I have a new studio! I am looking forward to making lots of sculpture.
The space is in Deptford. The project is called Loopart13 and is organised by Luisa Spina and Laura Napier.
This is the space we are in; http://loopart13.tumblr.com/
These are the artists;
Anna Louise Hale, Dylan Spencer-Davidson, Emma Fitts, Ester Svensson , Joe Stevens, Katy Wallwork, Nicole Mollett , Sarah Tew, Sarah Bayliss, Sophia Demetriou
The Art of Joy – A response to ‘Trafaria Praia’
Glowing, dangling, rude, ornate, touchable, limbo, womb, octopus, underwater , oasis, cave, under the covers, guts, stomach, bowels, phallic, protrusions, sagging softly, drooping, testicular, camp, voluptuous, decorative, proud, and joyful.
These some of the words I think of whilst sitting inside the blue fabric lined installation created by Portuguese artist Joana Vaconcelos. The installation is just part of a larger piece entitled ‘Trafaria Praia’, a floating artwork, and a pavilion which is moored in a prime location on the shore besides the entrance to the Giardini.
The artwork is based on an original ‘Cacilheiros’ which is the Lisbon equivalent of the Venetian vaporetto (commuter boat), making a symbolic connection between the two cities. The cacilheiros, like the vaporetto, is a passenger vessel for ordinary folk, going about their daily activities. Thus the act of ‘pimping-up’ a cacilheiro as the Portuguese pavilion, raises the status of public object to that of an elite custom-built prize, as well as parodying the billionaire yachts which arrive in Venice at the time of the Biennale. They too have disco fairy lights and cocktail parties, but they just simply aren’t as interesting.
The exterior of the boat is covered with a coat of blue and white tiles (a traditional Portuguese craft material called azulejos) depicting a landscape of Lisbon as seen from the river. The work takes its inspiration from another large-scale panel of azulejos entitled ‘The Great Panorama of Lisbon’, which depicts the city before the legendary earthquake of 1755 and is a quintessential expression of the baroque-style golden age of azulejo production in Portugal. This outer seal transforms the vessel, geographically referencing its place of origin and proud sponsors of the project.
The interior of the boat is a fantasy space. A fabric installation envelopes the walls, ceilings and floor with a mix of blue and white, silvery, tasseled, crocheted, textured and patterned. The room instantly has a calming influence. Relaxing whilst discovering the detail and exploring the beautiful bulges of this cave is joyful thing. In fact this is the reason I think this work is truly revolutionary, because it gives me joy.
Quite a bit of contemporary art is senselessly banal and tedious. Obviously some subject matter requires serious treatment, and therefore needs sombre appreciation. However a lot of conceptual art is unnecessarily boring as a false ruse to appear thoughtful or profound. The word ‘fun’ is one that we associate with child-friendly entertainment, not contemporary art. Art that is rich in humour or joy has been pretty absent from the art world for a long time, and yet it seems that Vaconcelos’ work at the Biennale might be a growing area of practice to turn this around.
The work feels more like a piece of public art than ‘gallery’ work. Mixing ‘high’ and ‘low’ culture is also part of the work, e.g. the disco tunes being played on the upper decks upstairs, followed by a talk about contemporary Portuguese art, or by elevating traditional craft to installation art status. The work thus subverts elitist art institutions on two fronts, by masquerading as a luxury yacht and by the internal synthesis of influences.
‘Trafaria Praia’ might be made of soft furnishing and pretty designs, but there is nothing ‘soft’ about the strength of this work. All too rare in the Biennale, all too rare in contemporary art in general, Vaconcelos’ work combines joyfulness with a multi-layered critique of cultural hierarchy, and is an original indeed.
Blurring the Boundaries; is National Identity no longer relevant at the Venice Biennale?
‘A good day for cyclists’ hen harrier painting by Sarah Tynan, with assistance from Adriano Valeri and Massimiliano Gottardi. Part of ‘English Magic’ by Jeremy Deller
A recent article reviewing the Great Britain pavilion opens with this rather bold statement;
‘The notion that the work presented by each country at the Venice Biennale is somehow a reflection of its national identity is these days pretty defunct.’
Jac Mantle in ‘The Skinny’ online curatorial review.
