Get us in your inbox

Search

Derek Jarman: Shadow Is the Queen of Colour review

  • Art
  • 4 out of 5 stars
  • Recommended
Derek Jarman 'Untitled (Ship in Bottle)' (1989). Image courtesy of Amanda Wilkinson Gallery, London and Keith Collins Will Trust
Advertising

Time Out says

4 out of 5 stars

As hypoallergenic environments go, there are few places more meticulously grime-free than the average art gallery and the items inside it. Not so with this small collection of Derek Jarman artworks. Go nose-to-nose with the sculptural canvases and you’ll start to notice a thin, perfect layer of… dust.

This isn’t – I’m guessing – because someone at Amanda Wilkinson has failed to do their job with the j-cloth properly, but because any attempted spring clean would risk taking half the artwork with it.

Jarman created these works from detritus found on the Dungeness beach where he lived: volcanic black tar and an assortment of other objects (photos, horse whips, toy planes etc). Made in 1989-90, they overlap considerably with the artist’s film 'The Garden', produced at the same time. Bibles, crucifixes and many of the titles (‘Matthew Mark Luke and John’, for example) connect with the film’s combining of the life of a gay couple with the story of Christ.

As artist and activist, Jarman has an incredibly devoted fan-base, meaning many visitors to this exhibition will be existing devotees. But for the uninitiated, the ones not intimately acquainted with his life and legacy, what you’ll see is a series of small wall-based works immediately evoking the sea.

In one, a chunk of driftwood shaped like an orca curves at the bottom of the canvas. In another, a ship in a bottle is smashed open. And in another yet, a tiny Christ figure peaks out from behind a condom-like squidge.

Each one half-resembles a shrine, like the Stella Maris icons found in coastal towns. But they’re also overwhelmingly fragile, everything one step away from crumbling. There’s the earthy dried flowers, the ash-coloured tar and, now, a gentle coating of dust. 

It’s the same delicate, wind-battered beauty as found at Britain’s freezing cold, bleached-out edges. The sort of beauty that probably wouldn’t appreciate a quick once-over with a feather duster.

Written by
Rosemary Waugh

Details

Address:
Price:
Free
Advertising
You may also like
You may also like