“Yesterday’s News”, Clinton Kirkpatrick: Safehouse Gallery, 25 Donegall Street, Belfast 
Clinton in front of his paintings, Colour Field(s) 1-8.
I went to Clinton’s Reception Evening at the Safehouse Gallery on Friday, 19th June. I had seen a few of his paintings before at his studio space in Studio 23, Dunmurry, but this was the first time that I had seen his work properly presented and “en masse”. It makes a major difference to see work in the right setting. I particularly liked the display of eight of Clinton’s painting that I photographed with him in front. Each of the Colour Field paintings is for sale individually (and good in its own right), but they would be stunning if they were kept together and displayed in the same way in a modern, possibly minimalistic, room.
The exhibition organiser, Danny Burke, giving a brief talk introducing Clinton’s work. He is standing in front of two of Clinton’s paintings, “What Lies Beneath” (top) and “Slightly Ajar”, (bottom).
"Circus Act II", by James Millar. 24 x 36 inches, linocut.
aintings on paper (plus one smaller one) should have set the opening mood for the exhibition but, unfortunately, these could only be displayed on the walls of the restaurant at the back of the foyer, so they were easily missed on the initial entry in
to the building (I only discovered them on the way out).
rected up the stairs to the second floor. There I was greeted by a young lady who marked me as attending the exhibition by tying a strip of red cloth around my arm and I received a red stamp on the back of my hand, all very suitable for an exhibition entitled, “Passion, Love and Revolution”! I was then shown through a black curtain into a large darkened room, where a short, grainy black and white film was endlessly repeating. Shortly after this, the show was duly opened by the curator of the show, Liam Brendan de Frinse with a few, well-chosen words and his re
ading of a short poem written by another member of Kult Pulp Productions, the group behind the show.
dor outside the gallery were another couple of quirky touches. To the left, a small bag invited one to take a small piece of folded paper from it and to follo
w the instructions contained within. To the right, another bag, containing a small nest with some strange looking eggs, hung from a red ribbon.
After Ché Guevara’s violent death in Bolivia, in 1967, he became something of a cult figure for students in particular (who were suitably distanced from the reality of violence and death in South America). The reference to “dissidents” gives the painting – possibly – a reference to modern day politics in N. Ireland. The word “questionmark” written out in full, rather than as a conventional question mark symbol, adds another little element, indicating – perhaps – that the statement has to be read visually, rather than literally. The use of stencil for the lettering, plus the deliberate distressing of the writing and of the surface – which makes it look ancient – gives another little twist, distancing the statement in time, even when other aspects touch it with a sense of the immediate. The little red star, like a signature, is the only element of bright colour, dragging the view down to the bottom right. Finally, a shiny black border, like the black border around an old-fashion funeral notice. What does it all mean? I suspect that you are being invited to weigh the elements for yourself, before you decide if it really means anything or if it is simply meant to puzzle you and to make you think! In any case, I found it an interesting piece.
On Thursday evening of the 26th March I went to the opening of a group art exhibition at the Canvas Gallery, in Belfast, as I know one of the participating artists, Andrew Cranley (he has an art studio on the same premises as I do, at Studio 23). The gallery was crowded and there was an excellent atmosphere. The five participating artists were very different in their style of work, which helped to make it an exciting exhibition, but – for me – the most interesting work was that by Andrew.
Andrew, in front of one of his paintings.
"Sunset, Rath near Comber", February 29.
Oils on canvas, 30cm x 25cm.
The first of the series has been completed. I have about six others already started and I am making good progress on them. Working in a proper studio makes a massive difference to me, so more in the series should be finished soon.
Being in the new studio is proving to be a considerable stimulus for my work. I still have a number of older paintings that I have to finish, but I have decided to primarily concentrate on a new series, all sunset and twilight scenes. My most recent paintings have nearly all been in a style I term "Experiential Realism", because I felt that my first priority had to be to "ground" myself and my art by working primarily from observation for a while. However, my original way of working had drawn on my imagination and unconscious mind for source material. This is still very important to me. If you like, they can be seen as two sides of the same coin. my internal world and my external one, both equally vital to my art. Twilight has always been considered a very unsettling period, neither day nor night, when anything could happen. It seems to me to perfectly symbolise my own need to balance and intertwine my external and internal realities. My intention is to put together a major exhibition of the series when it is completed (venue, as yet, unknown). I'll use this blog as a means of reporting on progress.
First day with bare walls and floor!
No ceiling yet, but getting there!
Of these, it is the first two that make a direct connection with traditional Realism. However, I think that it is the stress of the next two which marks the difference between Realism and Experiential Realism. In some ways it, nudges Realism (just a little) towards Expressionism.
The earlier forms of Realism, Social Realism, etc, made a form of political (with small “p”) statement. For example, one major point behind the original Realist Art Movement was to say that great art was not necessarily about “major” people or events. It claimed that a great painting did not have to depict a king or noble lord or even people of wealth and influence (for example, Courbet’s, “Burial at Ornans”. In other words, Realism was a reaction against the prevailing art of the time. From this, I reason that, if Experiential Realism is to have any real importance, it must also be seen in the context of being a reaction to the prevailing art of our time.
There is presently a dichotomy in the important means of visual communication. The most pervasive form of visual communication is through photography in all its forms. But, because the images are almost infinitely reproducible (especially now that most photography is digital), whilst the image may be highly esteemed, the means of reproduction has almost none. Films can win Academy Awards and can make the owners of the reproduction rights rich, but the individual video or DVD copy of the film has negligible value. It is only the experience of watching the film that is considered to be important. The DVD or video artefact is merely a convenient form of enabling this experience. On the other side of the split is the fine art object, a painting or sculpture. The experience of viewing the object may be highly valued, but the experience can normally only be gained by visiting the one example of the work and, because of this, the object itself may become worth a great deal of money. Hence a Vincent Van Gogh painting of sunflowers becomes worth millions of pounds in the present day art market.
In 1812 Jacques-Louis David painted the Emperor Napoleon, one of the top celebrities of his day, in his study. If it ever came on the market, the painting would now be worth a great deal of money. Present day celebrities, are recorded in film, usually shown on TV, and in photographs, usually published in magazines. A photograph cut from a magazine is worth very little. If a celebrity hired an artist to paint their portrait, the portrait would be worth rather more but would probably only be seen by a very few people. The fine art object which becomes worth a great deal of money does not normally now rely on portraying a celebrity, rather it relies on providing a unique primary experience which can be gained only by visiting the object (and/or a vicarious second-hand experience which can be got from the popular media, usually discussing how ridiculous it is that the object is valued/cost such a great deal of money, e.g., the crack in the floor of the Tate Modern or Damian Hurst's diamond-coated skull).
I would see Experiential Realism as closing this gap. It does not mean that other forms of art are “wrong” or worthless, but it is art about normal, average places and people. And it is for normal, average people. To appreciate it, a specialized art education is not required, just some visual sensitivity and awareness. It cannot be produced cheaply, because it is time and skill intensive, but neither is it unaffordable. Hopefully, it will also be of such a quality that the viewer will return to it again and again and still discover new aspects of the work – for that is what differentiates it from a mass produced image where only the straight-forward perception of the image is important.
Experiential Realism is also a “Modern” art – and will continue to be so. The Modernism comes from the fact that the artist will always be an artist of their own time, painting the things of their own time. In its own way, each painting is an historical document, because, working within the strengths and weaknesses of the medium, it records the truth of a place and situation.
