10-26 APRIL 2014

BLUE CURRY / REBECCA OUNSTEAD / HANNAH REGEL / LISA SELBY

THE SELECTED ARTISTS DEMONSTRATE AND EXAMINE THE EXOTIC THROUGH THE USE OF SOUND, COLOUR, PATTERN AND MATERIAL ASSOCIATIONS. ASKING THE VIEWER TO CONSIDER OTHERNESS AND THE ORNAMENTAL IN RELATION TO OBJECTS, ARRANGEMENT AND PERFORMATIVITY.

BRINGING TOGETHER ARTISTS MAKING OR RE-APPROPRIATING OBJECTS THAT POSSESS A FAMILIARITY, ARE SUGGESTIVE OF, OR ARE UTILISED IN ORDER TO SERVE ANOTHER PURPOSE. THE WORKS AS OBJECTS BEGIN TO CREATE FICTIONS, FICTIONS WHICH ALONE CAN BE WIDELY INTERPRETED, POSSESSED AND RE-WRITTEN.
OUNSTEADS’ PERFORMATIVE WORK ACTS AS A CURATORIAL TOOL. EACH ARTWORK IS PERFORMED WITH, THE WORKS, INCLUDING THE PERFORMER, BECOME PROPS. THE OBJECTS COLLECTIVELY PERFORM A FICTION, WHILST BELONGING TO NO FICTION IN-PARTICULAR.

BLUE CURRY. B. 1974, NASSAU, BAHAMAS. LIVES AND WORKS IN LONDON. BLUE COMPLETED HIS MFA IN FINE ART AT GOLDSMITHS IN 2009. HE IS FEATURED IN THE ARTICLE ‘ISLAND LIFE’ IN THE CURRENT ISSUE OF FRIEZE.

REBECCA OUNSTEAD. B. 1989, LIVES AND WORKS IN NOTTINGHAM. A RECENT GRADUATE FROM NOTTINGHAM TRENT UNIVERSITY, SHE IS CURRENTLY THE ATTIC PROGRAMMER AT ONE THORESBY STREET. REBECCA WAS RECENTLY SELECTED FOR EXETER OPEN AND NOTTINGHAM CASTLE OPEN 2013. SHE WILL BE SHOWING NEW WORKS AT THE BRISTOL ART WEEKENDER IN MAY.

HANNAH REGEL. B. 1989, NOTTINGHAM. LIVES AND WORKS IN LONDON. HANNAH WAS SELECTED FOR NEW CONTEMPORARIES 2013, AND IS ALSO THE CO-EDITOR OF FEMINIST JOURNAL SALT, WHICH WILL BE STOCKED AT TRIPLE O G.

LISA SELBY. B. 1977, ESSEX. LIVES AND WORKS IN LONDON. COMPLETING HER MFA AT GOLDSMITHS IN 2011, SELBY HAS RECENTLY UNDERTAKEN A RESIDENCY AT THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN-MADISON, US AND BEEN AWARDED THE 2013 BURSARY AWARD FROM ROYAL BRITISH SOCIETY OF SCULPTORS. CURRY AND SELBY MADE WORK COLLABORATIVELY WHILST ON THE PEER SESSIONS RESIDENCY, RESULTING IN FUTURE MEMORIES, ENCLAVE, LONDON.

COMMISSIONED TEXTS
  • The Peach Eater - Thomas Darby

    Observation

    Peaches, moldy, sag turquoise and spill onto white fur. Pink painted slacks hang on a slate gloss statue. Marbled combs lie entwined. Magnolia walls frame stuffed velvet balls beside curved steel-bound cloth. Bouncing castles of sand in woofers wrapped among coarse hash rock holed fabric stand upright and leer with Jamaican sounds.

    Naked man walks silently, pulls slacks on quietly. Fingers the holes at the side, pushes in details around his skin. Stands by window with hands on its rail. Stands by grey post and rocks gently between heel to toe. Nose close to vertical sheen. Holds pose. Limbers up. Navigates perimeter of enclosure. Runs fingertips across the sides. Stands between speakers, hands outstretched in sand waiting for its activation. Head barely nods when voiceless patois booms. Strides into space. Stretches. Interlocks fingers on neck nape and forms diamond. Holds pose. Caresses coloured toys. Rubs forefinger and thumb together. Auditions another graceful stance. Paces another circumference. Repeats all the above in interchangeable positions. At one point takes a peach in hand, consumes until stone is exposed, and discards.

