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THE WORK
TIM HILL
Tim is overbearingly graceful in the manner of a young Bernard Bresslaw, his images, defunct, rigid, gaily dystrophic, yet with a contentious perspicacity few would admire were it not for its sheer glamour. He walks your path. His own is soiled by Earth’s molten slag.
THE BOLG
“Give me the Bolg and I will give you your heaven.” Performing throughout the evening, this Bolg gives more than prior incarnations, never static, he dazzles through redundant fecundity, a master of the desire machine. “The Boy Wonder is ready for you, face the music dear woman/man.”
ANDREW ROBERT DOIG
Not an artist per se, A.R. Doig resides, parasitic within the womb of these walls, desperate, glorious, futile, beautiful. For tonight our specimen models the golden chicken bone necklace as designed by the fashion supergod Christopher Kane. Herein lies the shock, and the value?
PHILLIP EDWARD JOHNSON
“I’m freaking out!!” What did you say? You herd me – into the Golden Dawn. Phillip Edward, the artist, brings you to your knees, agnosticisms last great martyr. Swim ashore, be embraced by 12-year old fantasy, be disillusioned, begin the beguine, BE GONE!!!
