Kate Weir revels in the awkward, poignant worlds of Maya Hewitt.
I’ve always admired artists who can render the banal extraordinary. For people like myself, who lack the opposable thumbs to wield a paintbrush, I’ve always thought that anything I strived to put on canvas would have to be beyond spectacular to make it worth my while, like an otter and a dinosaur in a Mexican stand-off, being cheered on by anthropomorphic cupcakes. It mystifies me how Gerhard Richter knows which photograph to render in blurry hyper-realistic tones; how Klaus Oldenberg decided his plug would look better ten times the size and squishy; and what led Pierre Bonnard to follow his wife into the bathroom with a canvas. Well, maybe not that last one.
Maya Hewitt is one such artist, showing us the fragile and poignant beauty of even the dullest instances. In Nocturne, at Bischoff/Weiss this winter, wraith-like figures float through doctors' waiting rooms, charity shops and greasy spoons like characters in a Chekhov play, with little connection and a wealth of inner turmoil. Her work has the quirky veneer of fashion illustration, but a sombre palette and a depth of field that would make a cyclops weep at his ignorance.
The emotional axis of her work hinges on awkward glances and a sense of vulnerability; the slightest gestures of despair, such as two girls embracing in a waiting room; and fleeting moments of self-reflection. Like Edward Hopper, the details of her work require closer inspection: pictures of family members on a bedroom wall, record covers, vivid television and computer screens are all elements that make these scenarios all too real, and draw the viewer into an otherwise fluidly romanticised narrative.
This is especially important as the figures themselves are kind of ephemeral, half-finished: in one painting of a girl's bedroom, it takes a moment to notice a second ghostly figure prominently placed in the bed. Hewitt has worked extensively in Japan and the influence is apparent in the kokeshi dolls and kawaii-style hairclips scattered throughout her paintings. Her characters also bear a resemblance to Yoshitomo Nara’s cheeky imps.
Despite the fact that the exhibition only has four paintings, it strikes a chord. Hewitt has captured the moments of self-doubt which plague us all, with a subtle empathy and a keen eye. Having said that, it's a shame that more of her work isn’t on show, as Nocturne lacks the immersive experience of her previous installations, which covered the entire gallery. But nevertheless, when viewed through the inky washes and hidden symbols of Hewitt’s world, the uncertain moments of daily life are imbued with a stark beauty all of their own.
Maya Hewitt - Nocturne is at Bischoff/Weiss until 18th December 2010.
Click here to see all London exhibitions.
Click here for things to do in London.
Return to Spoonfed's London Art homepage.
Add an event
Frieze Art Fair to launch new section for young galleries in 2012
Frieze have today announced details for the 2012 edition, their tenth art fair in London. Taking place...