Defunct or not, national identity remains a matter of controversy at the world’s oldest art show this year, which was curated with the title ‘Encyclopaedic Palace.’ While the article on Jeremy Deller’s work accuses the show of being a ‘state-funded celebration pumped with patriotic pride’, it also puts forward this idea that artists who dare to make work about their nationality are being too obvious, even if the work is trying to subvert traditionally held views.
If you are a regular visitor to Biennales and other international art fairs you will probably be familiar with the experience which I call ‘art cloning’ – an arty version of déjà vu. It might be a knowingly naïve painting, or a sculpture made of found objects, or perhaps a film of an abandoned post-industrial wasteland. Whatever the experience, the art clone is recognised by the fact it firstly appears to look very convincingly like a piece of contemporary art, before you can even figure out where it is from, or which artist made it.
I wonder whether this ‘art cloning’ relates to the changing attitude towards how artists deal with their nationality, and whether they even see it as significant. In this globally connected age, there is shared subject matter, fashionable mediums and contexts. There are artists who make the blurring of the boundaries and mix of cultural influences their signature and this year’s Biennale is no different in this regard. Yet even those artists who explicitly avoid the national identity theme can be read from a national-global perspective.
A whole spectrum of responses is on display from trumpeting or questioning national identity as a grand gesture, to completely rejecting it. There is the lightly-disguised political critique; for example the Russian pavilion, in which artist Vadim Zakharov invites visitors to genuflect along a kneeler to watch golden coins rain from the ceiling.
The 2013 Venice Biennale has 88 national participants, 10 countries are representing for the first time, a couple of nations switched pavilions, and some represent artists from other countries. This truly feels like a global event, much more so than the commercial art fairs such as Frieze.
The country pavilions range in size, proximity to the main exhibition, and budget. Inevitably, these factors create a sense of a hidden art world hierarchy. Countries that lay claim to being the most powerful in the art world such as Great Britain and USA are situated centrally in the Giardini. Whilst these countries might be considered important (i.e. at the top of the art food chain), they are by no means the nations receiving the most attention. You just have to look at the number of ways in which China is represented in this year’s Biennale from the official pavilion, to the ‘Voice of the Unseen’ independent curated exhibition, and then the Ai Wei Wei reappearance in several other places. Look at the attention surrounding the Iraq pavilion, for proof that nationality and how the artists choose to deal with it is still relevant.
Going to just a few of the smaller pavilions dotted around the Grand Canal, I also realised that in being away from the chaos of the Giardini and Arsenale has its own benefits. Although obviously being harder to find and thus receiving less visitors, the smaller shows have a certain kind of autonomy, and freedom to choose new spaces, rather than having to re-use the existing grand pavilion.
Those that triumph the most, use this potential disadvantage to their benefit, as for example Angola, whose artist installed the artworks on crates in a seemingly arbitrary way, without having to ‘dress’ the location. The artwork consisted of multiple prints of photographs taken by Edson Chagas, images of objects he had found on the streets of Luanda. These discarded fragments of an African town had been made beautiful by the artist, and were free to all visitors who wished to take a copy. Winning the Golden Lion award of the Biennale, the artwork reflects eloquently on themes that both are about a particular country and a particular place, and are universal.
Individually, artists showing in the main curated section at the Arsenale are also identified by their country of origin. Talking about her work she presents as part of the Encyclopedic Palace curated part of the Biennale, Andra Ursuta was very clear that her work is informed by growing up in Romanian:
‘I can’t escape who I am, and where I am from. No matter how long I live abroad I will always be a Romanian.’
Andra Ursuta, Romanian Artist, talking in video interview by Biennale Arte
The work she presented is a series of miniature rooms (dollhouse size), which recreated the house she grew up in.
The Indonesian exhibition which is at the far end of the Arsenale is entitled ‘Sakti’ a word of Indian origin meaning a strong creative energy, divine and indestructible often related to female mythical figures. The ‘Sakti’ catalogue introduction by Achille Bonito Oliva proposes the idea of the artist as nomad ‘neither idiomatic nor autarchic, but rather subjective and historically individual, to a language which is perforce and always international’. The piece goes on to suggest that art installations act like temporary ‘Houses of Art’, projections of their individual experience. In a further essay, Carla Bianpoen and Rifky Effendy suggest:
“The pavilion can be seen as a metaphor mirroring Indonesia’s culture of the present time: hybrid, syncretic and breaking through the borders of individual and social spaces.”
