It’s the middle of winter and over the last week the sky has been littered with clouds that span from a dull white to a deep murky purple. The frequency with which I can see my breath in the middle of the day and the odd hail shower illustrates how cold it is. What a surprise it was then to walk into the office of 30upstairs and feel the sky open up and the temperature increase several degrees until it left a pink glow on my face. A change in the air?
Truthfully I was rather close to an incandescent trio by Jade Townsend from her series, ‘She wanted to be quoted anonymously as she didn’t want all of Beijing to know she waxes her upper lip’, which with their exquisite details and glittering additions make claim to be both opulent and exploitable. The pink woven cords connect them to the multi-plug, which is also shared with the printer, and combined with the heater running on the other side of the room there is a humming that alludes to industry and consumption.
Stepping back for a breath my eye travels up to a sun centred in a rectangular blue sky. Sun by Marco Fusinato reveals what the clouds outside are obscuring. How many times as a child was I told to never look at the sun? It’s a beautiful work, detailed with thin white lines and faint bands pulsing out from the centre. I feel in some why challenged as to why it’s not a square, or why it wasn’t hung as a portrait, and decide that it’s the immensity of the sky surrounding the sun that seems to want to be unlimited by the white border and wooden frame that so abruptly cuts it off. It wants to be bigger, and as such it seems to keep shifting in scale and shape in my mind.
Running left along the wall, encouraged by the direction of the magazines on the bookshelf, I arrive at two works by Gina Jones, Untitled (Dots and two lines red), and Untitled (Dots and two lines orange), which instantly remind me of driving through road works at dusk. They contain circles and slants, a rotation in composition, and a colour switch of red on orange then orange on red. They sit above John Campbell’s light work Shit Yeah, which at couch level throws red and blue light up onto the underside of the bookshelf. I can’t help but flick up and down between the works, noticing the light from the window playing with the small circles in Jones’ work. This whole wall has hooked me in, and as I circle back to Jade’s trio of works I finally notice Unified Field Theory. White in frame with shadows suggestive of a corner or something folded, Karyn Taylor has made a work that almost disappears into wall, but reveals itself as one becomes accustomed to the placement of objects and their shadows.
Who would of thought I could be warmed up by the right hand wall of an office.