Yayoi Kusama, All the Eternal Love I Have for the Pumpkins, 2016, Wood, mirror, plastic, acrylic, LED, 292.4 x 415 cm

Wharf Road, N1 7RW, until 30 July, 2016

The exhibition which reflects Kusama’s lifelong fascination with the infinite and the sublime, presents paintings, sculptures and immersive mirror rooms. Her vast oeuvre reflects Kusama’s interior world. The works feel both conceptual and has organic qualities.

Wharf Gallery 1 consists of the Chandelier of Grief encased by a white hexagonal room entered via a sliding door. The door is operated by a gallery invigilator with a stop watch – which though necessary when the number of visitors is significant – is somewhat ironic as it works contrary to the purpose of the piece i.e. to evoke a sense of an unlimited state of being.

[I suggest to visitors who want to mediation on the potential of their multiple selves in a room evoking a sense of endless time-space, that they arrive early (opens at 10 am) as visitors enter the room in twos and during my visit significant numbers of people joined the queue by 10.30 am.]

Given my own fascination with light and time-space related concepts, my experience of all three mirror rooms was uplifting and energising. I did not experience the sense of self-obliteration Kusama invites viewers to confront. Far from suspending my sense of self, the infinitely mirrored spaces motivated me to embrace our human potential to continually expand, explore and discover.

Yayoi Kusama, When the Lights in my Heart Go, Stainless stell, aluminium, 2016, 300 x 300 x 300 cm

Kusama has been working with mirrored interiors for more than 40 years. When the Lights in my Heart Go is positioned in the Waterside Garden. It is made from polished steel. The darkness of the interior space is interrupted by small holes thereby allowing natural light to enter the room; the light rays then intersect one another so the walls are peppered with direct and reflected light.

The intensity of light within the room and the directions in which the light rays radiate alters so the interior can be dim or intensely lit according to the ever-changing light conditions produced by the sun outside.

The room is installed in the Waterside Garden alongside another piece entitled Narcissus Garden, 1966 which is a permanent installation. Placing these installations in the garden side-by-side emphasises the intersections between interior and exterior spaces.

The work comprises 873 spheres of polished steel, 30 cm, which reflect light as they spin, cajole each other and glide across the water-lilied pond motivated by the interplay of recycled water tumbling from a small fountain and wind conditions.

Thus, although they are materially identical, they each have unique characteristics including metaphysical (time-space) qualities which is intensified by their shifting proximity to each other (like shifting constellations).

I have been reading mythological texts recently with a focus on representations of the underworld and have been struck by the notion of the underworld as a metaphor for the other than conscious mind. In Book 6 of Virgil’s Aeneas, his heroic protagonist travels to the underworld to resolve issues associated with the death of his father which cannot be approached in the everyday material world. Kusama’s poetry demonstrates her intentions to seek ‘truth’ from otherworldly realms:

I Want to Keep Living, But…
From within the radiantly shining sky,
appear quietly my infinitely earnest wishes for
finding the truth.
From the end of the universe, they have finally come out
to talk to the dead and the living.
(extract taken from Morris, p. 107)

Light is therefore an apposite means of expression for Kusama who uses it’s time-space qualities to represent her own ever shifting, expanding, pied interior and exterior experiences both consciously (pumpkins as a selected motif for the “joy of living”) and other than consciously (the realms of potential self-obliteration and infinity nets).

Thus, light’s non-material qualities are used to make visitors sensitive to their potential to extend their conceptualization of the extraordinary and expanding world we inhabit and co-create – we can simply visualise and contemplate light or we can contemplate Kusama’s invitation to become light.

ST George Street, W1S 1FE, until 30 July 2016

Mayfair Gallery 1

The exhibition at Victoria Miro’s Mayfair gallery comprises fourteen painting by Kusama produced 2015 -2016. All the paintings share the uniform dimensions – 194 x 194 cm.

Yayoi Kusama, My Heart’s Abode, 2016, Acrylic on canvas, 194 x 194 cm

All the paintings were given titles retrospectively which are meaningful to Kusama:

Shedding Tears to the Season, 2015, Acrylic on canvas, 194 x 194 cm

“The paintings are filled with an overflowing abundance of ideas that just keep bubbling up inside my mind. Everyone asks me where my inspiration come from, but I just pick up the paint brush and flow my hand and the work just flow from me. (Quotation reprinted in Victoria Miro’s guide to the exhibition)

The paintings are mainly monochrome; often with strongly contrasting colours. Images include eyes, faces and cell-like, organic structures. The marks consist of dots; often layered and irregular lines. At the centre of five paintings is a square block of colour one of which (white) is left uninterrupted. The works appear to be a vibrant concoction of primeval and psychedelic forces. I was reminded of aboriginal ancestral dream journey paintings and of looking at stunning geographical feature of the earth from space (see image below).

