This event has now finished. Until Sep 26 2009
Time Out says
David Harrison's paintings and sculptures style themselves as bulletins from some queasy dreamworld where elements of the natural and supernatural collide with aspects of high-end advertising. On the British artist's canvases, crazy-eyed hares howl at the moon, the pendulous sun is plastered with a Dior logo, and trees sprout handbags and high heels from their branches. Elsewhere, hoodies process towards Stonehenge, and a citified girl keeps a badger on a lead while butterflies flock round a giant perfume bottle.
Harrison presents contemporary consciousness as an irresolute stew, spiced with lots of involuntarily inherited stuff. His originality may lie in the fact that, whereas for years artists have been bemoaning our lapsed - if it ever existed - affinity for nature, he seems thoroughly acclimated to it, enjoying the intensities that arise from hybrids of the urbanite and the ancient. The outlook is at once fatalistic and weirdly jubilant. Destroyers that we are, we'll go, he implies; and a nature more resilient than us will remain. In some works, it has seemingly already happened. His cackling sculpted hares, with their tumescent penises and pearls and ballet dresses, are unabashedly horrid, belligerent grotesques.
His huge black architectural folly, seeping spooky cooing from inside and decorated with barbed wire, bloody feathers, mangled dolls, etc, is too hysterical - even by Harrison's standards - to hold much appeal, but I can imagine the artist happily sheltering in it.