Mary-Ann Orr, ‘Wreck’, mixed media, 2013. © the artist.

Just beyond the entrance to Gray’s annual degree show, there is an impressive sight. Like flags leading an official procession, or a great parade, this year’s crop of talent is introduced by the seemingly attractive material hangings of Mary-Ann Orr. Like flies to jam, wide-eyed visitors buzz into the school and head straight for the floating white welcome party. Upon closer inspection of these drapes, however, keen optimism quickly disintegrates. Visitors then realise they may be in for a rough ride. This isn’t just a night about free wine and patting people on the back – you’re going to have to think.

The only problem with Orr’s offerings is that they are so clever, one could not possibly write about them without deterring from their impact. The whole package of the hangings and the drawings and, also, their relationship to the found subjects is so special that it would be impolite and insensitive to say anymore. The coveted spot after the entrance, in terms of space and wow-factor, was deservedly allocated this year. Some years it is not.

The most dismal art at any degree show are things which tackle the subject of being either a) an art student or b) discussing the transition from the safety of education to the unknown of ‘the real world’. These topics are so insipid, they should be discouraged. For an extremely brief second, a nanosecond, if you will, I feared that Clare Burnett’s lino prints may be in danger of falling into this surprisingly over-implemented category. How wrong was I – they are so much more.

Clare Burnett, ‘Bang Bang’, Ink on Paper, 2013. © the artist

Burnett’s little corner of the vast show is able to remove viewers from the wider situation. This is achieved through expert technique combined with the use of her space. Within the tiny area, six large and intimidating lino prints dominate the walls. In a blend of what successfully can be described as a mind-blowing cocktail of Tracey Emin meets Caravaggio meets The Mighty Boosh meets 1920s cinema, Burnett spills her deepest thoughts and fears to the World in an explicit, yet humorous, fashion.

In print #3, ‘Bang Bang’, we see a portrait of the artist tearing her hair out whilst trying to deal with a screaming pack of her hypothetical children right in the centre of the work. Between the fraught medusa-like mother and the wailing brats is a single parody of Dali’s melting clocks. The form of this object imitates the biological clock which a large number of women start to hear ticking in their late twenties – time, though this effect is often borne out of paranoia, seems as if it is slipping away. The openness to discuss things which, until recently, were not really appropriate to mention to utter strangers is what ties Burnett to Emin. The disembodied head, the visible acts of screaming and having fraught faces pressed right up against the foreground are what give the work a somewhat Caravaggesque and theatrical quality.

The facet of inner consciousness, the fact that creating offspring is playing on her mind, is framed by a celluloid film strip. This central movie is a recurring motif in all of the prints within the series. It acts as a playback of what is occupying the artist’s thoughts. Surrounding the film, in the rest of the prints, are things which are actually happening in her real life. In ‘Bang Bang’, for example, we see the artist’s opinion on the recent Aberdonian student plight against bus fares – that made me laugh, as I totally agree. The way she suspends these items, out of thin air, and then adds in the odd witty quote, as if it were being said in haste, is what links the pieces to whacky contemporary comedies. The lack of colour is powerful. The contrast between light and dark again makes these pieces appear like a contemporary take on the Baroque. Another Baroque-like element, in terms of spatial awareness, is the strategic placing of a lino-cut on the floor. Although you are free to walk on this, it does not look inviting. Visitors tend to skirt around the sides of this object, and thus are forced right into the overbearing images with no escape. This may have been an accident, but it’s actually rather genius. Congratulations have to go to Burnett for making a subject which can often seem trite, actually quite special indeed. Standing so close to these works is totally unnerving.

Another point during the show in which viewers may be tossed out of their comfort zone is when they are viewing the work of Rachel Currie. Currie introduces her set with a quote by John Berger, which is always a smart thing to do:

‘All sites of enforced marginalization – ghettos, shanty towns, prisons, madhouses and concentration camps have something in common with zoos.’

