Alison Little is a North West based Artist who works across the creative spectrum. Often working around the medium of Textiles, the use of reclaimed materials is key within her practice. Her sock toys and card collections are available at ArtsHub and she regularly exhibits in the Gallery Space throughout the year.
Kaleidoscope Eyes is the second painting in the series from Liverpool based artist: Alison Little.
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, the Beatles classic, is being illustrated in stages afresh.
In this works she depicts the pattern of the kaleidoscope through the eyes. Using the concept of sixties style glasses, made icon by Lennon, combined with a central parting. The feathered hair leads into the fire filled marmalade skies. The river is edge by tangerine trees, bth appear to be dancing intime to melody.
Installation: Quarantine reflects the poem; Quarantine, from the late Eavan Bolan.
In the worst hour of the worst season
of the worst year of a whole people
a man set out from the workhouse with his wife.
He was walking—they were both walking—north.
She was sick with famine fever and could not keep up.
He lifted her and put her on his back.
He walked like that west and west and north.
Until at nightfall under freezing stars they arrived.
In the morning they were both found dead.
Of cold. Of hunger. Of the toxins of a whole history.
But her feet were held against his breastbone.
The last heat of his flesh was his last gift to her.
Let no love poem ever come to this threshold.
There is no place here for the inexact
praise of the easy graces and sensuality of the body.
There is only time for this merciless inventory:
Their death together in the winter of 1847.
Also what they suffered. How they lived.
And what there is between a man and woman.
And in which darkness it can best be proved.
Eavan Boland, born Dublin, Ireland 1944-died Dublin, Ireland 2020.
Two, rather soiled, life size figurines from polythene brimming with printed media to represent man and wife. Using related working techniques to that of ‘Jane’ produced for the 2017 Liverpool Irish Festival. The forms contain printed statements, statistics and quotes from the literal work: Quarantine. Quotes to identify with 20-25% of the population which were lost between the famine and emigration. Further linkage over how there was no ban on the export of food as there had been in the famine of 1782-3. Additional items of found object presented, for instance; modelled blighted potatoes, manifesting the poem and the period of An Gorta Mór/The Great Famine.
‘Worst’ is repetitive throughout the poem, highlighting the disparengies of the late 1840’s. Black acrylic paint was applied using flicking techniques across the inner of the polythene to represent the anguish and distress the couple endured and 1847 being titled ‘Black 47’, the worst year of the famine. The leaving of the workhouse to be determined by printed replicas of discharge papers and statements included within the forms. Newspaper articles of the period relating to the hardships and failing crops align the bodies further. Raggard clothing is prominent, showing how workhouse conditions often meant that clothing was often re-used from those who have died from fever and dysentry without being laundered. The roll up buts draw attention to how the smoking of tobacco was commonplace among the poor and labouring class during the Victorian era. This leads to tooth decay, studies show that up to 80% of famine victims suffered from poor oral health. The empty bottle of whiskey is equally familiar, the Irish took the drink to the United States through the period of mass emigration due to the famine. A rural location is suggested through the chain and shackle, habitual within farming communities.
Walking on foot for a prolonged distance is implied by uncomplicated shoe soles to the outer surfaces of the man’s feet. To be sufficiently degraded to push the concept of ‘Worn thin’ to the extreme. Women were often barefoot, her shoe soles not present. Hunger is simulated by the inclusion of modelled blighted Irish lumber potatoes. Created from potato clay, this is actually produced from flour and cornstarch but named potato clay due to it’s mash-like qualities in production. Acrylic paints reinforce the idea of blight through white areas. The potatoes to be situated around the wife’s breast to identify with the female form. Fake foliage leaves with black speckles are to reflect the toxins of the times. Leaves are prominent around the groin, giving an indication of public hair and unquestionably the human form. The female form to display a kerchief, the male a cloth peak cap, both to be well worn.
The figures are positioned on a floor based sack cloth, woven and tattered. This will form the impression of being exposed to the elements, lying the sack cloth down as a blanket to protect from ground frost. Stones to be added within the figures and to transient the exhibits to indicate rough sleeping.
The figures are located to show man and wife: an intertwining between hands and an evident physical connection. True to the poem the wife’s feet held against the husband’s breastbone, red papers indicating the remnant of heat present in his body, white papers presenting the notion of frost engaged within the female.
Installation: Quarantine was created for the Liverpool Irish Festival, looking to be shown late March, however due to the current restrictions and lockdown this is to be determined at a later stage.
The hand painted Elvis guitar is the latest work from artist Alison Little.
