MARISSA BAGLEY - Groceries From The Netherworld
5 February - 28 February, 2015

In a new exhibition Marissa Bagley challenges herself through three vastly different techniques; needle point, aluminium sculpture and monoprinting, in order to explore the effects of time constraint on the creative process. The result is a veritable consortium of fishmen, mysterious cloaked figures, long tongued Chihuahuas and umbrellas atop mountains that could only have slipped from her mind without her notice.

A friend of the artist writes:

Marissa Bagley has put before you some ‘groceries from the netherworld’- ordinary items clutched from the half-focused shelves of the subconscious Coles and brought home. They are personal art-runes that have recurred themselves into the conscious mind. Like groceries they are essentials regularly procured and consumed to maintain self and explain that self to others, her mind’s diet. Marissa Bagley’s work does not easily lend itself to a ‘blurb’ and like all good art it should not require one. Her lexicon of unconsciously mined symbols either engage you or they do not. Those before it can either grasp an obvious attempt to communicate with them (albeit in a language not there own) and or act like some art-racist and not give her directions to the station instead screaming “go back to where you come from if you’re not willing to ‘paint fat’ or hang string in a relationally aesthetic way”. No amount of art-speak will change that initial reaction.

Her embroideries, mono-prints and constructions stand with Hume in that she believes the overarching purpose of art is Phatic exchange. She, like Guston, has eschewed the dead branch of abstraction and replumbed the figurative in an attempt to more accurately map self so those around can orientate themselves. This is why this blurb is unnecessary. Either you see corresponding landmarks on your own map and find her work useful or you don’t. And if you have read this far looking for some kind of 140-character glossary to her goal posts, long-tongued heads and wine bottles then you are part of the problem. You have been brainwashed out your enjoyment of art. Either the work itself does the job or it has failed. Reading shit like this only gives more power to the critics and curators that have fucked art out of its seat at the cultural table.

The fucking money-changers and dove-sellers are running the temple because of you and Bagley is here to toss tables and throw you Derrida quoting vegetables into the unsafe street.

If you need this crutch go stare gormlessly at some well arranged neon in a car park and discuss the ‘ikea-sublime’, we do not want you.

Go cross your white-wined arms in front of an interminable video work at one of the Cofa grant hatcheries, we do not need you.

Pop on your ‘Je suis Charlie’ shirt and go lay a wreath at the door of the MCA because cunts like you are killing the need for viewer-discernable meaning in art, we fucking despise you.

If, on the other hand, you’re just reading this to avoid talking to some fuckboy you wish you never got past nodding with then we’re cool.

As for you others, keep our names out of your mouth and stop bragging about a future that ain’t yours.

- Steven Charles William Latimer III

Please join us for opening night drinks on Thursday 5th February, 6pm.

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