Upon reading this, viewers are driven into a box representing an animal enclosure. As hundreds of eyes bear down on the cage’s new victim – you – you notice that a bowl of food is situated, quite eerily, at your feet. This can provoke some interesting thoughts. Can you imagine getting on your hands and knees in front of a crowd this large? Would you like to sit at a dining table and have one hundred people watch you eat? It’s a little like, momentarily, being dropped into the ‘Big Brother’ house against will. The important aspect to note, however, is that you are free to leave. In terms of evoking what Berger was alluding to, Currie is more than successful.

One of the most interesting pieces in the whole show, however, is the other element to what she has to offer- a series of five videos playing simultaneously beside each other. Each screen depicts an enclosure at a dogs’ home. In each instance, Currie has placed herself inside the enclosures and so features on each screen. Whilst in these, she sits perfectly still and ignores her canine roommate. The dogs all react very differently to her presence. When you see them all juxtaposed like this, you get a real sense that each animal has its own personality. Although humans know this, if they have ever had a pet, it is often forgotten. When it is put as sensitively and this, it’s touching. Given the real-life set in which this is filmed, the overall impact is sad. This is intensified by watching Currie ignore all the various attempts made by the dogs to receive the reward of her mere attention.

Although, as always, the scale of what is on offer at Gray’s is huge and, as always, there are things which cover diverse topics and issues throughout, the three works mentioned here all stick in mind because of their ability to create discomfort in the viewer. A day has passed now and I am still thinking about some issues raised by what I have seen. This is surely a good sign and a good indication that this year’s degree show is, absolutely, one of the best there has been in recent years. The word I had in my head upon departure was ‘sensational’. I do not mean that my breath was taken away at any point – no. The choice of this word indicates that I feel that the purpose which smashed into British art during the mid-1990s appears to have made a return. Why this has happened is an interesting point to consider. There has to be more to this resurrection than merely that ‘the 90s’ are in. One would hope.

Gray’s School of Art Degree Show runs at the Garthdee Campus until Saturday 22nd of June. The opening times are as follows: Weekdays – 10am – 8pm; Weekends – 10am, – 5pm. Entry is free. A lot of the work is available to purchase.

Noise is all signals on and off.

If “silence is assent,” then noise testifies to that which is deemed unwanted, exceeding the normative limits and expectations of behaviour, social interaction and cultural production by disrupting conventional structures – rendering its negative character as something excessive, destructive, with a viral and contingent potency. Noise is the system-killer that generates a ‘pestilential creativity.’

Noise is manifest in diverse practices, in their persistent negativity, in their formal recalcitrance, in their cosmological excess, in their denial of service.

Beagles & Ramsay – Ash Reid – Benedict Drew – Head Gallery – Michelle Hannah – Robin Mackay – Plastique Fantastique

R-U-Dead-Yet, curated by Dane Sutherland, runs until July 19th at Summerhall, Edinburgh. The exhibition is open daily from 11am – 6pm. For more information, please click here.

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Reblogged from Creative Cultures Scotland:

Erlend and Pamela Tait, Priestess, 45cm x 30cm, colour pencil on paper. ©the artists.

The outcome of the Taits’ recent collaboration is a body of individual and collaborative works that share a common theme and style. The pictures become less portraiture than images of detached heads, which Erland is famed for, sometimes set in expansive landscapes or cloudy skies. Images such as Priestess and Double-edged sword appear to allude to themes of alienation and transcendence. The gorgeous figure in Priestess, for example, appears to materialise as if by magic from the ether around her. Set against a bright white void, the striking face steals the attention of the viewer as her beautifully patterned red and white hair, which also takes on the form of clerical vestments, dissipates into a rhythmic matrix of colour. The image is somewhat reminiscent of the spectacularly transcendent work of Edward Atkinson Hornel. In his paintings, see The Druids Bringing in the Mistletoe for example, one finds striking faces entrenched in a sea of colour and rhythmic technique which adds to the arresting powers of the characters contained within. The Taits’ imbue this sentiment with a modern day vogue. The result is that their work takes on the form of iconic magazine art. Essentially, what they have made are contemporary icons.

