WORDS GABIJA PURLYTĖ AND JENNIFER DUFFY
Francis Upritchard’s exhibition in the Douglas Hyde Gallery is fascinating and unsettling, confusing and heart-warming. It is bound to provoke a reaction from the viewer, a different one from each. tn2 offers you two such impressions to add and compare to your own.
Upritchard’s clay figures squint into space, often at eye-level with the viewer, confronting them with an eerie expression. The sculptures are reminiscent of carnival figures, with their painted faces and limbs, and their different costumes. Those whose arms hover indefinitely in the air are like puppets whose strings have been cut. JD
The artist wanted the figures to look quite dead, yet it is wonderful how expressive and alive the faces are, even though the squinted eyelids prevent us from seeing their gazes. On the other hand, this means we do not see them looking at us – they seem unaware of the viewers, each one engrossed in their own business. Not for a second does one doubt that each of the characters has a history behind it. GP
Francis Upritchard is from New Zealand, but many of her sculptures with their shawls and capes are reminiscent of figures from the Irish past. Other costumes are brightly coloured – such as the jester whose skin has the same diamond pattern as his outfit. His jaunty attitude contrasts with many of the other figures who seem remote and disconnected. There are just six figures in the main room of the gallery, each raised on a platform. They are spaced out, as though engaged in a strange dance or a masque.
The architecture of the Douglas Hyde gallery is fortuitous; the characters inhabit its different spaces rather than float in the neutrality of a Modernist “white cube”, so that Susan, alone in her sheltered corner under the staircase, appears timid, secluding herself.
The last figure lies suspended on a high platform, one hand clenched, the other loose. Whether asleep or dead, she is striking, perhaps the only figure who seems to be at peace.
Her relationship with the Potato Seller in that same space, though, is intriguing…
The viewer can walk around the figures, and notice details such as the tiny purse hidden in the back of the waistband of a “Liar” (see above).
The sculptures emanate the care and love that the artist has put into them – carving out each fingernail, arranging the hair. This gives a curious ambivalence to the figures – on the one hand, their sinister, mischievous, or even pathetic expressions, on the other, the extraordinary care and attention that you know has been devoted to them. Scale undoubtedly plays a role; the figures appear vulnerable, in any case weaker than you. Also, the slightly amateurish feel, which makes you both wonder at the skill of the artist and still see the unmistakable touch of a human hand. The deformations are endearing – like the leg that grows straight from the centre of the little green man, and might be made that way simply to keep him upright, but also gives him a lovely particularity.
From the bright green figure who lunges into a dynamic sun salute, to the lost-looking woman whose hand grasps at the air, there is great variety throughout. Many of the sculptures are haunting and disquieting, which is one of the best things about this exhibition – it is confusing, and it definitely provokes a reaction.
Though the figures are semi-fantastical creatures, the exhibition incites thoughts about the wonder that is each single person – their ‘imperfect’ body, their unique life story, and their irreplaceable role in the network of people they form part of.
The exhibition continues until 6 November 2013. Admission free
