Mirror City advertised an exhibition that would represent artworks intertwining ‘fiction and reality’.
Upon entering, we walk into the installation of Lindsay Seers, whereby we are hit by information overload that was dampened further by it’s segregated locations of interactions, causing susceptibility, perhaps even inevitability to miss parts.
The installation was a shipwreck of silliness, literally. Seers installation was a sunken ship containing inside a cinema that presented floating abstract spherical images displaying geometric patterns. Accompanying this (outside the cinema) was a soundtrack that drowned the senses with sounds of tide and and audio of mythical greek storytelling of the sea witch ‘Ursula’.
Moving toward the centre of the exhibition, where artworks continued to be uncanny and misconceiving, were two artworks I appreciated. The first; Figurative portraits of people with an ethnic background of African and/or Caribbean descent by Lynette Yiadom Boakye. Boakye explains her paintings are not of actual people but instead are a combination of features that she has collected over the years, going on to express that her inspiration to paint them sprung from the fantasies, nonsense and random associations that meld with her life.
Three was the collection displayed and a beautiful collection it was. The expressions were human, puzzling, and a sense of innocence, but above all a rush of familiarity that is relatable to when admiring the portraits, making one feel good.
A second exhibition captured my interest, this was the work of Emma Mcnally whose exquisite drawings of activity covered vast expanses of space in such versatility. Her graphite drawings are titled ‘Choral Fields 1-6, 2014’. Mcnally invents new ways to utilize graphite paper and carbon, with the assistance of tools such as erasers, sandpaper and manual hand smearing. ‘Choral 1-6’ each display uniqueness of some existence, however their common bond is their identity as maps; maps of music, tides & waves, space, military camps land etc..
Achieved through empty spaces, hammered in dots that lead to tracks, ruled lines, smudges, scribbling and scratches. Mcnally’s work is of fascination leaving one feeling both bedazzled and bewildered by the overwhelming magnitude of information.
Before exiting the exhibition, another distasteful installation appeared from one of Londons ‘new art’ artist, riddled with poor storytelling of a self proclaimed hermaphrodite confessing her success in reproduction. Bizarre to comprehend, the installation was compiled of two videos unschrynoshised in storytelling and evoked yet again information overload.
Overall, the exhibition has been a strange experience, one that has not left me eager to return, but with a response of ‘Is this the best the capital can produce? ‘