- Venue
- The Wasp Room gallery
- Location
- East Midlands
Naomi Terry: ‘In a City Not Too Far Away…’
TETHER, The Wasp Room gallery
Artist group Tether have a relationship with cardboard. In past exhibitions we have seen gigantic cardboard antlers from artist Deborah Swann and the ambitious cardboard-clad bunker created for Murder At The Kremlin, not to mention a piece from Naomi Terry herself prior to her current solo exhibition. Although a material commonly associated with Tether’s art school roots, they have proven through numerous exhibits that up-and-coming artists have not only a fascination with it but a mastery of its versatility. Perhaps it is not least because it is so commonplace a material that we are all the more amazed by its transformation, which can be nothing short of miraculous when convincingly carried out.
The Wasp Room Gallery currently presents the first solo exhibition of Naomi Terry, a Nottingham Trent University graduate who has developed this exhibition during a six-week residency. What has been created is an imaginary super-hero, named ‘Wasp Man’ in relation to the setting, and we encounter his life from a slightly voyeuristic stance. Built into the gallery space is the lair of what appears to be a creature half man, half wasp, and through the various components of the exhibition we are drawn into a surreal but worryingly convincing alternate version of reality. Every detail has been attended to in it’s creation, such as the hive-like honeycomb patterned floor, ceiling and window frames. Constructed almost entirely from brown cardboard it is nest-like, with shredded paper bedding the entrance corridor, yet simultaneously it is highly futuristic. There is an understated sophistication in the test tubes of toxins and pseudo-electronic buttons that adorn the walls of this secret space. Furthering our belief in Wasp Man is the map of Nottingham where he has apparently pinpointed the locations of his super-villain enemies. It is difficult to discredit this information as I struggle to remember having visited any of these places; perhaps they are as well hidden as Wasp Man’s own hideout?
As an artwork it is incredibly immersive, and during the time I inhabited it it was a real, tangible place with an infallible set of realities. The cardboard floor compresses under our shoeless step, we can peer out at the dark city through misted windows. Through this physical encounter we can begin to imagine Wasp Man’s dimensions, and through the pictures of his enemies and with his things around the place there is a strong sense of personality. Understandable then, is our niggling feeling that we are intruding, furthered by the brilliantly achieved atmosphere of imminence – as if Wasp Man is just about to return from his duties in the city. A missing set of wings, of goggles, all indicate an absent presence, and thoughts turn to how he might react to our intrusion. Perhaps Wasp Man is animal, but with human emotions, making him all the more unpredictable and slightly unnerving. He falls into numerous dualities of categorisation, between reality and imagination, comedy and danger, and we can empathise with his uneasy situation as he is rejected from society. The sound emanating from his television hints at this ambivalence, interchanging super-hero soundtracks with nature footage commentary on the characteristics of wasps.
This is a lonely place, made for one; purpose built and hidden away from the world as a secluded hideout or retreat. A tangible sadness reverberates through ‘In A City Not Too Far Away…’, highlighted through the accompanying story written by Matthew Robins. Entitled ‘Flyboy & The Robot’ it is charming in its childlike format, with grammar often forgotten and with simple, meaningful straightforwardness. Just like Wasp Man, Flyboy is ostracised by ‘normal’ people, finding friends only in those who are similarly outcast. His friendship that develops with a robot may be unlikely, but it is one we can understand and perhaps even relate to.
Terry has a talent for creating physical embodiments of some of the joys of childhood. Inhabiting Wasp Man’s lair is like momentarily stepping into the someone’s over-active imagination. You want to believe in what you are seeing, to become a part of the things you thought only existed inside your head many years ago. It is notable however, that in putting these imaginings into a reality of sorts, the idealised scenes that can be ever elaborated in our mind can no longer be sustained, and we are forced to realise the limitations of materials and of our own creation. In correspondence with Terry, she emphasised the tension that exists in her work, forever on the cusp of failure as the perfection she attempts collapses when brought into actuality. We face our childhood from an adult perspective that is unavoidably, perhaps sadly, practical and realistic. Terry gives us a dose of nostalgia, ultimately reminding us that just because we grew up, it doesn’t mean we forgot our imaginary friends and heroes, hiding places and fortresses.