Erlend Tait’s drawings and paintings combine images of the human head with symbolism and pattern, and consider the nature of existence. The product of a healthy diet of Heavy Metal, comics, Science Fiction and Horror films, references are made to mythology, religion and the occult and address themes of heritage and conventional wisdom. His works in this show are painted in acrylic on watercolour paper, and combine his love of anatomical representation with techniques developed over years of working in the tradition of stained glass painting and staining.

Erlend and Pamela Tait, Double-edged sword.35cm x 30cm, coloured pencil on paper. ©the artists.

In recent years, Pamela Tait has concentrated on drawing, the main theme of this work being sexy ladies and pithy phrases, the mood shifting between mysterious and sweet. This new body of work sees a change in medium and a development in theme and style, where pattern and a sense of place and purpose are of more significance than before.

Having immersed themselves in the collaborative process, the outcome is an accumulation of ideas, themes, discussions, and techniques. Shared works might start from a conversation, or a sketch in one studio, and are then passed back and forth with enthusiasm until completion. In terms of witnessing the end product of continuous editing, by one person and then another, therefore, the works are intriguing things to look at.

‘Duologue’ runs at the Royal Glasgow Institute, Kelly Gallery, 118 Douglas Street, Glasgow, G2 4ET from the 9^th until the 25^th of May. For more information, click here.

George P Chalmers, ‘Self-Portrait’. © image courtesy of the RSA

‘I’ve always believed that art gallery interpretation shouldn’t be a one way street.  Nor should it be governed by regulations, or restricted to the written word.  Every individual can illuminate a work of art, no matter their knowledge or background, and any visitor to an art gallery should have the opportunity for interactive, immersive and self-fulfilling experiences.’ 

These strong beliefs, held by RSA curator Sandy Wood, have led to the development of an innovative exhibition called EGO: Awaiting your Interpretation to be shown in the Friends Room of the RSA from today (Monday 22^nd April) until September. The exhibition comprises self-portraits of RSA members from history to the present; from George P. Chalmers and William G. Gillies to Joyce Cairns and John Bellany. Instead of utilising the usual mode of display which has come to be standard in art galleries, interpretive control is handed directly to the visitors. Wood states:

‘There is no guideline on how to interpret, no authoritative voice; just the opportunity for visitors to be creative and let their imaginations be the guide.’

So if you have ever read gallery literature and thought it was pretentious, filled with superfluous artspeak or was actually ill-informed then this is your opportunity to rectify it. You can write or draw whatever you want beside the work. Simply pick up one of the ‘Ego’ branded postcards, respond in any way you wish and then it will find itself on the wall next to the work of art.  If you can’t make it to ‘Ego’, or if something perceptive pops into your head once you’ve left, you can also use #EgoArt to respond to the works via Twitter and Flickr. In addition, there will also be various live debates on Facebook over the coming months featuring some familiar names from the Scottish art scene, art students and school pupils. The aim is to get everyone thinking, talking and, inevitably, disagreeing!

Joyce Cairns, ‘Polish Journey’, 1998. © the artist, image courtesy of the RSA

Over the course of the run there will be interactive workshops occurring in the Friends Room. You’ll be updated on those here in due course. For now, check out the Facebook site and let the debate commence.

‘Ego: Awaiting Your Interpretation’ runs until 30 September 2013. Open Mondays 10am – 5pm, or by arrangement (call 0131 225 3922 or visit the National Galleries of Scotland Info Desk in the Weston Link). For further information, click here

This exhibition draws together four Glasgow-based artists – Nadége Druzkowski, Jitka Perinova, Dominic Snyder and Penny Chivas, each at different stages in their artistic careers and with disparate yet complementary practices. This compilation of work straddles the lines between sculpture and painting, drawing, choreography and dance, pushing the boundaries of what contemporary sculpture is today, as two-dimensional and three-dimensional forms, moving bodies and objects are interwoven in a series of works.

Together the three pieces create a mobile portrait that rips lines from the canvas (Perinova), blurs the roles of artist and muse (Snyder and Chivas), and through shadow and linear forms (Druzkowski) creates a series of sculptural motifs that are both robust and fugitive and as such sit on either side of the line between abstract images and the sculptural object.