Yayoi Kusama, My Eternal Life, Acrylic on canvas, 194 x 194 cm, 2016

Entry to both galleries is free. Tuesday to Saturday, 10 am – 6pm.

Morris, F, Yayoi Kusama,(2012), London: TATE


Gillian L-B, Brain in Flow, 2016

Artist Statement:

My abstract paintings comprise millions of tiny particles (e.g. pigment, water) which run together in waves to form images which like photographs, develop to reveal something about the fluctuating frequencies active in my entire nervous system as I paint.

These images do not simply encode body and brain activity, they encode consciousness which is intrinsic to human evolution and survival.  Although there is a direct correspondence between awareness and consciousness, awareness can be articulated to some extent whereas consciousness has yet to be located.

In my work I attempt too generate spaces in which my mind can inform me about things I cannot otherwise know.

I am interested in the creative potentials of contemporary scientific theories for the purpose of developing my arts practice; they provide me with unfamiliar concepts, techniques and material which I can use to explore the creative potential of consciousness.

As an artist working predominantly with visual perception, light is a significant component in and subject of my work.  Light, seen by us as colour, dominates how we perceive the universe and navigate space.

In my work light creates space, from, paradox, shock and nuance.  Relationships united by light/colour often produce paradox and striking juxtapositions.  When I observe my paintings as they develop, I notice intersections of paint which form miniature compositions, or statements.

What interests me about these miniature compositions is the subtlety. or intensity, of their disparate yet coexisting visual statements for example, delicate arrow-head formations of fine lines leading the eye away from complex collisions of coloured strata, or complete loss of definition, or a wildly different rhythm.

Gillian L-B, Untitled, Ink on Mylar, 2016

Gillian L-B, Untitled, Ink on Mylar, 2016

Notes for those who like data:

Brainwaves are measured in Hertz (HZ). Infra-low waves measure <0.5 HZ, delta waves 0.5 to 3 HZ, theta waves 3 t 8 HZ, alpha waves 8 to 12 HZ, beta waves 12 to 38 HZ and gamma waves 38 to 42 HZ (really buzzing!).

If you think of the electromagnetic spectrum as spanning 2500 miles, the part visible to the human eye as coloured light spans the width of a one pence coin – and invisible areas are infinite.

Electromagnetic energy is a form of energy that is reflected, or emitted, from objects in the form of electrical and magnetic waves that can travel through space – this includes you.

The conscious electromagnetic field theory (Cemi, McFadden, 2007) proposes that consciousness is a manifestation of the brain’s electromagnetic field. This places human consciousness on the same electromagnetic spectrum as light and auditory wavelengths.

It is estimated that the light we see has been travelling for about 13.4 billion years – this is called the ‘observable universe’ – this information is susceptible to change.

Gillian L-B, Untitled, Ink on Mylar, 6 x 4 inch



I was keen to see the content of the Warhol exhibition at Colchester’s Firstsite Gallery last weekend.

Works include:
The Shadow (1981), Gun (1981) and Self-portrait Strangulation (1976). (See below)

The range of works exhibited, which included drawings, signed posters, magazine covers, and screen prints, provided a comprehensive range of Warhol themes and interests.

Because of its capacity to repeat, standardize and mass produce identical, relatively inexpensive objects, the role of the machine in the industrial revolution was regarded as the antithesis of art.

So, when Andy Warhol, coming as he did from a background in illustration and design, business and publicity, embraced the art world’s worst nightmare with slogans such as ‘I consume therefore I am’ (an ironic, capitalist twist on Descartes’ ‘Cogito Ego Sum’ or more fully ‘I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am’ – which was proof to Descartes that he knew he existed), Warhol stood up as a political artist.

He audaciously confronted the threats, perceived by some, posed by machine made, mass produced objects untouched by human hands until they arrived, at speed, on a conveyor belt ready to be packed and shipped off to eager consumers.

With screen prints such as ‘Marilyn Diptych, 1962’ (image of a global icon produced in the year of her death) Warhol exposed a growing fear in some people of the loss of individuality (e.g. reflecting on a Marxist fear of ‘alienation’ which came from living in stratified societies and working in high-tech factories; were tasks were so fragmented that an individual’s involvement led, in some cases, to feelings of estrangement from the end product and the dehumanizing machinery which produced it).

