A SUCCESSFUL MIXTURE OF SCRUTINY, CRAFSMANSHIP AND WIT, MAKE FOR LAYERS OF HUMAN INTEREST AND A SOLID SHOW.
Newcastle’s exciting new contemporary art gallery has set off on the right foot with work from a collective of ten Newcastle University graduates, amongst whom the likes of Joseph Hiller and Martin Newth stand out for quality.
At the Globe Gallery, the Lure of Hiller’s sculptural piece captures the eye the moment upon walking in the door. A play with scale gives illusion of a grown man the proportions of what is initially perceived as a child. Naked and hunched, this figure exudes vulnerability. He stares at a nearby contraption with a dubious expression, while his sideways glare is both defiant and apprehensive. It seems certain that he will proceed to enter the mystifying cage-like contraption through a conveniently him-sized-rabbit-hole… tentatively, exhibiting all the marks of psychological discomfort.
Too tempted to read my own misgivings about the life’s challenges in this tormented form, I then approach the cage. Although bizarre and somewhat menacing from the outside, I imagine a womb-like chamber, if I were to stand inside. Would this figure of the man be sheltered or trapped? Is he better off avoiding it altogether, exposed but free?
Despite the echoing of leaded, cold material, there is a telling juxtaposition between the solid bulk of the figure and the open structure of the cage; they may be in contention, but together they complete this world of their own. A definitive separation, however, exists around the steel world they inhabit, where the lure of a perplexing rabbit hole alludes to an esoteric purpose. The structure does not beckon the viewer in the same way it seems to call the figure. I am left questioning if this deliberate, or has the artist missed the added dimension of direct interaction with the viewer, despite the phenomenological nature of the piece?
Delving further into the vaults of the venue dwells Martin Newth’s Sentinel series, the result of the artist’s exploration of a number of small military bunkers, or “pillboxes” around the UK.
Redend Point consists of three screen projections filmed through the slits of a pillbox. Standing at the middle looking to either side, an unexpected and complete panoramic view emerges before me. The seemingly random tilt of the screens makes the horizons match exactly, with my brain compensating for the gaps between each slit. Aided by the audio, my place is forgotten. Through the projection, I find myself at Redend Point, just before sunset. Looking much like any generic UK coastline, familiar memories are triggered in an instant and dared into feeling a false sense of ease with the piece.
In the next room, a series of negative prints of landscapes in dazzling red, made by transforming the pillbox into a camera obscura, stretches along the wall. Next to them, ten prints of the pillboxes themselves are displayed. The camera is turned on itself and I suddenly become aware of the artist’s full engagement with the locations. Sentinel is not about the final images but about Newth’s attraction with those dilapidated blocks of concrete; secretive places from which to spy, cold and decadent remnants of horrors past. He must have spent hours crouching inside them… with spiders! The familiar quickly turns to discomfort and I am aware that the piece has called my bluff.
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