time Waits for No-one’ at the arc Gallery

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

Petals on a wet, black bough.

Ezra Pound, ‘In a Station of the Metro’ (1913) 
(Above Image: Mary Osinibi, Rush Hour, 2010)

For much of the twentieth century, photography has been positioned as the black sheep of the art world: the less-talented cousin of painting, sculpture and installation art. Indeed, ever since the invention of early forms of photography in the mid-nineteenth century there has always been a stigma attached to the art form. Most famously perhaps, the French poet, philosopher and art critic Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) despised photography, seeing it as merely product of capitalism and industry. It was his contention that photography provided an impression of reality that did not have the 'spiritual momentum' which is the product of a genuinely artistic imagination. Whilst reviewing a photographic exhibition in 1859, he commented that:

‘[Photography’s] true duty is to be the servant of the sciences and arts - but the very humble servant [...] But if it is allowed to encroach upon the domain of the [...] imaginary, upon anything whose value depends solely upon the addition of something of a man's soul, then it will be so much the worse for us’

Thankfully, in the early-twenty first century things have progressed somewhat and, indeed, the evening of Thursday 15th July 2010 saw the private viewing of arc’s first solely photographic exhibition of the year: ‘Time Wait’s for No-one’, a recent body of work by the London-based photographer Mary Osinibi. Indeed, one of the most frequent comments given to me at the viewing was just how great it was to see an exhibition celebrating what was a previously marginalised art form.

Ade Omolaja, a fellow photographer, explained to me that, for him, there were two ways of looking at the images on display, and whilst both ways of seeing informed each other, they were nevertheless different. The first ‘pull’ of each photo is quite simply its appeal as an image – its subject, its composition, its colours, and so on – but that it subsequently has a second ‘pull’ which is its appeal as a work of photography. Indeed, the mechanics of Osinibi’s work are quite interesting, as her images look as if they have been manipulated using imaging software on a computer, but in fact they have most assuredly not been. Instead, their striking effects were created simply though physical movement and experiments with shutter speeds and by deliberate under and over-exposure. Furthermore, the final images can actually be quite deceptive in terms of the way in they have been created. For instance, in a piece such as Run, in which it looks as if the photograph has been taken with one of the two central figures moving briskly, in actual fact, as the artist herself detailed to me, it was shot with the figure moving in slow motion. Ultimately, this time-consuming artistic process certainly undermines Baudelaire’s notion of photography as merely an act of recoding what we see rather than creating what we see.

Run

The work in this collection is centred on the theme of time and its passage, and, as one viewer commented to be, this can be interpreted either positively or negatively ‘depending on where you are personally in the time landscape’. However, not everyone was convinced by the works on display as a body of work in itself. Photographer Chris Coekin commented that, although it is great that Osinibi, ‘doesn’t compromise on what makes her work visually interesting’, there is a visual disparateness about the works on display, making it difficult to identify this as a single collection, which is precisely what it has been advertised as. That, unlike past exhibitions at arc, such as ‘Elegant Urban Decay’ or ‘Much Strings Attached’, the connections between the pieces on display, both aesthetic and thematic, are not as ‘tight’. This observation, I feel, is both a fair and interesting point. However, several counterarguments also spring to mind.  Firstly, this loss of cohesion could simply be due to the fact that it is a photographic exhibition, and so it is just simply harder for the viewer to identify those idiosyncratic artistic techniques that mark the work as belonging to that particular artist – Nyemike Onwuka’s burnishing of his canvases, Jean Joseph’s purposefully two-dimensional and featureless figures, Uchay Joel Chima’s lacelike interweaving. Secondly, with all pieces in some way related to the notion of the passage of time, it is arguable that of all the exhibitions held at arc thus far this year, Osinibi has set herself the most abstract, complicated and ambitious thematic framework to work within. Thus, it is not surprising that this theme has inevitably produced such heterogeneous and contrasting pieces, because time itself is so radically heterogeneous, even towards itself.  