However, Warhol’s screen prints were not precise and therefore not identical. He called his studio ‘The Factory’ and employed assistants but they produced images which, like disfigured stamps which had slipped through quality control, were unique, revealed the infallibility of the maker behind them; and where therefore valued by some and valuable to others.

I think Warhol would have been amused to know that in 2002 one of his self-portraits appeared on American stamps.

The themes in Andy Warhol’s work were as prolific and diverse as American culture itself: death, consumerism, capital punishment, guns, money, cultural icons, celebrity status, beauty, media, symbolism etc. His manner of handling these themes is rather like a disassociated TV viewer witnessing a horrific event.

Electric Chair, 1971

I found this image particularly mesmerising. Out of all the framed screen prints of the electric chair from Warhol’s ‘Death and Disaster’ series early 1960s, this screen print was covered from the left to right edges in wide sweeps of acrylic paint – like blood thrown from a bucket. It contains the most vivid colours and was therefore all the more shocking because the colours and content are strikingly incongruent.

To date, the Firstsite Gallery, Colchester (my home Town) has struggled to survive though under the temporary but passionate Directorship of Anthony Roberts the number of visitors rose significantly.

Sally Shaw who is currently Head of Programme at Modern Art Oxford will take-up the vacant post in April, 2016. This new appointment should see the Gallery flourish. I hope it develops a strong team, puts effort into improving its PR, exhibits excellent art, provides exciting opportunities and welcomes enthusiastic visitors.

On Saturday morning there had been 500 visitors in two hours which is brilliant news! If you live locally, do visit and consider putting Firstsite on your list of Galleries worth visiting and promoting!

Interestingly, the Andy Warhol website contains brilliant resources for educational purposes.

Chestershire Films, 1:52:40

Reflecting on the impact of Pop Art on art made me think about the use of digital media and IT in art now. I am an art student and yet my experience of using IT in relation to art is very limited e.g. using social media for self-promotion and professional communication.

Things need to go a lot further than this, and at speed. Staff and students of fine art must have the facilities, technology and software which will enable them to explore the potential applications of IT in art in a university or art school setting.


John Hoyland: Power Stations, Painting 1964 – 1982
Newport Street Gallery
Newport Street
SE11 6AJ

Advance Town 29.3.80, Acrylic on cotton duck, 84 x 78 inch (2134 x 1981 mm)

Firstly, the exhibition. John Hoyland: Power Stations, Paintings 1964 –1982, is Newport Street’s inaugural exhibition. Entrance to the Gallery is free and the exhibition runs until 3 April 2016.

“Paintings are there to be experienced … [they] are not to be reasoned with, they are not to be understood, they are to be recognised.” – John Hoyland, 1979

I think Hoyland would have enjoyed seeing his work exhibited in a gallery which places them firmly in the foreground ready to be recognised. The rooms are inhabited by the paintings, light and air. There are no distracting labels to read and the invigilators are unobtrusive.

Hoyland, 12.6.66, Acrylic on canvas, dimensions unknown

Upon entry to each of the Gallery spaces, the size of the largest of the canvases at 2134 x 3658 mm (84 x 144 inches) appear to make the expansion of colour all the more arresting.

However, when I stood in front of the paintings for some time I realized that the variation in tone and contrast between colours in even small sections of the paintings impacted on my retina so that they moved beyond the boundaries of the canvas. That is, the afterimage of blocks of colour hovered and flickered above and between contrasting areas of colour and momentarily on to the white walls as I moved – see image below:

New Year’s Day (Blue Flame) 1.1.81 Acrylic on canvas, dimensions unknown.

I was interested in the tensions Hoyland builds-up within each canvas e.g. between contrasting colours; between geometric forms and their unruly edges and between large and intense blocks of colour and the thinned, narrow rivulets of paint which runs down behind them.

For me the paintings were exuberant and provocative – they motivate.

John Hoyland (1934–2011) is associated with the abstract movement in Britain from the 1960s until his death in 2011. It is the first major survey of Hoyland’s work since 2006.
Hoyland and Damien Hirst were friends so Hirst is aware that Hoyland resisted labelling such as “leading British abstract painter”.

I noticed that the text printed in the Gallery’s leaflet on the exhibition expresses a more generic impression: “John Hoyland was considered one of the most important artists of his generation.” It does not say by whom.

It always interests me when generalized statements are made about art and artists which are not attributed to anyone. Such statements prohibit questioning which is surely what art is about.

The text goes on to say: that Hoyland “progressed through multiple stages of investigation in his work, each of which can be seen on some levels as a negotiation between the exercise of control and embrace of chance.” I have to say that this kind of comment really has become a hackneyed cliché; it appears to be obligatory when discussing abstract art to acknowledge ‘happy accidents’ when it seems obvious that they are intrinsic to the unfolding of life.

