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Eija-Liisa Ahtila, Beaconsfield Artworks, Anna Best, Susan Collis, Keith Coventry, Mikey Cuddihy, Shane Cullen, Robert Ellis, Bruce Gilbert, Carl Michael von Hausswolff and Thomas Nordanstad, John Isaacs, Hayley Newman, (nobleandsilver), Bob and Roberta Smith, Kerry Stewart, Tomoko Takahashi. The title Chronic Epoch smacks of drama; having survived ‘all the capital casualties of the Lottery’ Beaconsfield celebrates its first decade by inviting a selection of the artists they worked with during those formative years to return. A lengthy interpretive guide tells me that Chronic Epoch is ‘animated by a programme of performance, talks and screenings’ – does the exhibition need these animators in order to function? Entering the upper space, I can’t avoid feeling as though I’ve stumbled onto a stage set, emphasised by the raked floor. Suspended from the ceiling Kerry Stewart’s Mull of Kintyre and Blackbird, huge hybrid bird/blackbird costume/sculptures dominate the space; they make me uneasy – there’s something melancholy yet menacing going on and I half expect them to begin frantically flapping their wings whilst my back is turned. Halfway between Stewart’s birds, John Isaacs’ grisly Today I started loving you again – a waxy severed leg in a cowboy boot, complete with human hair, sits nonchalantly in the middle of the steps bisecting the room, making me wonder whether the birds had anything to do with it. There’s definitely something ‘prop-like’ about many of the works in this space; a hint of slapstick, accompanied by the inevitable pathos. Performance is in this space’s mortar - Charlie Chaplin allegedly attended the ragged school that formerly occupied the gallery. In (nobleandsilver)’s Living History a single line LED sign strictly instructs me to ‘queue here’, between snaking barriers leading to a tiny corridor-like space filled with post-performance detritus. Pinned to the wall is a sign announcing Kim Noble has had a family bereavement so won’t be performing today. Rounding the corner I’m faced with a monitor on the floor, turned away from the main exhibition space to disguise its contents: A film of a very frail, elderly lady in bed, moving intermittently. For a split second I’m overcome with sensations of grief which are quickly replaced by humiliation: it’s all part and parcel of (nobleandsilver)’s self-proclaimed “Award winning, critically acclaimed multi-media double act”. Continuing the “double act”, Bob and Roberta Smith dominate the lower space; the entire area is wallpapered with posters inscribed in their signature script suggesting obscure hiding places: ‘under the catfood’. Wipe-clean chequered tablecloths make it feel like a tearoom in a church crypt, but then there’s all the concrete - in bowls, saucepans, cups, ice cream cornets… a sort of fossilised Paul McCarthy performance. In the arch space, Hayley Newman
has created Woodshed, a chunky, raw wooden two storey proscenium arch
squeezed into and obstructing the entrance, forcing me to navigate it.
From the top there’s a rewarding view of Eija-Liisa Ahtila’s
melancholic and slightly surreal Ground Control, a loop edited from an
earlier film so that a girl repeatedly lies down in a filthy puddle of
rainwater. So much of this work hums with theatricality; I know I’m
missing parts of the action but I’m having such a good time backstage
that it doesn’t matter. This is a theme park of a show, featuring
all of the best bits: the thrills, the chills and even refreshments, but
unlike a theme park I didn’t leave feeling slightly ripped off.
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