The exhibition takes part in ‘Objective’, a Glasgow-wide celebration of sculpture and will remain open 20 April – 3 May, Friday-Sunday, 12 pm – 5 pm, by appointment.

For further information, email curators Nina Enemark and Bo Hanely at eithersideoftheline@mail.com

Heather Anderson, ‘Mouth For War’, 2012.          ©the artist

Sir John Steell’s statue of Queen Victoria sits confidently on top of the RSA building.  With her sceptre casually resting on her lap, to remind all within the vicinity of her status, the impressive woman gazes over and beyond the rooftops in front of her. As she surveys her land, the public on the street below are never within her field of vision. She appears out of reach. Being so high above, dressed in weighty robes, she also seems somewhat godly. A direct contrast to this image of majestic serenity can be seen hanging below. Stretched on banners, between the columns guarding the entrance to the building, is Victoria’s antithesis: Heather Anderson. This girl stares manically down Hanover Street, confronting those who walk towards her. As the Queen ignores you, the sovereign of this thoroughfare confronts you aggressively.  Before even entering the exhibition, contrast has already made an impact.

Inside, Anderson’s work provides further contrasts. Introducing a set of photographs is a touching video which sees the artist confessing to the audience that her exterior image does not represent the person who she believes she truly is. Whilst relaying intricate details of her body dysphoria and, inspirationally, systematically working through her insecurities in order to seek liberation, she grabs and squeezes her flesh. This motion is conflicting too. As she speaks, is she is coming to accept the feel of her body or is she trying to obliterate it?

Heather Anderson, ‘By Demons be Driven’, 2012. ©the artist

The strategic hang of the photographs also creates a visual symmetry of contrasts. The first and last images depict the artist’s arms. Tattooed on the underside of her wrist on one arm are the words ‘let go’. In the photograph of this she makes a clenched fist. In the same place on the other arm she has ‘hold on’ written. In this picture she is seen to be opening her hand. The two inside pictures, flanking the central photograph, are also a pair. In one she is covering her mouth so as not to blurt something out. In opposition to this, in the other image, she is letting her frustration out through throwing her hands up in despair. All this difference revolves around the central image – an image of her stomach. The appearance of the body here has been manipulated so it looks like it is made of wood. This hardness of this material is far from the flexibility of human flesh. Having the flesh immortalised in this manner emphasises that the internal conflict the artist experiences, as demarcated through the other four photographs, all centre on one thing – being fat. In this respect, the message of Anderson’s work is similar in theme to that of GSA alumnus, Jenny Saville.  Anderson’s subject, herself, however, does not appear as liberated as the figures one commonly associates with Saville’s large scale works. This makes Anderson come across as human and likeable.

Nicola Brennan, ‘Rabbit Talk’, 2012. ©the artist

The most controversial offerings in the show come from Nicola Brennan. In one of her pieces, a video entitled ‘Rabbit Talk’, she presents the viewer with a deliberate contrast. Whilst an American father preaches his opinions regarding sex before marriage on the right side of the screen, a carefree rabbit repeatedly washes its face, paws clasped sweetly, on the left.  This passes comment on the difference between the two species – one puts so much thought into an activity that the other doesn’t think twice about. After watching for a while you may think that Brennan is labouring the point somewhat, but, keep watching because the end, if I’ve interpreted it correctly, is really amusing.

Kevin Smith, ‘Dad and Dom’, 2012.         ©the artist

Drawings after old family photographs demonstrate that contrast was also at the forefront of Kevin Smith’s mind too during the creative process. To accompany his highly proficient pencil copies after the treasured pictures, Smith has provided Andreo Kartovsky’s thoughtful statement that images capture ‘the eternal within finite, the spirit within matter’.  Smith goes on to lament the loss of the accidental in photography in the remainder of his accompanying literature. Instead of capturing things as they are, he believes most of us instantaneously delete images which do not appear ‘perfect’. The result is that our records of life appear fictitious. In order to recreate something ‘real’, therefore, he feels he consciously has to recreate, in pencil, accidental life of the past. The way he has left sections of paper bare and then gradually fades into intense intricate detail is very powerful. It is as if he is visually demonstrating the transience of memory and, simultaneously, warning the viewer to be more select in their deleting in the future.

