The journey to work on the tube is an inevitable, if unpleasant part of daily London life. At best you'll be crammed into a stuffy compartment reminiscent of a veal crate. At worst you’ll be shot 12 times in the head. Either way it's a disagreeable experience and it's no wonder that we, as commuters, desensitise ourselves to the tube, choosing to stare blankly forward like a lobotomised mental patient waiting for the misery to end. In this thought-provoking, multimedia installation, Ella Medley-Whitfield challenges us to look at the underground anew. We are reminded of the conformity required for the underground to function and made aware of the potential beauty that can be found in the everyday.
The first half of the exhibition 'Sound-Conditioning' features artist and voiceover queen of the underground Emma Clarke. Clarke shot to notoriety back in 2007 when her spoof announcements and criticism of the Northern line cost her her TFL contract. In the piece, rather than her usual proclamations of "stand clear of the closing doors please", Clark recites nursery rhymes collected by Medley-Whitfield from London primary schools. Her automaton delivery of such childhood nonsense is eerily reminiscent of malfunctioning supercomputer Hal's rendition of 'Daisy, Daisy Give Me Your Answer Do' in 2001: A Space Odyssey. The recitation of underground announcements by the primary school children is equally unsettling. Admittedly it does not require much imagination to envisage TFL being ran by a bunch of giggling five year olds. However, hearing them recite lines such as ‘please wait while we try to connect you’ just makes your heart sink. You know the brats are never going to get around to it. By changing the voice that delivers the message we are made aware of commands, previously made invisible through their ubiquity, which we both obey and ignore in equal measure.
In the second half of the exhibition, 'Line Drawings', Medley-Whitfield has created a selection of images by cutting out sections of fabric from the seats of underground's 12 lines – a shocking act of vandalism for which TFL have no doubt put a considerable bounty on her head. The 12 pieces of fabric, labeled and displayed like curios in a Victorian museum, are then blown up under a microscope and photographed, making us focus more closely on the mundane and the grimy.
What strikes you is the beauty of these microscopic images of dirty seat fabric and their resemblance to great works of art. The Bakerloo line has the space age geometry of a Kandinsky, while the subtle change of light of the Waterloo and City line resemblances a rendition of dawn by Turner. The personalities of the lines also shine through, such as the grime covered doom of the Northern line, or the Central Line; red-faced and furious like an angry foetus. These images are both beautiful and accessible: you'll find yourself running over to your favourite line and cooing over it like a proud parent.
Upon leaving the gallery and getting on the tube at Edgware road the underground voiceover is transformed. It has ceased to be background noise and become a voice that can no longer be trusted. Any moment it might utter the words "hey girls wanna have some fun, here he comes with his pants undone." It's an indicator of the success of this exhibition that it makes you look and hear the world in a different way, at least until the repetition and drudgery of the commute dull the senses once again.
Click here to view current shows at the Subway Gallery.
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