    Opinion

    Subject is, for the most part, unresponsive to exterior stimuli. Seems unaware of any audience, makes no eye contact, and appears to be in some sort of trance.

    On its face is what may be described as a fixed ennuic orgasm, the chiseled features of a taut euphoria. But this may be too generous an interpretation; it is absolutely a blank expression and difficult to read.

    Movement of the body is always slow and should be recorded as considered. Occasional stretches allude to the beginnings of a gymnastic routine, though no mount is ever executed – possible muscle memory from a previous training.

    The measuring of the limits of confinement by pacing around the outer rim is so common a barometer of the frustration felt by trapped mammals being held in captivity for an indeterminate period of time that it barely warrants mention, and is only catalogued here in the interest of a more complete record keeping.

    The music provided to test reactivity has no obvious outward effect.

    Though taking an intense visual interest in the paraphernalia placed around the cage – occasionally intrigued by them as if foreign bodies, sometimes regarding them with the familiarity of home furnishings – the subject physically interacts with them in only the most cursory of fashions. Touches them cautiously and only ever with its digits. Always rubbing any skin that breaches contact for a time afterwards relative to length of initial contact.

    More curiously, the subject never attempts any direct application of objects with one another. Quite the opposite is observed: there seems to exist a reverence for these artificial constructions. Some physical preciousness contrary to their tactility. Despite the plethora of balls and holes surrounding the subject, it never once attempts any insertions.

    The exception of this is, inevitably, the eating of the peach. It is probably the crux. It is where subject and object congeal. Among the juices from their flesh a cogent mercantile union is created. If there is any purpose within this room, among these objects, then it most likely lies here, through this act.

  • You're Still Paying - Thomas Darby

    so what you just want me like this you wanna make me stand over here and touch this like this or like this wear this and look out across here with my hands this way how’s this how about now holding this pose now walk over here and run my fingers through this like this in this way okay is this the way you want me to be among these things waiting for what something else to put this with that where wait what does this no I mean where should I okay here and look like this but a little higher now don’t you think that wait fine don’t feel just do as you say I know I know I am holding the pose isn’t that happening already standing here like this doesn’t that look like something you should want something deserving of currency now how about this soft velvet more like this right sure let’s put the music on yes voiceless patois doesn’t it I mean really just fills the space right now if I can just take you over here see the sheen on these fabricated pigments these beached contours are really something I know such oblongs yes all picked out of course especially go ahead I can see you looking closer each step is sorry excuse me the crew where are what has have they just what gone and who what is when did I get to sorry this isn’t usual hey where are you going now wait please oh come on like what do I do with that with this I’m left here all used up selling same as ever but now I don’t even know what this is anymore don’t even know what this is for just going through it again and again sorry can we go back but I’m still here locked in this attic waiting always wait like this but more straight okay like a gymnast right I see how’s this with that alright hey I’m only touching it okay I know I know oh to be rescued pacing around offering up these subtle collusions being all vague and aloof yeah aloof that’s me that’s what you’re paying for for me to wander around and be all vague and aloof trapped up here with these furnishings gleamed to perfection watch this perimeter check yes I’m still here they are still here yes with me we’ve congealed into one product just like that but say where have the crew gone again and where and when is this going to be shown I need to talk to my agent really about the prospects before any stroke this here like this sure fine but really where is how’s someone not even say I’m here haunting it I’m the vague and aloof ghost that’s me the haunted haunting yes I’m the slip through the advert that forgotten booking left to rot among this aging chic still here being recorded still rubbing my fingers together still being screened according to the small print I’m a loop stuck between each story arc of scripted heartbreak contained within these pastel sets and hell four times every hour at prime time is more than enough to cement these chiseled features into that memory trust me it’s all true every word so you treat me knowing that I like this or more like this right sorry how’s this now I know a close up will do that but come on please I know something about waiting here for you like this stood with this peach in my hand its juice rippling all over me sucking it dry asking will my rescuer come now like right now please because I’m stuck here waiting always waiting because