After noticing the contrast between the temporary advertising and permanent features on the entrance to the building, it was entertaining to actively seek further contrasts throughout the exhibition. This was an attractive option because, as per usual, the content of the exhibition is so vast and varied that it is difficult, but also amazing, to take everything in at once. Last year I discussed the recurring topic of globalisation. This year I would say, in general, a great deal of focus has been on unpicking the concept of individuality. It is interesting to consider what in society over the last year has brought this change on.  Perhaps the concerns of last year’s show speak volumes about the focus of the current one.

In addition to the three brilliant new contemporaries which I have briefly introduced here, there are 57 other exhibitors showcasing a range of styles and subjects. With such an abundance of fresh talent in one place, you are sure to find something in the RSA this spring which will either excite or inspire you. Should you indeed find inspiration, or just like the way something looks, the good news is that most of the work is for sale. This means you can snap up a bargain before one of them makes it big!

‘RSA New Contemporaries 2013’ will be at the Royal Scottish Academy, The Mound, Edinburgh until May 8^th. You can find more about the show here – http://www.royalscottishacademy.org/pages/exhibition_frame.asp?id=392

Within ‘Art of Humour’, Gallery Director Tony Davidson explores how selected contemporary artists use humour in their work. He states:

‘Humour, I foolishly thought, was mostly a soft thing, a sugar pill to make life better. I envisaged sheep on stilts, rocket dogs, cartoons of cats and other funny animals. This would be an exhibition to cheer people up in hard times. It would be entertainment like a classic Hollywood film, Errol Flynn slapping his thighs with a grin. But something more interesting and more human has appeared. Humour is the sugar pill that lets us look at life… and death.’

Alan Macdonald, ‘A Pessimist in Heaven’, oil on linen. ©the artist

After seeing some of the works to be included in this show, it is no surprise that I personally was drawn to a piece rendered in a ‘classical’ style. ‘A Pessimist in Heaven’ by Alan MacDonald shows a Franciscan monk with a cabbage, a half-(empty, I guess) bottle of Jack Daniels and white cloth attached to the knots on his cincture. Given these knots typically signify poverty, chastity and obedience it seems a bit chilling that the man’s companion is a skeleton. The implications of the items are, on the surface, ambiguous and could make for some interesting and varied interpretations – I won’t share my own. I think, however, this is specifically the great thing about Alan MacDonald’s paintings – the controversy surrounding what they mean. Is he defacing art of the past or is he regenerating it and making the aesthetic more accessible to a contemporary audience? The answer to that question aside, the reference to Bill Wither’s (or Will Smith’s, depending on your age) ‘Just the Two of Us’ on the bottom of the painting is hilarious. I would recommend downloading the song and playing it on an MP3 when you are there – it might help you understand what was going on in MacDonald’s head when he painted the piece.

David Kemp, ‘Well Heeled Bitches’, mixed media. ©the artist

The second ‘lol’ came from seeing David Kemp’s ‘Well Heeled Bitches’. Reading the title alone, one would anticipate something a bit sexier than a dowdy looking Labrador made of shoes and boots, but that’s what you get. It’s probably just meant to be funny, but if you wanted to go down the line of interpretation then the object does challenge gender stereotypes. I’m not proud that when I saw the title written down I had expected to be presented with a picture of some women.

The concept of ‘Art of Humour’ is an interesting one. In order to fully explore the set question of the show, Davidson also enlists the help of Paul Barnes, Eduard Bersudsky, Helen Denerley, Steve Dilworth, Michael Forbes, Henry Fraser, Illona Morrice, Robert Powell, Ronald Rae and George Wyllie in addition to the two artists mentioned above. The show runs at The Kilmorack Gallery, from the 19^th April until the 1^st June, situated just outside Beauly near Inverness. You can read more about the gallery here – http://www.kilmorackgallery.co.uk/.

