Just been bumbling along these last few days. Stayed at home this weekend, without any company, which made it pretty quiet. Gave me the chance to do mundane things like tidying my room, plaiting my hair – I now have a surprisingly small head, and actually finishing my creative writing assignment though. Highlight was going to see The Educators. Lowlight was finally facing my bank account and shocking myself with my own profligacy. Selling stuff on eBay now to try and make amends... Cue frequent refreshing of the page to see how fast the bids are mounting up. It's already up to £4.20 and I only made the listings this afternoon, so not doing too badly.
I went to a really interesting exhibition on Friday at the Millennium Gallery in Sheffield. The Real Ideal – Utopian Ideals and Dystopian Realities. It was mixed media and there were some really amazing pieces. The idea was to subvert the viewers’ expectations, showing scenes that should be idyllic but which contained an edge of darkness.
There were some huge photographs by Gregory Crewsdon. They were incredibly detailed, with amazing depth of field (everything was in focus), bold colours and suggestive lighting. One was of a woman, sat alone on her bed. From the door to her bed lay a trail of roses. But not your average Valentine’s style floor littered with delicate petals, this was a trail of mud, thorns and vivid blood red petals. The woman’s arms and legs were covered in mud, in the bed lay the thorny remains of the rose bush that had been dragged through the house. On the bedside table were pills, alcohol and cigarettes. A suitcase sat in the hall, waiting by the door. The picture was saturated with detail. Others in the series showed a car parked in the middle of an intersection, driver’s door wide open, the passenger left alone in the car; and a Bree-type lady with red hair sat at dinner with her son, waiting for whoever was meant to be sat in the two empty places. The meat on the table dripped blood onto the paint and you could see the defeat in the woman’s eyes.
Still lives by Mr and Mrs Ivan Morrison showed photographs of bouquets of flowers in the tradition of the old masters. However, juxtaposed against the blooms were images of death and decomposition – a dead pigs head beneath one, wood pigeons below another, and putrefying fish below a third. At first you don’t recognise what is lurking below the flowers, but once you do, your reaction to the whole scene is transformed to one of disgust.
Katie Deith used painting to create her sense of unease. The pictures were inspired by holiday brochures. They showed beautiful natural scenes painted in saturated colours, with the colour conspiring to create an edge of menace.
The music from a video installation helped create the mood. The song was very tender, but in listening to the lyrics the despair became apparent.
I went to a really interesting exhibition on Friday at the Millennium Gallery in Sheffield. The Real Ideal – Utopian Ideals and Dystopian Realities. It was mixed media and there were some really amazing pieces. The idea was to subvert the viewers’ expectations, showing scenes that should be idyllic but which contained an edge of darkness.
There were some huge photographs by Gregory Crewsdon. They were incredibly detailed, with amazing depth of field (everything was in focus), bold colours and suggestive lighting. One was of a woman, sat alone on her bed. From the door to her bed lay a trail of roses. But not your average Valentine’s style floor littered with delicate petals, this was a trail of mud, thorns and vivid blood red petals. The woman’s arms and legs were covered in mud, in the bed lay the thorny remains of the rose bush that had been dragged through the house. On the bedside table were pills, alcohol and cigarettes. A suitcase sat in the hall, waiting by the door. The picture was saturated with detail. Others in the series showed a car parked in the middle of an intersection, driver’s door wide open, the passenger left alone in the car; and a Bree-type lady with red hair sat at dinner with her son, waiting for whoever was meant to be sat in the two empty places. The meat on the table dripped blood onto the paint and you could see the defeat in the woman’s eyes.
Still lives by Mr and Mrs Ivan Morrison showed photographs of bouquets of flowers in the tradition of the old masters. However, juxtaposed against the blooms were images of death and decomposition – a dead pigs head beneath one, wood pigeons below another, and putrefying fish below a third. At first you don’t recognise what is lurking below the flowers, but once you do, your reaction to the whole scene is transformed to one of disgust.
Katie Deith used painting to create her sense of unease. The pictures were inspired by holiday brochures. They showed beautiful natural scenes painted in saturated colours, with the colour conspiring to create an edge of menace.
The music from a video installation helped create the mood. The song was very tender, but in listening to the lyrics the despair became apparent.‘What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way.
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way.
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you and,
No, I don't want to fall in love.
With you.
With you.’
posted by abbutterflie | 10:49 PM
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