Indeed, for me, the exhibition’s overarching thematic concerns are most succinctly manifested in Osinibi’s attempts to create/capture the fleeting, the ephemeral and the transitory. Jean Joseph has noted Osinibi’s preoccupation with the horror movie genre and, I would contend, that these two interests come to a head in a piece such as Green Dress which depicts a young woman in a green dress as she turns her head around to face the camera whilst climbing a degraded looking flight of outdoor stairs in the light of a streetlamp. There is an incredible sense of danger evoked by the piece, predominantly due to the fact that the narrative possibility opened up by the image is what precisely will happen to the woman when she reaches the top of the stair? Which one of the various and increasing dangers of modern urban life awaits for her just beyond our field of vision (which has itself been disempoweringly limited by the walls that line the stair)?

Green Dress

One of the pieces that was most commented upon at the private viewing was Grey Eyes, which is a portrait of the late tap-dancer Jimmy Clark, one half of the Clark Brothers. This is a thought provoking and contemplative image in which Osinibi has used the unobtrusive serenity of the camera lens in order to let Jimmy’s personality come through. However, bearing no trace of her characteristic shutter speed experiments, it is not quite as easy to immediately identify how this particular pieces functions within the collection as a whole. Thus, the reason for its inclusion, I would suggest, resides in the idea of the human face as a calendar of time: that the passage of time is suggested in his wrinkles, his white hairs, the hazy expression in his eyes, and so on. Thus, as a viewer, the image provokes questions such as: how old is this man? What has he seen? What has he experienced in his life? Indeed, connections between eyes, sight, and time pervade several of the works in the exhibition. For example, hung just to the right of Grey Eyes is At Odds, in which, as artist Edward Ofosu pointed out to me, caught in the process of turning her head from left to right, her direction of her own eyes is cleverly matched by the direction of the eye of the peacock feather of her patterned blouse. 

Grey Eyes

I was also able to speak with Alicia, future sister-in-law of the artist, and, funnily enough, the model who appears as the shadowy figure in two of the larger pieces, Yellow Jeans and Give out Light. These pieces were shot in a real derelict mansion in Mill Hill, North London, and Alicia recounted to me Osinibi’s instance of utilising particularly atmospheric buildings in her work. Alicia is more noticeably visible in Give out Light where she poses demurely in a kitchen doorway, veiled behind what appears to a sinister wraith of smoke. Alicia also told me of her anticipation of seeing the final image, as, being on the other side of the camera, she naturally had no idea as to what the final image would turn out like. Indeed, what she found particularly shocking about seeing the image for the first time was the dissociation she experienced. In other words, that there was a breakdown of recognition which resulted in a difficulty in accepting the human image presented to her as her own. She also pointed out that, much like I have previously discussed using the example of Run, how misleading the final image can be in terms of the way in which it was produced. In this case, although the warmly-toned image appears to show what looks like the reflection of flames to the left of the door frame (the suggestion is, I believe, that the figure in the smoke may be the ghost of somebody who lost their life in a house fire), in actual fact these photographs were shot in freezing conditions: the derelict property, of course, not having a working heating system.

As fascinating as this photo is, however, my personal favourite of the entire show is its partner image, Yellow Jeans. Perhaps my penchant for this particular image is in some sense related to my interest in architecture, particularly the darker and more sinister aspects and resonances suggested by built environments. Indeed, of all the images in the collection, Yellow Jeans most directly articulates the effect of the passage of time on architectural structures. Depicting part of a room with its doorframe and carpet removed, dots of neglected blue-tack covering the wall and patches of missing plaster, here Osinibi has utilised the intrinsic visual grammar of the ruined object in order to conjure overtones of death and its transgression. Indeed, the wreckage of physical substances spotlighted by the image most definitely suggests a malevolent passage of time: that time is, in some sense, the agent of death and thus never on your side. 

Christopher Yiannitsaros

arc Research Officer

To view the brochure for this exhibition, please click here.

To view the promotional video for this exhibition, please click here.