Chris Wells, detail: ‘Starry, Starry Night’, 2013. Ink on paper. ©Chris Wells

‘ACIDIC, I LIKE THAT’

A plague of drawings rendered in uncompromising black ink gather on Chris Wells’ densely colonised triptych, Unanswered Prayers – a piece included within the Smart Gallery’s current exhibition; Process. Depicted somewhere within this warren of pop culture, high art, satire and junk lies the quote ‘Acidic, I like that’ written on a note of paper shown as being cast aside by the artist himself. I found the presence of this and the fact that the note on which it is written upon is un-crumpled extremely satisfying, for acidic is the adjective which I used to describe Wells’ art when I first had the pleasure of viewing it at the RSA Young Contemporaries last Summer. I am happy to report that Wells remains caustic. Van Gogh depicted dying for his art on a crucifix, taking centre stage in both this work and Starry, Starry Night in the back room, is hardly light viewing. Is it?  Some viewers may wonder if Wells is likening himself to the iconic post-Impressionist madman; the man who only sold one painting is his life, but dedicated its entirety to the pursuit of truth in nature. I am not so convinced that this is what is being done, but rather I think Wells is attempting to convey how the role of those who have been hailed as masters in the canon of Western art is vastly different to the role of those who are branded artists within contemporary society. A similar message is implied by the recurring presence of Bruegel’s Tower of Babel. Wells depicts himself frantically piecing the symbolic tower together – only to discover that it is impossible to complete it because he refuses to adopt the language which artists communicate in today. Like the builders in the Bible, it is not for a lack of trying. The ability to complete it is just not in his nature. This sentiment summarises the works as a whole – they are a struggle. The instantaneous result of applying ink to paper helps to convey this. I am, therefore, excited to see what the results of Wells’ forthcoming paintings will be.  Will the element of struggle be discernible given paint cannot be worked so rapidly? I wonder what will happen next.

Smart’s exhibition also includes the work of two other young Grey’s graduates: Matthew Higgins and Lindsay Clark. The three contributors all shared a studio together at art school when studying painting. It is, therefore, interesting to observe the different paths which each has taken after them all having received the same foundation.

Matthew Higgins, ‘Amphitheatre’, 2013. Mixed media. ©the artist

Higgins’ sculptural paintings are wonderfully obscure things.  Walking towards them is similar to what I envision skydiving, in slow motion, towards land would be like.  From a distance, Amphitheatre looks like a patchwork of colour and texture. In close proximity, it looks like the view from an aeroplane window. Circuits, buttons, keys and other random objects pepper the terrain of Higgins’ mythical landscape and appear to represent hallmarks of civilised society. With such varied media, the works become the Earth, a city, the inside workings of a machine and a cell magnified under a microscope all at once. Not one thing is depicted in particular, but in doing this everything is actually depicted. Higgins, an avid traveller, appears, therefore, to be likening the evolution of modern human life to both mechanical and natural processes.

Lindsey Clark, detail, 2013. Oil on wood. ©the artist

Wells conveys the mental process which goes into making his art within it, whilst Higgins uses his mixed-media works to capture the process of something external taking shape. Clark appears to depict process within her work too. In paintings rendered in an ultramodern aesthetic, she deconstructs the organic forms of animals. Through applying futuristic shapes and neon colours to the contours of the animals’ bodies, she visually celebrates the energy which the creatures in question naturally exude. The process scrutinised here, therefore, is that which goes into animal movement and how the precision of that animal interacts within its environment. This intention of the work is evident in the photographs upon which she has marked her geometric skeletons included within the collage in the back room. This wall comprises various sketches, scraps and preliminary works which have played a part in the construction process of the final pieces on display upon the remainder of the walls. The concept of the term process and how it relates to the art exhibited is, therefore, explored to a prodigious depth.

‘Process’ ©Chris Wells

Process will run until 28 April. The Smart Gallery is open from 12-4 on both Saturday and Sunday. For more information and lots more photos click here.

