Lord-Sir-Kenneth-Clark's Civilisation

I have spent 19 out of the last 21 days at the day jobs (long days, mind, not short-arsed ones) dreaming of today, a day at home, making art. Now I’m in a stew about not having enough time left to finish my work  for the Barbican Library exhibition next month.

My mad day-jobs frenzy came to head on Saturday with the Preview of an exhibition I’ve been curating at Tension Gallery. It looks great, thanks to quality artwork and installation help from the ever-patient punk legend, Nick Cash*. I’ve never curated a show. I’m knackered, but proud, and grateful to Ken Turner for putting his trust in me. If you are in a position to visit, I’ll be invigilating throughout, and up for a chat. I have nailed this year’s faces (unfinished, obvs) to the wall, as my contribution.

Airing: Tension Fine Art, 135 Maple Road, London SE20. Until 26th June. Fridays and Saturdays 11am - 5pm, closing at 4pm on the final day. Coffee morning 11am, 11th July. Artists’ Talk 2pm, 19th July.

Back to the Barbican. It’s mainly going to be old work, of course, because TIME. However, although I haven’t touched it for a month, I have been spending early mornings and evenings butchering ‘Civilisation’. That’s the book to accompany the ancient TV series by Lord-Sir-Kenneth-Clark, a man born into a wealthy ‘textiles family’ and responsible for my questionable early art education (didn’t include female artists and missed out a huge chunk of non-western culture). Anyway, I’ve never cut up a serviceable book before, due to deeply ingrained ‘respect’ for the printed word. But after seeing Mutant Library (my favourite Tension exhibition) I decided not to give a shit, and crossed the floor. Zero remorse, so far. Turning the pages (along with old Tate/ V&A magazines) into collages with a joyful vengeance. They’re not signed yet, but I’ll add a few images (scroll to end for credits).

I’ll be sharing the space with Kemi Athene Pennicott, but it’s two completely different exhibitions.

Civilisation: Barbican Library, London EC2. 1st - 28th August. Mon, Wed + Fri 9.30am - 5.50pm; Tues + Thurs 9.30am - 7.30pm; Sat 9.30am - 4pm. Check the library website for time changes. I intend to be there every Monday and Saturday, with daily updates on my website/Instagram informing of my whereabouts should you wish to avoid me, or not.

Some other exciting news is that my Exile Textiles will be in a book by Julia Triston. Textile Protest: Artists, Activism and the Historical Power of Cloth in Protest, published by Batsford Books and out on 14th August. It’s ‘thoughtfully illustrated with examples that include heavily embroidered suffragette and trade union banners, the knitted pussyhats of the 2017 Women’s March, protest textiles from the Guerrilla Girls, Pride flags that celebrate the LGBTQ+ community, and the vast variety of textile art in support of the Black Lives Matter movement. It also covers the rich history of fine art textiles with a political theme, such as Judy Chicago’s iconic 1970s installation The Dinner Party, and includes interviews with prominent activist artists that give further insight into the way everyday materials can be repurposed to create arresting political art’. Get me.

Back to the stitching,

A x

* Nick has a very niche touring exhibition (Crash Ride Snare) of drummers’ art. Thing is, most of his artists are over 50. Some youth is required. If you are a young drummer, who is also an artist (or you know someone who fits the bill) give him a shout on his Instagram and tell him I sent you @crash_ride_snare

Page 92. St Augustine, Sandro Botticelli, 1480. Fresco. Ognissanti, Florence. Glove puppet of Judy, Fred Tickner c 1975. Given by the British Puppet and Model Theatre Guild. Cut from V&A Magazine, Summer 2019. Photo V&A*

Page 316. Men setting their watches by the noon gun (lithograph), Gustave Doré. Yoko Ono with Glass Hammer, 1967, from HALF-A-WIND SHOW, Lisson Gallery, London, 1967. Photo by Clay Perry. Cut from Tate ‘Exhibition Highlights 2023-24’.

It's Not A Fallow Period, It's Lack Of Time

I make art in small pockets of time on evenings and weekends. I like my ‘day jobs’, and am lucky to have them, but they are ‘low pay’ and I wouldn’t do them if I didn’t have to. I would be making art instead. And then some.

A few days ago a woman came into the gallery where I work. I liked her immediately. I wrongly assumed she was biding her time before hopefully showing her phone-art with the aim of securing an exhibition. This happens more frequently than I would like. I don’t have, or want, the power to dish-out exhibitions. I was wrong. She had studied Fine Art but now worked for a printing company, which she enjoyed. She said she was too poor to be an artist. When she left Art School she needed to get a job to pay the rent.

