Opening: Friday 4th April 6-9pm
Saturday 5th April 1-5pm
Sunday 6th April 1-5pm
Substation - Studio 1, First floor, Substation Project Space, Bilton Square (off High St ), Margate CT9 1DX
Map of how to get there
Press release
Upstairs at the Substation, juxtaposed on a landscape of automatic lifts that carry you through purples and woodlands of heather, an art exhibition finally emerges that reaches deep into the truant’s worst moments and turns him into a proud thief.
What is the thing? A species that flicks feathers into waterfalls whilst watching the truth as told being a lie: a flagrant lie of disobedience to its medium.
Don’t listen to the trolls…listen to the art.
Looking at the art in groups of five thousand and three, wavering over the icy grit locket folders, muscling in on the grave distinct figures and trip-fever blue (blue is light that glows, blows the blue wind), you sense its character is so deep that, at that very moment, Allah (everything combined) reaches its loving arms to welcome you to art. You will find the phligma of beauty and the answer specified, and influences taken from Ghandi, Hitler, Jude Law, Simon and Garfunkel, Madam Twanky, and many other misrepresented philosophers who speak to you in a profound whisper. Just tell yourself one day, if you will, tell it good massive one to yourself.
Dinosaurs and Greek gods may well have existed. (Can we say in this context that the name God can be used?) Many practicing artists would and should disagree. After all, they are only basic, and they do have to cope with having a skunk-like demeanour that cannot compare to the achievements of men.
This art turns its nose up at men because of their arrogance and impertinence. I base this on the Greek god Adonis and the diplodocus and Pythagoras, and the desperate nature of too many men in current society.
My personal starting point is that art rhymes with art. You can say that two words that are exactly the same rhyme because they do.
“So elegant in trance vision that bold undertones of paint with a splish a splosha A sad a splish splish splosha. I said from a splish to the splish to the splish splish splosha.”
Is art a trade? Yes it is, for the purposes of this ellipse. Artists of calibre whistle and sing whilst they work, and so do tradesmen. I will say it again, “To the splish splish splosha!” Can one man’s achievements be enough? Can every man’s achievements be too much? Only a frog can save us with the nerve impulse of a massive vacuum cleaner tied to a fence.
Many famous artists would say,
“To be or not to be? That is the question.”
Ah my friend, the age-old psychosis of getting dragons mixed up with dinosaurs. It’s a semantic disability, to see the lamp turned on straight in front of your weary eyes. Shocker. And then to see that the shutter has been disabled too! Some artists would use as material Tutankahmun being carried off into the sunset on a double-decker bus, just for the sake of one sentence of stupid description. You can decide where scrutinising politics gets us, but I can tell you where: no diggity. Nowhere. It’s the same with scrutinition politics of art; it’s like trying to eat a prune before its ready.
Honesty is the best way of viewing art, not sanctimonious people talking about honesty.
That’s not the point, definitely don’t try and be honest when you are observing art. That’s not what it’s for. Looking at art honestly will get you most of the way - just be honest and you can’t go wrong. Lastly, on the subject of honesty: Not the way forwards. You would be better off trying to turn a computer into Alicia keys, so let’s just agree with the idea of honesty in art: Oh man, it’s cool.
Gregor Lypiatt
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