Exhibition: Trevor Gordon - Bunkur Skulptur, Art For The Writhing Mass
Exhibition Preview: Friday 11th May 2018, 7pm
Exhibition Dates: 11th - 24th May 2018, Mon/Wed/Thurs 5-7pm, Tues/Fri 10am-5pm, Sat/Sun 2-5pm
Wasps tenant at Meadow Mill, Dundee, Trevor Gordon presents a new exhibition - Bunkur Skulptur, Art For The Writhing Mass. This exhibition is a selection of sculptural pieces and framed prints created over the past four years based around an imagined narrative of death and artistic dystopianism. Varied in scale, some of the pieces are free standing, while others are to be displayed in vitrines.
Trevor Gordon - Bunkur Skulptur, Art For The Writhing Mass
I am writing this from my studio. I have barricaded the door and have enough food and water to see me through till the end. There are sirens in the streets. Outside the sounds of people and packs of dogs are indivisible. Bonfires of felt and macramé have loaded the sky with ash. I can see a man in a torn suit doodling on the solar panels of the roof next door.
Things have taken a turn. I have donned a freshly ironed boiler suit and a buzz-cut will deter hair-lice. It is a creative time. I have one tonne of artisanal clay, a five foot stack of newspaper, one hundred hog's hair paintbrushes and seventy tins of paint in a variety of hues of black. I have a further thirty six aerosol cans of shellac for fine finishes and to help me sleep.
Time passes slowly. My head feels like there is a spout emerging from my forehead. My hands are grown calloused and resemble deep-sea Crustacea. The power failed days ago and the wind-up radio broadcasts only static and the distant mumblings of American surrogates. The sun often fails to rise, but I can work with the light of burning satellites and tallow candles.
There must be a record for those who go on from here. Consciousness has a perished elasticity. I often awake with a new piece of art I have no memory of making. These often disappear through the dark days. Something is moving around on the mezzanine, scuttling and whispering. I have tried to spear it with a sharpened easel leg, but it is too fast.
I will box up my writings and the made things as a record. When this time passes, as it inevitably will, display it in a crisp white cubular space following my instructions.