We have a love song being performed, the unforgettable white sequin jumpsuit introducing rhythm. The loveable smile and we are ‘ALL SHOOK UP’ by the lyrics. ‘Elvis’ in lights crosses into the inners of the string instrument. The ‘King’ is proclaimed and finished off with the Hollywood Star.
The sister-in-law you despise, the one you would rather spit at than partake in her company! Overweight, unattractive, poorly presented and controlling in the extreme. In spite of the fact you have not been a teenager in the 2 decades when you first met, she still treats you in this manner. Condescending and responding like you’re a reckless adolescent in comparison with her self appointed status as a responsible adult.
Take tampon, dip in semtex, package in herb patterned wrapping paper. Declare they have aromatherapeutic qualities when heated. Simply insert as standard then light the string…
Gold credit card: Brother-in-law
The Brother-in-law who will insist on dining at the most expensive restaurants, ensure that you are unable to order a round of drinks separately. Then profess to pay the check in full, his next move being to inform everyone you didn’t pay for diddly-squat. A routine he repeats with family, friends and colleagues providing substance for reports over picking up the tab.
Give him a gold credit card, suggest it is limitless and instruct him to pay on plastic. Next time he insists on paying the manager will come over to inform him his card has been rejected.
Handmade crushed glass Soap: the Mother-in-law
The Mother-in-law who nags continually, virtually insists you mistreat ‘Her’ grandkids. Ceaselessly highlights examples of her being better to ‘Her’ son than you. More learned than all, particularly in the raising of children. A Matriarch you would rather munch on glass than preside through another one of her misinformed lectures.
Follow the instructions for a effilating bar of handmade soap, then as opposed to sand or oats: add fragments of mashed glass.
Bottle opener: Father-in-law
The Father-in-law who treats women as second-class citizens, asserting that talk of sexism is women making too much of a fuss. Decides he is superior in knowledge, continually acting as if you are of lower intelligence and dismissing your opinions. Repetitively informing all that will listen that you are confused when it is generally him that is confused.
Get him a bottle opener with a standard ‘Easily Confused when drunk’ inscription. Take a file and reduce the ‘When drunk’ so as it’s illegible, ensuring he is left with an ‘Easily Confused’ bottle opener.
Dolly Peg for the Home Boy nephew
The rather grey nephew who has failed to move out of the paternal home or ever had a girlfriend. Week, feeble and very limited in terms of conversational skills. The one who continued to go clothes shopping with his mother into adulthood, still there when she is purchasing underwear. The most exciting scenario you could imagine happening to him is overdosing on Viagra.
The solution: a dolly peg, then label it ‘Girl friend’, the nearest he will ever get to finding a life partner.
…….clip that on your peni*………
Piranha Tea Bag; the Boss
The over talking boss who cherishes nothing more than the sound of his own voice and the opportunity to use it in front of an audience. Three hour staff meetings are mandatory and he does 90% of the mouthing while the staff are required to listen intently. Your daily work routine being intersected by more informal, extended, needless briefings. You hold your tongue as he discusses profitability and best business practice, never inquiring over how much staff time and money is being misused harking to his neverending preambles.
Take tea bag, remove the filling, replace with tongue eating piranhas, resulting in no tongue and losing the ability to speak.
Hash Cookies: Busy Body Neighbour
The neighbour who perpetually gossips and repeats statements about ‘Making the area look bad’. Obese, wearing old clothes and accessivily common and your obliged not to point out the she makes the area look bad. Steadily complaining about music that’s ‘Too loud’ and determines that all matters must be because of ‘Drugs’.
Follow the instructions for chocolate chip cookies but substitute the chocolate for hash, add extra hash. Give them to her and get video footage of her totally stoned, then post on her facebook homepage.
‘Thank-you’ candle: Primary school Teacher
The primary school teacher, who notwithstanding your child being a straight ‘A’ pupil you have to sit through drawn out sermons on parents evening. The last one being how you should teach phonetic sounds of letters to children not correct pronunciation; ‘a, bu, cu’ not ‘Aigh, Bee, Cee’. When you explained that your child could already read comprehensively before they moved into her class, she stated that it was for the benefit of the less advanced pupils. So not only are you supposed to be teaching your child, not her, you are also supposed to be teaching the other pupils additionally. As your mind wandered off, you began to think about your vagina feeling a little dry, could it be the menopause? As you looked at the teacher administering the talking to, you started to question if she was old enough to menstruate.
Go to £1 shop, get candle with individual, removable ‘Thank-you’ letters. Take of the ‘Than’, leaving the ‘K’, then replace with ‘Fuc’.
