How does one write about an artist such as Ian Davenport? After seeing a major new series of his work at Alan Cristea, this is the question I am struggling with. I can think of three approaches: the first would simply be descriptive; the second might explore the emotional responses his work induces; and the third could examine any theoretical or intellectual connotations. Eyes. Heart. Mind. Let's have a stab at all three, and hope that we still have some space to discuss the beautiful exhibition of Josef Albers portfolios taking place at the other Alan Cristea space a couple of doors down the road.
1. Eyes
On display are three groups of works. On the largest wall hang 30 small etched monoprints, each made from the same copper plate and each utilising only two colours. There are also three Etched Line prints that continue the aesthetic development Davenport has displayed in his recent work – namely the puddling of colour at the bottom of the image. In addition there are three unique versions of Etched Lines: Bright White, Davenport's largest editions yet. Parallel lines, fresh bold colouring: this is a crisp show, elegantly presented.
2. Heart
But what do these works make you feel? Well, a number of things. The succession of parallel lines is at once soothing and energetic. There's a buzz here, but it's a gentle and non-threatening one. Otherwise, emotional responses must surely depend on the colours used. The small monoprints have a cumulative force that is at once immersive and distant. One wonders, however, how each might fare alone. Judging from all the red stickers, the consensus is: just fine, thank you very much. 
Ian Davenport, 'Etched Lines: Bright White' 2008, etching on 350gsm Hahnemühle paper
But in all honesty I don't feel that Davenport is an emotional artist. He is about technique, aesthetics, and thought, which brings us nicely to:
3. Mind
Whereas somebody like Bridget Riley has always been about optical effect, Davenport displays an interest in the material qualities of paint that marks him apart. Texture is critical. I've always thought of his work (particularly the recent stuff) as in some ways the literal embodiment of the painting process. Paint comes in neat containers – red, blue, yellow etc – only to be manipulated by the artist. Disparate elements combine together. The linearity of these images therefore mirrors the direction of the painting process, but, in a neat inversion, here the finished product (the base puddles) is the more random, contingent as it is upon the uncontrolled flow of the paint.
What gives this exhibition its ironic edge is that this exploration of paint is an illusion. These are prints, not paintings. Davenport uses one technique to explore another: the results are thus one step removed. Distant, but the more playful for it.
I think I may have lost control of all these words. The separate lines of this argument have blurred together. Perhaps they never were separate. They are certainly not parallel, but run into each other, overlap, and form puddles at the bottom of this conclusion.
And now we've run out of space for Albers.
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