Kenny Hunter, ‘All Cats are Grey at Night’. ©the artist

‘ALL CATS ARE GREY AT NIGHT’

This quote from Goethe’s ‘Faust’ states that when night falls, however important or unimportant we are perceived to be, we are all the same. At this time, whatever role or class we embrace on a daily basis takes recess. We become like everyone else: asleep. When naked or in our pyjamas and sub conscious we are equally vulnerable.

Kenny Hunter does something magical with the above quote. He brings it to life. Through splitting segments of words over his print, and through overlapping letters, he creates a sense of urgency. Have you ever seen a cat out on the streets during the early hours of the morning? It looks at you intently (for 2 and half seconds) and then it runs as fast as its little legs can carry it and as far away as it can get from you – well into the shadows; out of sight. You almost only see half of the cat at one time. It’s that fast. The movement of these nocturnal street cats is absolutely akin to the movement of the words in Hunter’s print. You cannot perceive everything at once as you are only given dynamic segments. It’s like there are parts of a whole scattered over a single moment in time and it keeps going, flitting in and out of your field of vision. It’s there, but not entirely – exactly how we are when we sleep.

Fred Bushe, ‘Fountain New York, III’, 1979. Screenprint. ©the artist

Movement is a recurring theme throughout this current exhibition at the RSA, which shows a range of prints made by artists who predominately work in sculpture. This is surprising, because sculpture and prints, as art forms, are often considered static. Both mediums relish in capturing a moment frozen in time. Phrases like, ‘stood as still as a statue’ or ‘there it is in black in white’ convey that both espouse a quality of permanency. When it comes to movement, therefore, both mediums have to have been handled with exceptional care and intelligence in order to convey it. Fred Bushe’s series of ‘New York Fountain I-IV’ impressively succeeds in demonstrating how water glides over a concrete surface when out in the open air. It doesn’t just flow directly down the fountain from the source, it gets buffeted around in the wind, catching the sunlight at different angles, shimmering and vibrating. Bushe achieved this result through cautiously printing multiple layers on top of the monolithic structure at the base of the image. The abstract quality of the water dancing over the fixed form draws the viewer’s eye in. These prints have a little of that same mesmerising quality that makes people stand in front of Rothko’s paintings for long periods of time. They are hypnotic, but they are hypnotic in a good way. It’s great to see these works out from storage and on display. They should be out all of the time.

Eduardo Paolozzi, ‘Poster for SSA Exhibition’, 1969. ©SSA

Eduardo Paolozzi’s impressive ‘SSA Exhibition Poster’ from 1969 is equally as alive, but the dynamism expressed here is achieved through a thoroughly different process. Instead of varying the intensities of the ink to create a shimmering effect, Paolozzi relies on presentation and tone to convey a repetitive robotic motion. Two sides of a ruthless machine are depicted mid-motion, creating an element of suspense. After carefully observing how light would catch something in the midst of movement, Paolozzi applies these observations to his large synthetic beast so it seems like its two muscular arms are about to collide and make a satisfying ‘clunk’ sound. The focus on that large bolt in the centre, generated by the diagonals in the exterior design of the base of this monstrosity, conveys that this motion is to keep happening repeatedly. It’s a machine for a machine’s sake. It’s a visual outpouring of joy for the machine aesthetic. It’s impressive.

The movement found in the prints discussed here reveals much about how these sculptors think and work. They appear at home with printmaking perhaps because of certain similarities shared by the two processes. When preparing a print, essentially one is carving out an image from matter – like sculpting. Furthermore, most of the artists here have chosen to layer different impressions upon one another in order to create an accomplished and varied finished work. Therefore, it’s like they cannot help but think of shaping and crafting in three dimensions. Sculpting and printmaking are dissimilar to painting and drawing. These latter two methods require the artist to add to something in order to create; subtraction is fundamentally not paramount to each process.

Sculptors’ Prints is on display at the RSA, the Mound, Edinburgh from now until the 31^st of March 2013. Mon – Sat: 10am – 5pm and Sun:12pm – 5pm. Entry is free. For more details, see www.royalscottishacademy.org/pages/exhibition_frame.asp?id=358