Monday, March 30, 2020

thoughts on 'bullshit' (cont.).

Andy's preoccupation with versions of abstract expressionist work made from about 2005 until the painting of bullshit in 2006 evidence the impact the European war sites and his disdain for the hypocritical terrain of that other cross laden site - Christianity - had on his painting in this period.

The large canvas he begun bullshit on was probably intimidating, especially as it may well have been intended as the culmination of this preoccupation and previous work. Even the amount of paint needed for such a large canvas was a constraint, though less so than the pressure to do it justice.

It's hard to tell but it looks as though there was minimal priming, then a pretty general wash over the entire canvas with an industrial yellow/green lime wash Melony had left over from house painting. Then tape was used to stencil and paint in a few large white crosses, then red and blue, in oil paint. With drying time this would probably have been over some days. Some of the tape remains on the canvas in areas indicating deliberate or technical 'mistakes'. Perhaps this is when the shift began, days of meticulous labour undone simply removing a line of tape, or the increasing doubt of successfully achieving such a large work, even doubt about the whole subject and approach. Perhaps Andy started to wonder if the idea was just a bland repetition of ubiquitous icons/symbols rather than the haunted shock he had envisaged and hoped the painting might evoke.

At some stage the whole thing changed. Andy's rebellious doppelgänger refused to allow the charade to continue. He hurled everything at it from then on. There was enough space for multiple narratives, an entire ecosystem of symbols, shapes, line, colours, textures and emotions. Here we have the quintessential Andrew.

The ways he layered and laid paint down is seductive, revelling in whatever materials and tools are employed, even gravity. There is a cacophony of composition and intent running riot from edge to edge of the canvas. The work is alive with visions and revisions. Crosses, vertical and horizontal lines and rectangles, skeletons, skulls, a swastika, an upside down American flag, and a multitude of details all compete for visibility as the viewer is drawn into trying to make sense of chaos... is that a dead snake or goanna draped over the central red cross, a yellow tulip just above and behind it? The small tall white rectangles either side of centre at the bottom of the frame with their aqua and pink inserts hold such grace and poetry, gestural and featherlike amongst the wider chaos and dismemberment of the symbolic above and around them. 

The work is simultaneously playful and sinister. By the time it was completed I don't think it was meant to 'make sense', by then it had become much more. It is certainly 'about' the Western military/industrial complex and a reaction to the horrors of war and dogma, but also 'taking the piss' at the commercial art world and taking life too seriously.

I'm sure it was weeks, probably months in the making, through many iterations and changes becoming a metanarrative and manifestation of experiences, beliefs, thoughts and feelings. It spoke of Andrew probably more than any other work in the exhibition.

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