Auto-Anomalies - a-n The Artists Information Company

Venue: Myles Meehan Gallery
Location

As humans we are predisposed to recognise and respond to faces; two dots and a dash become eyes and mouth, tonal contrast in a cloud becomes a face. Jonathan Marshall uses this predisposition as a base upon which to explore his medium. The subject matter of the face is returned to time and again, in fact approximately one thousand four hundred times. The impact of seeing this collection is at first overwhelming. We wonder why this theme is so zealously explored. We question the motives and aims of such a task. We need to take our time and look at each part in turn.

Let us start by looking at Headworks, a wall of charcoal faces of various expressions and clarity. Their similarity of scale and proximity tells us that they belong together. Marshall reinforces this by placing the drawings in a mosaic of black and white creating an almost hypnotic effect; our eyes are drawn from one image to the next. It is a silent football crowd, a mass and a rebel mob. Grouped together but kept separate, some appear clearly defined others smudged and overworked so as to obliterate any recognisable features. Yet, due to the context of the crowd we know what they are.

In the painted panels of Auto-Anomalies we meet another group, this time they have been given space to breathe. The small chunky wooden boards remind us of icons, objects that we should revere. We could pick up and hold these solid little paintings and become familiar with the characters that they present. If we see them as icons, then they are secular humanist icons; they look internally for answers not outwards.

In this series the richness of the paint and the use of muted colour makes these faces appear more serene. The contrasts in their rendering appear more pronounced creating a dialogue between identifiable faces. We are able to see each image separately as well as just part of a whole. Are these self-portraits? Are they progeny? Marshall speaks to us here in multiple voices; these are images of child, adolescent and man. Those with heavily marked, coarsened skin appear aged and wear worn; others hewn from a few oily smears are newborn. We do not know if these people are alive or dead, awake or peacefully asleep, we are given no context other than the group. So we have to make up our own minds. This could be a memorial or a monument.

The suggestion of a context in Auto-Abominablesshows us for the first time that these faces could belong to some particular place and time. These shambolic men have been crudely made and then dumped in the landscape. They appear large and bulky. Abandoned souls in search of something, a home and warmth, even love. Their ‘lostness’ contrasts against our own security as we stand in this warm and well-lit gallery. Look at this work and understand that this is what life can be like. Follow the wiry lines of nerves and sinews travelling through the body suggesting a juddering electric pulse; instead of a heart they have a stalling engine that falters and starts. These men, these scarecrows. Hollow Men, husks of clothing stuffed with bones and straw, brainless and heartless they whisper and murmur. They walk through a deadland, void of meaning. Marshall’s heroes resonate with their own isolation. They continue on through the tragedy resolute in this elegiac performance.

However, before we feel too despondent, we can see a contradiction in all of this. Take note of the force and confidence of the mark-making (as apparent in all the work), the black on white drawing, the single mark that is left untouched. These images have been made by a confident hand. Can we detect a sense of pleasure in the power of the artist to create his alter ego? There is defiance and survival echoing through this entire collection.

The ceramic heads stand solid and firm. These appear at first to be brutal objects. Noses bashed in, cuts and gashes. The poured glazes are allowed to follow the contours of the face and drip and pool along the surface. These heads are Frankensteinian, patched together half robot half human. They have been made from the earth, crudely moulded and pushed into form, their skin marked and scarred. The rawness of these works exemplifies Marshall’s technique, nothing too finished. Even the plinths are in keeping with the roughness of the objects they support.

Behind these heads are more drawings. This time though the heads become comets falling through the sky. Marshall shows us the moment before impact, before some cataclysmic event. The action is frozen; as observers we are powerless against this force of nature. Tears fall from the sky, the comet-heads are destructive yet innocent, like children caught up in a game that they don’t fully understand, unaware of the consequences of their actions. So we complete this exhibition by looking upwards, while we remain fixed on the ground.

Although at times Marshall’s work seems painfully introspective it remains an assured and confident statement. The vulnerability of the figures and the sense of memory and loss evident in the work shows us that to be a male artist, in the 21st century, doesn’t have to be all about posturing and bravado. This work is part of the tradition of painting, the skills and the investigation involved in pursuing an idea is evidence of commitment and sincerity. Marshall acknowledges that his work is unavoidably ‘self-portrait’, but in looking at the self we consider wider concerns of existence and humanity. So after everything we have gone through, our self-reflection and careful thought, we are left with more questions than answers.