Hauled myself out of exile in the back of beyond and traipsed over to Kettle's Yard where Aid and Abet, Cambridge's premier artist run space, have put on a show in the gallery's truncated viewing areas.
The show is called "Temporary Residence" and in the gallery there were works by six artists plus additional interventions in the House by two more, who I was unable to check out. Sorry Annabel Dover and Iain Paxon. Another time I promise.
For me the highlights of the show were Martyn Cross, Sean Vicary and Lisa Wilkens. Although it has to be said that Kevin Hunt's spare, ink soaked wooden elements, Richard Proffitt's funky voodoo and Lord of the Flies inflected piece and Rosanna Greaves' sound sculpture were equally compelling.
Sean Vicary's short film with its animated shells, small animal skeletons , lizards and rotating rotting fruit was poetry in motion.The landscape imagery has hints of Paul Nash, and a type of sense of wonder and mystery that that being alone in the weirdness and peculiarity of the countryside can sometimes provoke. Vicary has
said that he is interested in the internal and external notions of landscape and its politicization.
In fact he has made a lush and lyrical piece about a specific place and set of feelings. And it has pretty good production values and crisp editing too, and a haunting sound track.
Lisa Wilkens was represented by a set of lithographic prints with letterpress additions for the captions.
The work would be quite a slap in the face if you were expecting conventional portraits. Instead she presents us with something altogether more tricky. Her "prevented portraits" consist of a series of identical masked faces.Even the round eye holes provide nothing but darkness to peer into. These are really sheltered identities.Enclosed personalities. Who does the enclosing and why is a different matter. People are masked for many reasons, not all of them readily acceptable. There is also something otherworldly about the use of lithography, a traditional medium which Wilkens has employed to articulate a specific set of contemporary concerns.
Martyn Cross works with collage. In this set of works he demonstrates his almost obsessive interest in a certain type of garishly coloured and slightly deranged, but nevertheless idealised, men women and children.
Culled from knitting pattern magazines, his characters are slightly hallucinatory in their visual intensity.They have also been slightly subverted. There are more eyes than strictly necessary in some cases, and beards sprout luxuriantly and unexpectedly. One or two of his children seem to be enjoying a crafty roll up. A skull is suspended from a staff.These guys inhabit some radioactive land. There's no catastrophic damage, but the meltdown at the local plant has had consequences.
There are hints of cult movies here. Wicker Man springs to mind as does Eraserhead. It's the unease. Not surprisingly Val Doonican and the Blue Peter kids programme are also in the mix. It's the jumpers you see.
Back in the 70's Doonican was as well know for his taste in sweaters as his pleasant Irish accented crooning.And the Blue Peter team always wrapped up well in their woolies.
And so threatened by the characters that Cross has dreamed up, I retreat. The fixed expressions and the threat of primitive weapons from these knitwear clad mutants are driving me away to the bookshop.It is time to re-read The Midwich Cuckoos.
aidandabet.co.uk www.yateheads.blogspot.co.uk rosannagreaves.com
www.kevin-hunt.co.uk www.richardproffitt.co.uk www.seanvicary.com
www.lisawilkens.com www.annabeldover.com
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