Looking at a recent self-portrait by Michael Craig-Martin, the attraction of simple outlines saturated with a palette of ultra modern and mass-produced tones is instantly clear. Just three delicate lines indicate a furrowed brow. A very slight droop of the right cheek and a barely broken line euphemise the reality of the tiring jowl of a septuagenarian. Details are abandoned in favour a monumental architectonic, even mechanical structure, whether the subject is a pair of glasses, handcuffs or a face.
The modern aesthetic of paring things down to their essential is utilised to great effect in his work and sits extremely well under the current linguistic hegemony of advertising. There is no hierarchy of objects/subjects for Craig-Martin; everything is an object and every object a potential subject. The simplicity and recognisability of Craig-Martin's 'clip art meets fine art' style is the key to his work. In a recent interview with Art World Craig-Martin spoke of how his 'work has always been about trying to take something to it's logical extreme'. It is fitting, therefore, that Craig-Martin penetrates the hypothesis of the artist as brand by becoming the artist as logo. One piece in this current exhibition typifies this: three typically bright, brash and cheery capital letters, each overlaid upon the artist's iconographic everyday objects. The triptych reads 'M C M'.
In many ways and at this stage in his career, Craig-Martin is an old reliable - his work is classically monumental, playful and his proliferation of public art is an antidote to the insult that is 'plop art'. He has been beating and treading the same path for a long time. In the 1960s, Craig-Martin began collecting readymades from Woolworths, obsessed by the fact that no one else was. In the 1970s he began to actually draw these mundane and ubiquitous objects. The Alan Cristea show sees Craig-Martin working with prints for the first time. Unfortunately, it is not clear how this new medium has brought anything new or challenging to his work. But the prints themselves are effective.
There is a satisfying and non-gratuitous mixture of mediums in the exhibition with a wall mounted LCD monitor (Craig-Martin is more than capable of keeping up with the Joneses) and the various print editions; 'Seven deadly Sins', 'Alphabet' and 'Tokyo Sunsets'. The horizontal aspect of the latter play on the tradition of landscapes and the graduated visceral backgrounds are suitable neon sunsets for Craig-Martin's aesthetic lexicon. The LCD screen is the most capturing piece. A static construction of related imagery inflated with the physical depth that is traditionally absent from Craig-Martin works. It is perhaps here that we see Craig-Martin inching forward in his artistic trajectory.
Exhibitions in commercial galleries such as Alan Cristea, and particularly one with such a strong brand/logo as MCM, are hard to experience without feeling like you are in a shop. That's why I'd like to use this exhibition as a point of reference and turn your attention towards some worthy Craig-Martin works that everybody and nobody owns: 'Colour and wall drawing' (2002) (in collaboration with architects Herzog & de Meuron) at the Laban Dance Centre in Deptford; 'The Fan' (2003) in Regents Place, Euston Road, and for those of you who may be visiting the south of France this summer: 'Tramway de Nice' (2007), Installation in Nice, France.
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