I get it.

For the past decade, or so, I have attempted to document the year by stitching newspaper faces to cloth. That’s the 2024 version, above. You can see the names of the ‘sitters’ here.

May begins today, and I haven’t started stitching this year yet. History tells me that if I don’t start in January, then I don’t start at all. There are worse things, I know, but I’m feeling incredibly sad about it. Attaching the ‘faces’, gradually throughout the year, provides my brain with enough delusion to convince it I’m making a lot of art. When in reality I’ve only completed one piece of work in the last three years, because like most working people I’m selling my time to pay the bills and have very little left for art making. This is NOT the same as having a ‘fallow period’. I am not having one of those.

I first started stitching paper faces on New Year’s Day 2015 (or 2014?) when a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses knocked on the door and gave me the Watchtower. From then on, every face that came through the letterbox was hand stitched to a large woollen blanket. At about 1,600 faces there was no space left, so I stopped. It took a couple of years, I think. I don’t have a studio, and had no place to store it, which resulted in its butchering. I cut it into sixteen pieces, you can see the top-left corner below.

Section 1 of Mostly Uninvited, c2015

I enjoyed the process and wanted to continue, but needed something more manageable, something smaller. So in 2019 (sitters list here), I started restricting myself to 365 faces, thereby documenting the year. I’d call it ‘The Audience’ and make one annually. So much for that.

The Audience 2019

Because of my exile, the 2020 faces weren’t stitched until 2021 (sitters list here). By now, I had an idea of how much space 365 heads needed and budgeted accordingly. Twelve months, spread over four napkins, each the perfect holding size. On account of there being a lack of newspapers for a huge chunk of the year, I replaced some faces with crosses from my parents’ prescription bags and little covid-thingies, both of which were in abundance. It was shortlisted for the Brixton Art Prize.

The Audience 2020

‘The Audience 2021’ didn’t happen. It’s a pile of dusty newspapers in the corner of my lounge. So is ‘The Audience 2023’ and ‘The Audience 2025’. However, ‘The Audience 2022’ was miraculously completed. Although, I’ve yet to document it so it’s not really finished.

The Audience 2022

An even bigger miracle is that I made two versions of ‘‘The Audience 2024’. One to sell, eventually. I hope. It just needs signing, dating and backing. I submitted it, unsuccessfully, for the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition.

I’m hoping to show them all at the Barbican Library in August. Maybe I’ll see some of you there?

PS. There’s 15 tickets (from a possible 30) left for my art-talk-meal-thingy, and 48 prints (from a possible 50) left from my limited-edition-delaunay-do-da.

A Good Kick Up My Cocky Arse

There is a ‘62 Group’ exhibition coming soon to Farnham. Being a member of said group, I took it for granted that I would be in it. I confidently sashayed to the framer with ‘Jake and Dinos Chapman Have An Idea’ (yes, another prod at the male dominated artworld) the minute I’d cast off. My usual stance is to wait until confirmation before committing to the expense of a frame.

I was rejected.

Seven positives.

1. I got a good kick up my cocky arse. Always good.

2. I was forced (old work wasn’t submittable) to focus. This is the only piece of work I’ve completed in three years. What about last year's Faces? (I hear you cry). Not quite finished yet. 2023’s Faces, then? Not even started. What about that piece in the Royal Academy Summer Show? Made in 2022.

3. I enjoyed the making. The ‘small work’ stipulation proved to be perfectly manageable. I spent Christmas and New Year stitching Ernie Wise’s legs, and enjoyed every minute.

4. I have a new piece of work, framed (not paid for or collected yet, mind) and ready to sell. Well, as soon as I’ve documented the sources.

5. Another artist, hopefully a previous rejectee, has been given a platform. The gallery is small. There is not enough space for everyone. The curators can’t please us all. It can’t always be my turn.

6. I no longer need to take time from my day jobs (I don’t get paid holidays) to deliver, collect work, and pay for train fares to deepest Surrey.

7. It has made me consider, not for the first time, photography. The importance of good photographs was frequently repeated in the instructions. I ignored the advice, blindly doing what I always do, taking snaps with my not-particularly-modern phone.

Joy in the Detail: Small Work from the 62 Group

7th May - 6th September, 2025.

Tuesday - Friday, 10am - 5pm. Saturday, 10am - 4pm.

Crafts Study Centre, Falkner Road, Farnham, Surrey GU9 7DS.

Free.