David Shrigley was born in Macclesfield in 1968, and has lived in Glasgow for more than 20 years. His first major show in the UK, at the Hayward Gallery in London, runs until 13 May 2012 and showcases two decades of drawing, photography, sculpture and painting.
The exhibition includes 68 pieces specially created for the Hayward, 42 of which are typically raw, poster-size paintings.
The first piece in the room, a headless stuffed ostrich (entitled Ostrich) sets the tone for a macabre, wry, eclectic body of work that, if it’s your thing, makes Brain Activity a very funny place to spend some time.
Intuitive
‘If nobody had ever asked what the work’s about, I probably wouldn’t know.’
A strange admission from a gallery artist, and one that makes attempting an analysis of David Shrigley's work pretty pointless. He says he paints, takes photos, draws, sculpts and edits intuitively, and very little, if any, forethought is involved.
If you didn't know that, it would be easy to drag meaning out of the work. The untidy handwriting is completely appropriate - but it’s his handwriting, and therefore incidental. Several of the photographs (The Hill; A Photograph Taken Quickly; A Photograph of Some Bent Railings) are named for what they are, without any obvious pretence at something deeper, but they could easily be a mockery of the ‘serious art’ Shrigley says he rebelled against at Art School. We can all name an artist we think takes him/herself too seriously, who would view Shrigley’s ‘Five Years of Toenail Clippings’ and ‘Stick Figures Having Sex on a Car Hood’ as meaningful and humourless.
'Art'?
Shrigley doesn't believe he has a craft. He draws, he says, like a person would if s/he was trying to explain something - more communication than deliberate attempts to create art. A case in point is one drawing with the scribbled text ‘DRAW AN APPLE THEY SAID’. The line drawing underneath has no shading, no real shape and certainly no finesse, but it is, undoubtedly, an apple.
Shrigley has gained his reputation largely through unrefined, stripped-down renderings that expose the banalities and awkwardness of everyday life. As such, a lot of the work requires a sense of humour verging on the macabre; you shouldn't really laugh at a stuffed Jack Russell puppy holding a sign saying 'I'M DEAD', or a headstone carved with a shopping list that includes 'Aspirin'...
Glasgow
When asked whether Glasgow has had an influence on his sense of humour, Shrigley is non-commital.
'That's a hard question to answer. It's like asking someone to objectively take a look at their own personality.'
Whether he agrees or not, having lived there for eight years I recognise something quintessentially Glaswegian, aside from the obvious necessity of including his home city as a backdrop to his photography, in Shrigley's dour black humour.
Narrative
'I'm like Samuel Beckett - I put in less than people need to know.'
Shrigley is aware that his works tell stories, even if those stories become clear only after he's started a piece. This often means exhibits read like satire or have a genuine poignancy. An animated film, New Friends, is a comment on peer pressure that will ring true for many. One photograph shows a row of Glasgow tenements with a bit of scrubby grass in front, on which is a box marked 'LEISURE CENTRE'. Maybe I read way too much into this, but it struck me as a commentary on the lack of opportunities for people in Glasgow's more deprived areas. David Shrigley - the art world's most accidental social commentator?
Either you'll find this show funny or you won't. And, refreshingly, that's pretty much all there is to it.
Jennie Gillions - Jennie Gillions has a History and Archaeology degree. She is a published writer with particular interests in art, history and mental ...