In conversation with Tim Marlow, Director of Artistic Programmes, Royal Academy of Arts, Damien Hirst, in the role of curator, makes some interesting points about why he chose Hoyland’s work for his inaugural exhibition e.g. colour which “keeps moving” and “organised chaos”. See video below:

Curatorial comments based on appreciation of key works would bring a welcome human dimension to the texts which galleries offer as a brief guide to art works. E.g. in the video Damien Hirst speaks about his regard for 9.11.68 a painting he had in his office and looked at over a 6 month period.

Hoyland, 9.11.68, Acrylic on canvas, 84.3 x 144.1 inch (2140 x 3660 mm)

In his introduction to John Hoyland: Scatter the Devils, 2009, art critic Andrew Lambirth makes the following statement:

Artists give form and coherence to states of mind. They enunciate and bear witness. They encompass emotions not easily described. Through art we attempt to reconcile the contradictions of human life and contemplate its wholeness. Lambirth, 2009, P.7.

This raises questions about shared experience which operates at the level of intuition as well as intellect. Just as a valued piece of music continues to unfold to a listener over time, I feel that abstract paintings offer a relationship that forms within oneself and others which provides insight when we are in rapport (Mid 17th Century, French: rapporter – to bring back).

Secondly, the £25m gallery which was designed by architects Caruso St John. The gallery spans 37,000 square feet and includes six exhibition spaces – one of which is eleven meters high and can be viewed on two levels.

The construction of the gallery involved the merger of three listed buildings. Coincidently, the buildings had been purpose-built in 1913 as scenery painting studios for the Victorian theatre industry in London’s West End.

While the rooms are more spacious than many galleries, it does follow the familiar trend of white walls and ceilings (some of which are vaulted) and highly-polished grey cement floors. One unique structural feature which I particularly love are the wooden spiral staircases with their smooth, curving marble inset handrails.

I do love its location in Lambert on the south side of the Thames surrounded by residential properties many of which provide social housing. However, the gallery might indicate the start of massive social and cultural change – erasure of local communities in favour of flats for high earners and wealthy landlords.

I will certainly visit Newport Street Gallery regularly. The exhibition inspired me to research John Hoyland’s work. It is a great new venue for art in London and I am very curious to see more of Hirst’s curatorial choices.

I did not visit the dazzling to look at Pharmacy2 restaurant in the Gallery on this occasion (I spontaneously called into the Ragged Canteen down the road part of which is artists’ studios) but it had a really high-energy atmosphere.

NB Vauxhall is governed by Lambeth Council who is currently ‘consulting’ local people about their plans for redevelopment. I do hope the way they enforce their plans will not echo the experiences of people living in West Hendon, Barnet, where regeneration caused some residents misery, anxiety and the pain of unwanted upheaval (See The Estate We’re In, BBC 1, Tuesday, 15th march, 2016).

It is not that the reconstruction of weary buildings is unnecessary, it is that co-dependent and settled communities of people on low-incomes (by London standards) are being destroyed; and ‘residents’ displaced without commensurate resettlement deals in some cases – including eviction for those who do not have security of tenure.

I think social change should be ushered with an emphasis on care and compassion for the communities it will effect.


Gillian LB, Time Capsule, 2015, Ink and paint on acetate

When talking about an abstract painting it is far easier for viewers to ask, and for painters to answer “how” questions than it is for either of them to discuss “what” questions.

When viewers begin to deconstruct an abstract painting, they divide it into fragments as though these fragments operate in isolation (and once isolated indeed they do – like miniature paintings in their own right).

When talking about what viewers like about a painting they talk about colour, movement, contrasting marks and tones and perhaps forms which they compare with objects found in the world outside the painting – including from the realms of mythology and other fictions.

People see a composition which they cannot explain. This is because the composition/construction of an abstract painting abjures contextualisation. That is, the context in which it exists is continuous – like a rapidly moving infinity symbol – it both is, and is a tiny fraction of a time capsule.

Now you could say that this must also be true of representative paintings. However, the painter of a representative picture paints with a degree of intention e.g. that of depicting something specific and discernible to the viewer.

However, the painter of an abstract work does not know what the final outcome will be nor the definitive origin, evolution or precise reason for the ending (i.e. the comprehensive “what”) of a painting.

Thus, unlike a representative picture, an abstract painting which evolved from a multidimensional fusion of coincidences (synchronised by the painter’s decisions) remains forever in the NOW in a perpetual state of construction.

NB The image above Time Capsule, 2015 was given the title retrospectly.