The Indonesian Experience in the Global context, by Carla Bianpoen and Rifky Effendy
I am particularly drawn to the work of Entang Wiharso entitled ‘The Indonesian: No Time to Hide’ which is a huge temple gate-like structure embellished in elaborate relief work. The work contains an orgy of bodies performing strange rituals, a mixture of the personal and the political, all entangled in ivy of intestinal twine. Talking to the assistant I discover the blackness of the work is due to the fact it is made from volcanic ash, taken from the Volcano nearby where the artist lives.
The artist’s work is a fascinating, beautiful and at the same time an absurd mix of the mythical and real world, re-appropriating symbols of nationality, whilst echoing traditional crafts and materials. This piece is more than about just challenging of the cliché notion of national identity, yet this is clearly in there and part of what makes it so compelling.
If so many artists are tackling this issue in their work, why is dealing with such topics as national identity seen as ‘defunct’? In their book about contemporary art and nationalism, Sezgin Boynik and Minna L. Henriksson state that nationalism has become a ‘taboo’ subject in art.
Drawing a connection from contemporary art to nationalism is in many ways complicated and problematic. One of the main reasons lies in understandings of contemporary art as a practice that is subversive and critical, which questions mainstream ideas and conservative thoughts. In its fundamental definition, contemporary art of the 20th century (ranging from the avant-garde to conceptual art and up to the present) is assumed as an obvious negation of pre-described and fixed ideological formulations, of which nationalism becomes among the most visible examples…
…What we are proposing is the opposite; instead of seeing nationalism as a fossilized, slow, rude, unintelligent, and in non-dialectical solid ground, it is more useful to deal with nationalism as very contemporary movement, which can manifest itself even in the most progressive structures
Contemporary Art and Nationalism
by Sezgin Boynik and Minna L. Henriksson
At its best, art manages to confound our expectations even on traditionally accepted ideas such as national identity. Whilst some works seem cliché others tackle this theme with smart and thought provoking politics, humour and even at times a strange beauty. What more could you ask from an ‘Encyclopaedic Palace’?
Links
A Review of Silentio Pathologia By Elpida Hadzi-Vasileva
What hits you first as you enter the room is the smell of the dusty cocoons and the preserved animal hide. Unfamiliar, fetid and alchemic the aroma sets the tone for a work that is based on the history of disease and its relationship to Venice.
The installation is encircled by a wall of metal sheets, stapled together at intervals, and supported by a small bend at the floor. These panels remind me of the Gagosian exhibition in 2009 by Richard Serra ‘Blind Spot/Open Ended’, channeling the viewer but without the sheer brutality and weight of the Serra works.
The structure of the work is based on a labyrinth, with multiple layers, each made of a different material, which leads the viewer to a central point. The first layer is a hanging lattice of silk cocoon which have been carefully stitched together to make a hexagonal pattern which remind me of scientific diagrams of atoms. The lower edge of this odd curtain curves in a seemingly irregular way, never touching the floor.
The second layer is that of black lace thread, stitched together in an irregular web, a bit like a Goth’s jumper. The third layer is that of albino rat skins, flatten and sown together to form a continuous blanket of grotesque luxury. I notice their little faces frozen in a toothy grimace, the missing eyes add to this nightmarish feeling. If this is the dramatic climax of this maze; what decomposing delight might the middle hold?
To my surprise the rat curtain ends to reveal a couple of innocent looking domestic pet cages, complete with water dispenser, and feeding toys. Inside each cage hang two black handbag-pouches, which contain live rats. It is just possible to see the reflection of light on the beady eyes of those creatures; they are clearly very nervous, one can hardly blame them, being surrounded by a somewhat sinister drapery.
The work is fascinating and well worth getting lost in the back streets of Venice to find. But it leaves me a little confused. Perhaps this feeling of disorientation is intentional. I go to the catalogue to seek answers. There is a lot of writing about the Black Death, and theories of how the Silk Road assisted the spread of the virus. The importance of these events in shaping the history of Europe cannot be under estimated, the myth and imagery surrounding this disease is still very much alive in modern Venetian cultural and storytelling. These historical events relates to the current debate around the threat of influenza epidemics, and the potential impact they might have.
All this serious subject matter leaves little room for simple playfulness. Is the artwork a prophetic omen? Or is it weaving a series of symbols and metaphors into a structure in order to generate some other kind of meaning?
