http://thesubmachine.wordpress.com/2013/02/09/neil-malone-feb-2013/
Words and images by Kent Wilson @ thesubmachine
Neil Malone, Feb 2013
Neil Malone, there/now/here/then
Stockroom Gallery, Kyneton; 9 February – 3 March 2013
The secret door, the hidden room, the entrance to the villain’s lair.
Remember those movies where someone felt along the wall, looking for
the right block of stone to push in? The stone that would depress and
open up a whole new space in the house. Or castle. I’m so compelled to
reach out and touch these highly haptic prints by Neil Malone that my
mind turns instantly to that memory. The surface of the prints is rich
in texture, complex in colouration. That idea of a portal release into
another space, another dimension, rings true of all good art. Art should
transport your mind and activate your central nervous system. Standing
here, enveloped by Neil’s prints, my body wants to move to them, then
into them. I feel their weight while knowing their lightness. My body
measures them while my eyes sweep endlessly over them.
Arranged in large grid formations the works read as building blocks,
as strings of data, or as pixels. They are rhythmic visual poems,
phrased and nuanced through patterned colour combinations and subtle
internal shape variations. Like good language they usurp their
supporting structure. As words on a page become visible realities inside
your mind, freed from their typeset arrangements on paper, Neil’s
prints free themselves from the wall. The grammar is abstracted like
musical notation and the viewer is the conductor – seeking chordal
combinations, finding refrains and a fermata for a pause.
Crack open each note though and you reveal a song. The unit is
complex. Each pixel, each byte, is a packet of yet more data. Get up
close and each print is a universe unto itself. Individuals reveal their
identity in the crowded mass. Oscillating happily between the singular
and the group it’s possible to pick up familial couplings. Cousined
connections. Partners wave from within the crowd.
Layered and worked the prints are imbued with time and process. They
are palimpsests of overwritten historical codes. Each print bears the
weight of labour and poured application of the artist’s attention. And
his intention. They are documents, as if a giant tome from a foreign
culture laid bare for examination. All the pages laid in formation. This
is
information in formation. It’s DNA, software code and a
colour score. It’s a feeling in your gut created by the fall of light on
your eyes. It’s the urge to decipher puzzles couched in the willingness
to surrender to beauty. It’s full and it’s embracing, and like a good
symphony it’s been playing in my head since my first visit.