By Teddy Jamieson
There's a metal chain at the bottom.
On top of it, piled all the way to the ceiling, there are (deep
breath) old shoes, old dolls, an axe, an atlas (its pages torn), half of
a mannequin, computer motherboards, a monkey with its face broken off, a
brass bedstead, wooden bedlegs, broken-up wooden chairs, padded
envelopes, a Spiderman face mask, knackered keyboards, computer
keyboards (also knackered), driftwood, bike wheels, a drill, a
mirrorball and much, much more. All of it crammed in, raised up and up
and up, a mini mountain of stuff that's been discarded and discovered
from previous Edinburgh College of Art degree shows. It's called Enough.
More than, I'd say.
Hans K Clausen's impressive attempt to, as he puts it "make sense of our material world and how the stuff around us defines us" speaks to one of the recurring themes at this year's ECA degree show. In more than one room you can find art that deals with reclaiming the past, whether it be Nicola Brennan's The Hierarchy, which is made up of reconditioned church pews (and an additional, rather phallic, candle), Gregor Morrison's found wooden door with a legend carved into it ("The object is born it lay patiently heavy ..."), or Lauren Chipeur who, throughout the show, will be making yarn balls out of the Financial Times because, as she told me, "The Financial Times is not useful to me". And because she likes the colour.
The other prevailing moods are nostalgia (there's a 1970s bingo hall recreated in the sculpture department) and anxiety. That may be personal anxiety relating to students going out into a world that seems far from welcoming – and so William Darrel has built himself a space pod to retreat to after graduation – or more a generalised anxiety about the state of the world, as represented by Greek student Despina Nissiriou's work which speaks to her country's turmoils. I'm surprised there's not more politics, although there is Celyn Bricker's hand-drawn sunflowers which are also part of a larger digital artwork. Bricker sent hundreds of his drawings to Chinese officials along with a website. If any of them log on a block of a digital picture is filled in online. A comment – and gentle attack – on China's repressive tendencies.
That is one of the pleasures of a degree show. The sense of young artists stretching themselves, finding a voice, finding out what they can do. The other is the range of styles on show. In painting alone you can find the bold, colourful, quasi-abstract acrylics of Bernadett Khandakar (paintings that are visual representations of words) and William Henry Wyndham's portraits of the likes of Kissinger and others – is that Klaus Kinski in character from Herzog's Stroszek? – that throw up echoes of the Glasgow Boys.
What's encouraging is how much humour there is, from Robert E Goat's playful video art (look out for the four people who are in fact the same person – Mr Goat? – singing along to Mr Sandman) to Darren Duddy's visions of brutalist architecture graced with titles like "Nae Mair Hooses Ower Piece Flinging Height". Add to that Benjamin Hoare's giant post-it notes, Andrea Beveridge's dog head candles and Anielka Hampson's lascivious pop art (including a phallic banana this time) and it's clear that not everyone graduating from Edinburgh is necessarily anxious.
Still, if I had the chance to take just one budding artist's work home I might plump for Justine King's beautifully involved, even eye-straining, landscape drawings. Or are they patterns? Either way they are works of detailed delicacy that made me think of Edo period Japanese art and the work of Scottish artist Louise Hopkins and then made me want to spend hours and hours tracing the many, many lines they're made up of.
Edinburgh College of Art degree show opens tomorrow and runs until June 11.
Hans K Clausen's impressive attempt to, as he puts it "make sense of our material world and how the stuff around us defines us" speaks to one of the recurring themes at this year's ECA degree show. In more than one room you can find art that deals with reclaiming the past, whether it be Nicola Brennan's The Hierarchy, which is made up of reconditioned church pews (and an additional, rather phallic, candle), Gregor Morrison's found wooden door with a legend carved into it ("The object is born it lay patiently heavy ..."), or Lauren Chipeur who, throughout the show, will be making yarn balls out of the Financial Times because, as she told me, "The Financial Times is not useful to me". And because she likes the colour.
The other prevailing moods are nostalgia (there's a 1970s bingo hall recreated in the sculpture department) and anxiety. That may be personal anxiety relating to students going out into a world that seems far from welcoming – and so William Darrel has built himself a space pod to retreat to after graduation – or more a generalised anxiety about the state of the world, as represented by Greek student Despina Nissiriou's work which speaks to her country's turmoils. I'm surprised there's not more politics, although there is Celyn Bricker's hand-drawn sunflowers which are also part of a larger digital artwork. Bricker sent hundreds of his drawings to Chinese officials along with a website. If any of them log on a block of a digital picture is filled in online. A comment – and gentle attack – on China's repressive tendencies.
That is one of the pleasures of a degree show. The sense of young artists stretching themselves, finding a voice, finding out what they can do. The other is the range of styles on show. In painting alone you can find the bold, colourful, quasi-abstract acrylics of Bernadett Khandakar (paintings that are visual representations of words) and William Henry Wyndham's portraits of the likes of Kissinger and others – is that Klaus Kinski in character from Herzog's Stroszek? – that throw up echoes of the Glasgow Boys.
What's encouraging is how much humour there is, from Robert E Goat's playful video art (look out for the four people who are in fact the same person – Mr Goat? – singing along to Mr Sandman) to Darren Duddy's visions of brutalist architecture graced with titles like "Nae Mair Hooses Ower Piece Flinging Height". Add to that Benjamin Hoare's giant post-it notes, Andrea Beveridge's dog head candles and Anielka Hampson's lascivious pop art (including a phallic banana this time) and it's clear that not everyone graduating from Edinburgh is necessarily anxious.
Still, if I had the chance to take just one budding artist's work home I might plump for Justine King's beautifully involved, even eye-straining, landscape drawings. Or are they patterns? Either way they are works of detailed delicacy that made me think of Edo period Japanese art and the work of Scottish artist Louise Hopkins and then made me want to spend hours and hours tracing the many, many lines they're made up of.
Edinburgh College of Art degree show opens tomorrow and runs until June 11.
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