Tucked away on the bend of Bentley Road, Leach utilizes the residential window space of her property to create the ‘Burned Cannabis Farm Gallery’.
The exhibition space was entitled ‘Burned Cannabis Farm Gallery’ after the activities in the property next door. Utilized for the cultivation of cannabis it was raided by the Police at first light one Sunday morning during the initial lockdown. Since then it has been set on fire several times, arrests in relation to the activities are ongoing.
An unusual property dating from the 1860s, both Cathedrals had yet to be constructed. The Royal Albert Dock has opened, but Tate Liverpool was a future re-development. The Walker Gallery had not been established and the Bluecoat functioned as a school and not the arts venue of today. As the leading cultural institutions offer us simply, ‘No way in’, Leach has presented a window gallery, allowing us to access art during the lockdown restrictions of the pandemic.
Leach spent her professional life as a nurse, on her retirement she began to pursue her artistic fervour. After completing a fine arts degree over in the wild realms of Wirral Met, she has developed into a key figure within the Liverpool artistic Community.
A stone’s throw from the Turner Prize-winning collective ‘Assemble’ and the regeneration of Cairns Street we via into leafy Bentley Road. A shrub lined view of presents the impressive images of Liverpool, the Metropolis in which we thrive. The retro net curtains offer an almost ghost-like appearance of the urban space. Probing to the side of the property we encounter a most admirable triplet of arches casing the details of the works exhibited. Alongside the splendour of the archaic doorbell, we are enlightened by the finer details of the paintings presented.
Calmness prevailing in the image of Waterloo seafront draws forth, resonating with viewing ease. The relaxed, outstretched seafront decorated by the familiar colours of the houses which aline the escapade. The contemporary relevance of ‘Birthday in Lockdown’ cannot be ignored, in addition to a familiar favourite, ‘The Albert’ on Lark Lane. We may not be able to drink at its bar but when can admire its presence through Leach’ rendering.
At a time the cultural leaders are closing doors, Leach is opening new ones. We have a gallery space which looks beyond the confines of the traditional cultural venues. A fully accessible fusion of visual arts into the 24/7 pace of contemporary urban living.
Will the rise of the window gallery last beyond lockdown? Will large cultural organisations be overtaken by grass routes initiatives? Are window viewing solutions to lockdown restrictions ready to take centre stage in the Global cities of tomorrow?
Tittle-Tattle is the latest feminist artwork from the conceptual artist: Alison Little. For this works, she utilises a common-place domestic rolling pin and carved a series of comments which reflect on how women judge other women on their domestic abilities. ‘Tittle-Tattle’ refers to the gossipy nature of females, those that blither over abilities to carry out household chores.
Some comments are written in hand-writing style fonts to reflect dialogue, others are statements and present bold fonts. We look towards the subject of ‘Blinds’ one area where women frequently judge others on how clean their blinds are on passing other properties. The competitive nature of women and cleanliness, the women’s league table of cleanliness, when they grade others on how clean there home is in comparison to their own. We look toward other domestic matters, ‘Your Iron’ being a dialect projecting a gossip like a statement implying it is dirty and unusable. Moving onto the mater of cooking, an area where women strive to be superior to others. The statement, ‘A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,’ implying that the only purpose of female existence is to please men and through homemaking.
Homeownership is introduced, how in Britain this deemed vital to status. Addressing the way women feel able to discriminate openly over property ownership in matters when collateral is not a factor. Apply for simple bank accounts, places at nursery schools and memberships to associations. This develops further into comparisons of what areas other reside in and if their homes were once local authority owned. Property ownership in term of scale being used to measure a woman’s status as opposed to more vital factors. We try to address how in some area’s of the country, the capital in particular women are frequently excluded from property ownership through escalating costs even when earning a good salary. Address issues when they may have needed financial assistance, a springboard mortgage or my be bring up dependants and the single earner. They may make major contributions to society by earn very little that could be measured through homeownership, perhaps they work within the charity sector, creative industries or as a Minister.
How women present themself and ways in which they find to determine they are aesthetically superior to others. Designer brand clothes, hair set weekly, frequent use of nail bars and endless spa treatments. The over-use of systems of vanity which make them inferior to others.
Tittle-Tattle looks to challenge these attitudes and for women to be judgement-free within the domain of the home.
Last weekend, we gained alarming droplets of information that Tracey Emin, former Turner Prize winner and forever Bad girl of British art, was suffering from cancer, escalating, full-blown during the pandemic. As a result, she underwent major surgery while our hospitals were crammed to the brim with covid coughing patients.
