Londonography and thoughts on figurative drawing
Cultural orienteering – The White Cube, Drawing Room
When entering the white cube through what appears to be the gates of heaven (or hell?), it seems almost like a parody of a gallery space. The two receptionists hidden behind the satirically massive white desk, concealing everything except the top of their heads, made me think of molehills behind picket fences. I couldn’t quite figure out if the stringent minimalism created a neutral space for Tracy Emin’s nudes to flourish, or if its insisting sterility overpowered the delicate lines. The clientele becomes quite clear when looking around at the gallery: designer glasses, Burberry bags and coats, politically correct strollers containing tiny politically correct looking babies. This definitely wasn’t the Tate. The I enjoyed the Emin exhibition more on the second visit, especially the smaller, quite vigorous, colorful sex paintings. They had an intensity and a truth to them, that I was missing from the sculptures.
Since i moved to London almost one and a half year ago, the Drawing Room has been like a secret refuge for me. I was introduced by one of my tutors from Camberwell, and ever since I’ve used the somewhat hidden gallery in Bermondsey as a massive resource for knowledge, inspiration and interaction with the staff and artists working there. The featured library is a treasure of rare publications, you’ll find everything from hungarian performance poetry, to tiny norwegian comics only printed in 10 editions. The library is open to the public, but rarely overcrowded, which suits my working habits quite well.
The current exhibition “The Nakeds” featured a range of various artists such as Fiona Banner, Andy Warhol, Egon Shiele and ….. and was a cleverly put together exhibition, meditating over the question of what is the body, how can it be depicted, how can the medium of drawing explore the body.
I am goin to apply for an internship at the Drawing Room in january.
The figurative drawing to me, has usually been a way for me to record my surroundings. I am not as interested in the narrative as i once was. I don’t wanna make cartoons anymore. Lately i’ve been interested in smaller sequences, stills. I guess the actual movies doesn’t appeal to me in the same way as the memory of the movie, the ambience and feeling of a movie. I guess this, in a way explains why most of my music collection consists of soundtracks. I’ll watch a film that shakes/breaks me and then I’ll linger on to that memory, by incorporating the soundtrack into my own life. I’m , crossing that line, between fiction and reality.