Michael Patterson-Carver / In Dreams at Timothy Taylor Gallery

Michael Patterson-Carver / In Dreams at Timothy Taylor Gallery

09 September, 2010
by: Lauren Romano

George W Bush, tax lawyers, and an art exhibition: the weird world of Lauren Romano.

“Rejected my place,” the Facebook status read. “My being a lawyer is like George Bush reciting the alphabet… and getting it right.” That was all I needed to know. That told me, with a sigh of relief, that a friend of mine had rejected her place to study tax law and turned her back on the City career paths of a number of university acquaintances who have stumbled into the roles of trainee business executives, market analysts and other vaguely made-up sounding jobs. Said friend has booked a one-way ticket to Madrid instead.
 
Anyway, all you need to know is that that little amusing line was in my head as I made my way to Timothy Taylor Gallery to see group show In Dreams and a collection of recent works on paper by American artist Michael Patterson-Carver. As I gleefully prepare myself for a jolly good Bush-bashing courtesy of Patterson-Carver’s highly politicised art, I’m anticipating fresh, frank and funny. Yet the ink and watercolour works I actually encounter depict rehashed, somewhat regurgitated, age-old news.
 
First there’s 'Banking Non-Scandal' where the sign ‘multinational banks’ sits above a launderette. The dubious looking establishment appears to be embroiled in money laundering and numerous sacks stuffed with dollar bills sit ready for a spin in the drum. The scene portrayed in 'Supply and Demand' depicts a classroom where a teacher is in the process of explaining graphs which illustrate the beneficial rise in oil prices as a result of the US invasion of Iraq. Nothing new there then. Everything seems dated and overworked – and as I grapple to decipher the multitude of references I begin to lose interest. In fact my favourite piece, 'Priority', is the simplest of the lot. It shows President Obama sitting at his desk, with a list of priorities in his hand. The space next to numbers 2. and 3. is left blank; point number 1. reads simply, ‘survive the presidency’.
 
After all that politics I’m in need of a bit of light relief, and lucky, the other exhibition currently on display, In Dreams, is more my sort of thing. Crepuscular scenes, dream-like logic, impossible characters and de-contextualised narrative plunge the main, brightly-lit gallery space into a curious state of dreamy somnolence. Norbert Schwontkowski’s 'Bergmuezzin', depicting a skeletal form perched upon a rock, immediately catches my eye. Anguish, torture, energy and submission are all bound up in this solitary faded figure who appears to be clinging on, lost, helpless and loosely formed in someone else’s subconscious.
 
Kiki Smith’s scrunched Nepal paper creations meanwhile, appear to float, frameless and imposing as they hang, nearly three metres tall in mid air. The crinkled, creased surface of the Nepal paper adds a satisfying tactile dimension while the faint, smudged, slightly unaligned edges of a window frame and a wooden chair, with its impossible sloping forwards seat, add to the conjured up, transitory feel of the piece.
 
Volker Hueller’s enchanting 'Waiting for the Moon' series end the proceedings for me with a sharp, nightmarish tinge. Dark and chaotic snatches are visible between the faint, spidery lines that loop across the page in disorientating fashion. There’s a dusty, unfocused quality to the images as the graphite grey lines mingle with touches of pastel pinks and blues, which in turn accentuate alarming features on evil faced Martini drinkers, morphed into hooked nosed, withered old women and menacing looking dwarves. In the last of the three pictures, man has become the moon, and the effect of a single, large eye staring out unblinking from a round grey face is deeply sinister.
 
Caught up in the surreal, impossible nature of things, as I eventually leave to face the torrential downpour outside, for some bizarre reason my mind wanders back to dear old George W. Except now he’s not reciting the alphabet but grappling with his seven times tables, and this time he’s not alone. He’s with Carol Vorderman and a baby-faced troop of multiplication rappers. As things become more and more ridiculous in my head and I no doubt look increasingly like a drowned rat, I let out a little chuckle or two. The man standing next to me in a pinstriped suit with an enormous umbrella flashes me a hideous look. He’s probably a tax lawyer. What does he know about times tables…
Michael Patterson-Carver and In Dreams are both at Timothy Taylor Gallery until 2nd October 2010.

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Image credits, left to right:
Tomasz Kowalski, ‘Untitled’, 2010. Watercolour on paper. 42.5 x 30 cm. Copyright: Tomasz Kowalski. Courtesy: carlier | gebauer, Berlin; Timothy Taylor Gallery, London

Tomasz Kowalski, ‘Untitled’, 2010. Watercolour on paper. 42.8 x 28.8 cm. Copyright, Tomasz Kowalski. Courtesy: carlier | gebauer, Berlin; Timothy Taylor Gallery, London.

Lauren Romano