After being operated on by 12 surgeons for 6 1/2 hours, half of her lower abdomen organs and most of her vagina removed, the leading artist of the YBA generation shows us she’s still got Emin rhetoric:
‘I managed to keep all of my clitoris, not that it’s working.’
She is now in remission from the rapid, really aggressive cancer. Having to use a stoma bag, luckless, but she still wears the classically crooked smile on her face.
Bladder cancer is often misdiagnosed in women who are often treated for common urinary infections. The disease is often associated with old men and heavy smokers, but the artist who scattered numerous packets of Lambert and Buttler over ‘My Bed’ has not smoked for decades. Around 50% of sufferers of Bladder cancer with go onto dye from the disease, mainly due to late diagnosis.
An anxious time for Emin, she lost one of her cousin to covid over the summer months. Eminently familiar with the disease, her mother passing from a similar tumor in 2009.
Nonetheless, her reaction was not that of dread, despair or questioning mortality, she draws parallels between the bladder cancer diagnosis and the shape of the organ she has depicted on her latest abstract canvas. When she was first shown an image of the tumour, she noted that it was almost identical to a red painting she had been working on.
An immensely productive summer was the artists directive, despite her tiredness and requirement for recovery periods. She held a very successful show, Solitude, at the White Cude. Details of Love, opened at Xavier Hufkiens in Brussels last month. She has also been preparing for a show at the Royal Academy of Arts, Loneliness of the Soul, when she exhibits alongside Edvard Munch.
In addition to this, Emin found time to support the Black Life Matters protests. Of particular interest, the slave trader statue of Edward Colston being toppled in Bristol. Emin’ grandfather was a Sudanese slave who managed to breakout to liberation in Turkey at the onset of the last century.
In terms of artwork, Emin feels that she has much more to create. She is currently decamping from East London back to her childhood domain of Margate. In this she is looking to face her demons;
‘Darkness to get out before I die.’
Stoma bag in toe, she will be dipping into the murky waters of coastal Kent once more.
Emin drawing a parallel between bladder cancer and the mark-making processes of her canvasses reveal to all; she is an artist first and a human being second.
Ballast Capturing leaves They fall, season dictates Bittersweet oranges Tarnished umbers Dishevelled, reduced Erstwhile leafy; vivid Fresh, fertile edged Now dispersed; decay
Grid formed geometric, they dwindle Ashtray of the urban Green space Stands ruptured Handle thrust forward Splintered forth Collision engaged Chain of Bargains Discount stores Line the city Multi-pack Multi-discount Multi-consumers Seeking conserve Coins stretched Pennies pinched
Leaf forms flutter Wind-stream low-lying Descending, cascading lines across lines up lines down all circuits, every route A catchment tool Scathing, downward to decay End of foliage End of season Death, frosts enrol, white Hapless Nix evergreen One-season wonder Beautify Age Fall Finis through downfall
Grassland encompasses Dictated requisite Local authority; provide parklands Urban respite Greenery, foliage Escape from high rise From Victorian terraces From two up, two downs
Field for fireworks Discarded shells strew pathways Fly high, hell toward heaven Assisted by death masks Halloween trickle-treaters This year, pandemic banned Also, the goons of heroin Pale and malnourished Elongated faces Skin stretched around bones Checks zipped up Lines of ghostly toxin
In tandem: the street drinkers Groups up early Cider engaged Strongest, shop vends Penny laden purchases Doss money change Begged from passers-by Those to work Students drenched; social empathy Provide coppers Cans swelling Mud drenched Hair excesses Scattered; Societies edges.
Succeeding, with sundown Brasses splay Brandishing streets Curtailing cars Curb crawlers A flying trick More heroin More cider More degradation More eradication
Lock down A park markedly altered Notes of saxophone engage airwaves practise; open air Culture to the pastures Sunday offers gospel Singer positioned Hilltop Apex of Everton Belts out chorus’ Songs of the lord Hope and Faith Despondent juncture
Park reclaimed Exercise Prescribed one daily session Decreed by governance National policies Shops, bars, cafes trade less Paths entertain joggers Hills platforms for training sessions Weights out Rope lines shook Sparring Skipping Muscle tone work
Families: one bubble Swing parks restricted Other playmaking sourced Ball rhetoric Skates Scooters Screeches of pleasure
Now; leaves diminish Winter approaches Pandemic set to end What will spring behold? Families to soft play centres Exercise at the gym Sax to rehearsal space Gospel singing in church
Post pandemic return Paths of dog walkers Goons of heroin Hairs of street drinkers Covid diminished Urban sprawl to return