5 October 2023 - 4 November 2023
Nancy Allen, Downward Glance (2023). Pebble, ribbon.
Maddy Whitelaw, Untitled (2023). Metal, plastic.
Georgia Dickie, Mum Quality (2022). Cardboard box with found coffee cup and cardboard, paint, and paper collage.
Yui Usui, Mrs Watanabe’s Dreams and Despairs (2021) and Mrs Watanabe’s Dreams and Despair (2021). Clothes, cloth, thread, seal, handle.
Nancy Allen, Partners (2023). Dyed Feathers.
Maddy Whitelaw, Untitled (Cat) (2023). Found stone statuette, plastic.
Maddy Whitelaw, Untitled (2023). Metal, plastic, calcium carbonate.
Nancy Allen, Overflow (2023). Pebbles, ribbon.
Maddy Whitelaw, Untitled (2023). Glass, sellotape, metal.
A change of seasons often brings a renewed sense of optimism. With each quarter turn of the earth's axis, shifts in atmosphere alter how we calibrate our daily lives, measured by the hours of daylight and by the layers of clothing we wear. As summer turns to autumn, 'Something Seasonal' features artists who seek out what the earth has supplied, often taking familiar things and offering an alternative reading of them.The objects that fall into their grasp aren't dealt too many changes - rather the artist’s close inspection reveal subtle idiosyncrasies on the surfaces. Maddy Whitelaw incongruously balances overlooked debris with more refined manufactured materials she's sourced; Yui Usui's cabinet drawers contain neatly folded designer shirts embellished by patches she's sewn on top; Nancy Allen weaves strips of ribbon into pebbles she's combed from the Lake District and then engraved; Georgia Dickie's found shipping box is a vessel for decoratively painted scraps. Each artist is resourceful with their finds. In Maddy and Yui's assemblages, their delicate approaches tempt new meaning through subtle tensions in arrangement. In Nancy and Georgia’s more calculated resolutions, their cuts and piercings reconfigure their objects a new. And, as with the relentless mutability of the seasons, every sculptor shares an ingenuity for altering these otherwise familiar items, posing an afterlife that suspends them beyond immediate recognition.
- Ted Targett
- Ted Targett