I feel the work is a little unresolved, or perhaps too resolved. Ironically, the simple rawness of the artist’s previous body of work has been lost in the complexity of this piece – it’s mix of materials and their dense proximity. All the hours of intensive hard labour that went into making the work are evident and impressive. Yet I wish it was a little messier or more menacing and the constructed-ness of its composition less dominant. Being reprimanded by a gallery assistant for taking a stroll around one of the metal walls did not help. If you were going to experience the art installation version of a pandemic, surely you should come out covered in a thin film of feverish sweat, or at the very least less mindful of health and safety requirements?
I go to the artist’s talk at the ArtQuest Artist’s Pavilion on Garibaldi. Listening to the story of the struggle to make the work, gives me great respect for the determination and research it took. There is talk of the play between revulsion and beauty, and the idea of viruses as being something beautiful. She talks about seeing how far you can push the materials and then letting fate or decay take-over.
It occurs to me that possibly some of the most interesting work by this and other artists happen when they let go of controlling the process, allowing things to evolve or degenerate naturally. Some of the most successful artworks I have seen in Venice fully embrace the accidental and improvisational, both in formation and participation. Maybe ‘Silentio Pathologia’ is at the beginning of this cycle, and if I were to visit it after a few months – during which the climate and time take their toll – the experience would be entirely different.
http://www.theartistsagency.co.uk/elpida_hadzivasileva.html
My Venice Biennale 2013 Top Ten
1. Trafaria Praia, Joana Vasconcelos, Portugal.
2. Cripplewood , Belinde De Bruyckere, Belgium
3. The Hidden Mother, Linda Fregni Nagler (part of Cindy Sherman Curated section), Sweden.
4. A Contemporary Bestiary, Gemma De Angelis, Italian Curator.
5. I´m hungry to keep you close. I want to find the words to resist but in the end there is a locked sphere. The funny thing is that you´re not here, nothing is, 2013 Petrit Halilaj, Republic of Kosovo.
6. Silento Pathologia, Elpida Hadzi-Vasileva, Macedonia.
7. The Indonesia: No Time to Hide Entang Wiharso, Indonesia.
8. The Starry Messenger, Bedwyr Williams, Wales.
9. Future Generation Art Prize.
10. ‘English Magic’ Jeremy Deller, Great Britain.
‘A Curious Dream’
A review of ‘Curiosity; Art and the Pleasure of Knowing’ at Turner Contemporary 2013
I feel as if I have just awoken from the most surreal, fantastical dream. It was full of strange objects and creatures,and took place in rooms which felt familiar yet I did not recognise them. I encountered a Narwhal’s horn, a delicate glass sea anemone, a collection of split hairs and a penguin with the head of a peacock. Hazy memories of walking towards a wooden door with a brass door knob, and a glow from below, only heighten this eerie feeling. It was too much to take in all at once. My head aches with joy. I want to go back to that place, back to those rich chambers of curiosity.
Unlike most such dreams, whereby I have the disappointing realisation that I can not return, in this case I can! For the experience I write of was indeed real, and is open for all to enjoy down in Margate at the Turner Contemporary.
A feast for all the senses, the ‘Curiosity; Art and the Pleasure of Knowing’ exhibition curated by Brian Dillon, sees the galleries completely transformed into an encyclopaedia of wonders. The display and publication contains both artwork and artefact, sourced from a long list of respected institutions and contributors.
This exhibition creates a new benchmark for curators, in terms of how to bring together contemporary art with stuff of real-life fascination. Art galleries on occasion seem to be places which protect artworks from the ‘real’ world outside them. As if those works could not survive or would have no value, if they weren’t supported by the white walls and polished concrete floors. This separation of art from reality is sometimes necessary, but often vacuous. When an exhibition such as ‘Curiosity’ seemingly mixes these two worlds in a coherent and transformative manner, it creates a bridge between them.
It is a testament to the strength of the artworks chosen that they can be placed next to rare artefacts and still hold their ground. Similarly, the museum objects have been reinvigorated in the company of their new neighbours. For example the Horniman Walrus has lost his isolating iceberg plinth and has gained an expression of regal melancholy which is most endearing. One can also peer in closely at the beautiful detailed drawing of a Flea by Robert Hooke, which I was delighted to discover has been reproduced in the catalogue.
It is impossible to summarise this exhibition in a brief anecdote. ‘Curiosity’ demands to be seen in the flesh (just be prepared for some involuntary phantasms the evening after).
