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Sunday, September 20, 2009
A Head-Scratcher of an Art Show
Alice Pfeiffer
For a crash course in distinctly British humor, stop by an exhibit of photography by Richard Paul, entitled “I Was a Hand Model Too” at SEVENTEEN (17 Kingsland Road; 44-20-7729-5777; www.seventeengallery.com), an independent art gallery in East London.
The artist is a former commercial photographer who also once co-ran a now-defunct art space, The Hoxton Distillery, near Brick Lane. In this exhibition, he recreates, in a dry humor that veers to the absurd, a pastiche of catalog photography.
The title of this venture, which runs through Oct. 3, is a tongue-in-cheek poke at the glib and pseudo-glamorous world of hand modeling (most famously referenced in an episode of “Seinfeld”). Calling to mind the work of a contemporary, urban Magritte, the show consists of incongruous encounters of unrelated objects, on a flat, pastel background: a banana and a vase, the famous Dürer print with the hands in prayer coupled with swimming goggles.
What does the title mean? That’s where the British-style humor comes in. One strains for clues. The wilting banana, placed next to what appears to be a handmade bottle or vase is entitled “The Raw and the Cooked” — the title of a book by the French anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss. Then there’s the riff on Dürer. Classicism versus modern consumerism?
To put it bluntly: there’s no real answer.
“The artist doesn’t really give an explanation. He remains quite elusive,” said David Hoyland, the gallery’s director.
And indeed, SEVENTEEN, which opened in 2007 in an old warehouse space, specializes in odd, provocative pieces, constantly seeking to puzzle its audience. Previous shows have included last year’s re-creation of a sweatshop, “Sweat,” by Susan Collis, and “Self-Storage,” David Ersser’s version of a serial killer’s hideaway (the piece covered the windows of the gallery and carried no indication that it was actually an art show).
Paul’s exhibit carries on the head-scratching tradition with vigor.
www.openmagazine.co.uk
I Was a Teenage Hand Model Too
15th September 2009
Alex Hopkins
Richard Paul's exhibition provides a wry comment on the nature of branding and of our ill-advised, readiness to accept everything the huge conglomerates present us with at face value.
Picking up the latest Argos catalogue is rarely an inspiring experience. The process we undergo is straight forward, indeed almost mind numbingly automatic. Taking a cursory glance at the object we require, we will fill in the form and rarely give it another thought until we pick up the object at the collection point. The printed image that confronts us is bland, two dimensionally direct and startlingly non-confrontational. In his first solo show, Richard Paul aims to illuminate our understanding of the mode of mediation that is catalogue photography. The basic premise is that a catalogue image presents the viewer with what they want to buy. It goes no deeper than this. It is expertly packaged, paired-down, unglamorous and is strictly conditioned by a documentary stance and simple confidence. Paul's show does not reproduce catalogue photography, but rather enters into an ambitious dialogue with this most visually undemanding of consumer practices. A series of prints and sculptures attempt to challenge our pre-conceptions, playing with the genre's conventions and asking us to imagine the infinite possibilities of an image. We are presented with high resolution prints of some of the paraphernalia we may expect to find in various catalogues - a flowery plate, a beer bottle, a pot of paint and a mirror. In each case, however, the image has been tampered with and re-contextualised to create something new and utterly unexpected. The mirror is black and, therefore, effectively obsolete, while the pot of paint is photographed on its side, the white spilt residue becoming a plastic smiling face. Likewise, an empty green beer bottle spews its contents on to a purple background - the contents not being the beverage but a doily. In establishing these unprecedented pairings, we are reminded of the more salubrious world of artefact or museum photography. The precise meaning behind this show is difficult to ascertain and the works themselves simply provide a stimuli, leaving it up to the viewer to produce their own response. There is, however, something consciously exploitative and deadpan about this comment on consumer culture and the marketing practices that inflect our purchasing habits. These witty images serve to unsettle the typical functions of the products we would normally buy, perhaps prompting us to re-assess the questions we ask ourselves when we are selecting an object from a catalogue. Moreover, they provide a wry comment on the nature of branding and of our, perhaps ill-advised, readiness to accept everything the huge conglomerates present us with at face value.