The exhibition is on at the Turner Contemporary, Margate from the 24 May 2013 till the 15 September 2013.
http://www.turnercontemporary.org/exhibitions/curiosity-art-and-the-pleasures-of-knowing
I have a few drawings in this show….
“VISIONS”
Contemporary artworks by 11 artists
May 4th—2nd June 2013
Open Thursday—Monday 9-5
The Art Shack
Romney Marsh Visitor Centre
Dymchurch Road
New Romney
Kent TN28 8AY
www.artshackkent.co.uk
01797369487
On Beastliness in Contemporary Art.
What is it about strange monsters and mythological beasts that compel me so? In an attempt to answer this question I visited the exhibition of over 25 highly acclaimed contemporary artists who in some way all incorporate fantastical creatures within their work. Set in the magnificently genteel Hall Place (just off the A2 in Bexley) the location provides the perfect contrast to ‘Beastly Hall’ a menagerie of artworks which are diabolically funny and vile at the same time.
Works range from the delicately beautiful drawings of Rachel Goodyear to the bold bronze vagabonds of Laura Ford. On entry one is greeted by the lifeless gaze of Damien Hirst’s cows’ heads. Their mortality is frozen in an icy blue soup rendered palatable by a chunky white vitrine which boxes them in. A pretentious title points towards the idea of mental illness, the work may be the ‘appetizer’ to the madness which is served up on the first floor.
The courtyard plays host to ‘Rag and Bone with Bag’ by Laura Ford. Two nomadic Beatrix Potter characters that seem to have hit hard times rifle through bins and push their belongings inside shopping trolleys, like victims of the triple-dip recession. This melancholic reflection on fairy-tale creatures is lightened by the glimpse of their trainer clad feet, as if to hint at a certain cunning stealth hidden behind the beggarly baggage.
From death and destitution the exhibition then elevates towards the more weird and decadent. On the first floor Thomas Grunfeld’s misfits play audience to Polly Morgan’s dancing cloud of pigeon wings. Taxidermy provides the most direct way for artists to conjure the uncanny from animals. Having tried it myself I know it is not for the faint hearted, and leaves the maker in awe of nature’s infinite and complex designs. It is apt then that the artist should choose to reassemble the limbs to produce impossible chimeras, celebrating the oddity of evolution.
Matt Collishaw’s work entitled ‘Total Recall’ fills the space with birdsong, emanating from three tree stumps stringed off in a corner. On close inspection one realises the rings on the stump are in fact vinyl records, and apparently the noises are birds imitating chainsaws. The title reminds me of Arnold Schwarzenegger‘s confusion at discovering his whole life was a fiction (in the 1990 film of the same name) and by association the work points to the illusion of reality and the sometimes misleading way in which we make sense of it.
The next room contains a broad mixture of works, one first sees Dorothy Cross’s silver ‘Finger crab’ which sits quietly on a black velvet cushion seemingly pointing a disapproving digit towards Carina Weidle’s ‘Olympic Chickens’. This ridiculous series of photographs made in 1993 are perhaps the prophetic visions of our current attempts to establish the 2012 legacy, that being a bunch of bulging, pimpled bodies attempting to hurtle themselves into fitness, post the year of sporting glory.
At this point I become aware of the running theme of humour in the exhibition, which a recent review suggested invalidates intellectual ‘posturing’ that might be derived from the work.
‘Does art have to be serious? Beastly Hall, an Artwise-curated exhibition of 26 of the most famous contemporary artists and their animal-inspired works, would argue not.….In a nutshell, a charismatic exhibition that aims to amuse, startle and unsettle.’
Review in ‘The Londonist’ By BelindaL • April 27, 2013
Although I agree that there is plenty of spectacle to enjoy in ‘Beastly Hall’ I do not think that therefore the art can be dismissed as light weight entertainment. For example Francis Alys’ ‘The Nightwatch’ subverts the high art establishment by releasing a wild fox into the National Gallery and recording this event via CCTV. The creature takes centre stage creeping from room to room, suspiciously sniffing the air, ignoring the paintings which become antagonists to his attempts to escape.
Joana Vasconcelos work ‘Flibbertigibbet’ presents an ornamental ceramic cat being smothered in crochet lace, as if the net curtains had become malignant and were infecting the pet. Surreal upheaval of the domestic, grotesquery and magical enchantment are found in many of the artworks including this cat. The show presents humour and a darker tension in equal measure.
I suspect that perhaps the reason I am drawn to beastliness is because I find it easier to project my own inner angst and feelings of unease in my own flesh onto animal forms rather than confront it directly. I identify with Charles Avery’s ‘Duculi’ two dogs trapped in a permanent battle to free themselves from their conjoined state. Struggle is also present in Tessa Farmer’s seagull being overwhelmed by an army of ants, in a scene reminiscent of Gulliver and the Lilliputians. From the drawings of Rachel Goodyear hang entrails which could be roots or smoke. Clearly visible within these guts are ghostly faces trapped in the movement of this enigmatic matter.
Repeatedly it seems the connection between man and beast is being made. Imaginary creatures allow artists to explore fantasy worlds, imbuing them with human characteristic whilst doing so. But in doing so the work is venturing into dangerous territory, the land of romantic sentimentality. As Steve Baker proposes in his book ‘The Postmodern Animal’.
‘Something of the aggression, something of the damage, something of the perversity inflicted on contemporary animal imagery is simply to keep it on the right side of that division between serious art and sentimental art, given a history in the 19th and 20th centuries of animal art being so overwhelmingly associated with sentiment’ Steve Baker, Cabinet interview 2001
Modern Art has been devoid of human and animal form for decades, as it conflicted with the minimalism and abstraction which dominated. Maybe as a jubilant reaction to this long dead dogma artists have started to play freely with this idea of beastliness and make works that dip into a mixture of emotions. Claire Morgan’s piece ‘Heart of Darkness’ embodies this conflict perfectly being made entirely of dead flies but structured on a Sol LeWitt-esque geometric grid. The synthesis of minimalism and beastliness in the artwork, mirrors well the savagery-versus-civilization paradox within Joseph Conrad’s novel to which the title refers.
The final room is alive with a mixture of bizarre creatures, what I realise here is how I am repeatedly being drawn to their gaze. A wall of paintings is awash with eyes that stare back at the viewer, from inside billowing clouds to protruding from fleshy bundles, it seems that almost anything has a beast lurking within it (if one looks close enough). Beyond there is a fox laying on an analyst’s couch and the skeletal remains of goofy, this confusion of curious remains refuses to reach a discernible conclusion. The ‘Beastly Hall’ exhibition presents a contemporary interpretation of our relationship to the kingdom of the beast, signaling perhaps a new era of art in which animals are treated as metaphorical gatekeepers to a deeper understanding of our existence.
Links
http://londonist.com/2013/04/menagerie-of-curious-contemporary-art-creatures.php
http://cabinetmagazine.org/issues/4/stevebaker.php
http://www.ustream.tv/recorded/7226235
I am going to Venice to see ‘The Encyclopedic Palace ‘ Biennale with the generous help of a ‘Go and See’ bursary from a-n The Artists Information Company. I will be writing about my experiences by blog, reviewing a couple of the shows and giving a talk in ROOM (mobile art space in Kent) once I return.
For a link to the announcement go to; http://new.a-n.co.uk/news/single/venice-bursaries-23-artists-to-benefit-from-a-n-scheme/3
I look forward to seeing the work of artists I greatly admire including Joana Vasconcelos, Berlinde de Bruyckere, Alfredo Jarr, and Elpida Hadzi-vasileva, plus many more. The curator for this years show Massimiliano Gioni is a man after my own heart , as a collector of encyclopedias I quite admire the idea of “an imaginary museum that was meant to house all worldly knowledge, bringing together the greatest discoveries of the human race, from the wheel to the satellite” (http://www.labiennale.org/en/art/index.html). As if Venice itself was not interesting enough, I hope I can rise to the challenge of not getting overwhelmed.
Early in January I was commissioned by Curiocity to produce a map of London dissected, using the metaphor of the body to describe the city . I collaborated with writers Henry Eliot and Matt Lloyd to create an image which combined all the amazing stories which would be contained within the work. The work is now off to the printers, and I am excited to see how the final print turns out!
This image is a preview of Issue D of Curiocity (www.curiocity.org.uk), which will be published in May, sold in a range of London Bookshops.
New Collaboration with Curious City
I am currently working on a new map, this time of London. The Curious City team (www.curiocity.org.uk) have invited me to make them a drawing working with their team of writers to produce a bodily map of the city.
