Counterweight – Review by Liv Collins

On a bright, blue-skied yet bitter Wednesday morning, I weave my way through the streets, heading towards Newcastle Arts Centre. Wrapping my scarf around my ears and turning my face towards the sun, I soon arrive at the bourbon-biscuit shaped building, and hop inside. Its warmth makes me sigh, and I feel a growing excitement in my chest as I walk through the Craftshop, reaching the gallery at the back of the building. Here, in this white-washed room, sits, stands and hangs, the work of four Newcastle-based emerging artists in the new exhibition, Counterweight.

“…the initial spiritual-feeling of the space is actually pricked by a strange, dark, cheekiness…”

I’m glad I got here early. The freshly mopped floors and the fact I have the space to myself makes me smile. But what strikes me immediately, is how the space feels. Kind of holy – almost sacred. It’s quiet, it’s bright. The artistic emblems of ritual and myth simultaneously stand out yet sing together. The gentle curve of the ceiling (which also reminds me of a railway arch), adds to the spiritual feeling of this tucked away space. Inside this room is the art of Bethany Stead, Mani Kambo, Laurie Powell and Sean Alec Auld. They fill the space with contemporary ceramics, coded paintings, charred oak, licking womxn, intricate knots, lead stolen from church roofs, and so much more.

I start to stroll around the artworks, notebook in hand – pen poised. The more I look, and immerse myself in the exhibition, the more I realise that the initial spiritual-feeling of the space, is actually pricked by a strange, dark, cheekiness. In the far-right corner sits Sean Alec Auld’s sculpture, The Great Mime. This piece is made up of an old wooden step ladder and an arrangement of cascading stones. Some of these stones are carefully encased in blue knotted rope. On one side of the ladder, the words ‘f*ck you’ have been scrawled in yellow. They’re barely intelligible, but they’re there. Revealing themselves cheekily to the observant eye. The industrial blue rope around some of the stones also reminds me of shibari – a Japanese style of bondage. I also get this vibe from Sean’s installation at the front of the space, where a huge tooth shaped mound of granite is intricately knotted in the same blue rope, hanging in the air. Suspended from this taught rope, anchored to the ground by heavy, interlocking stone ~ I can’t help but interpret a quiet kinky quality from this piece. Whether this was the artists’ intention or not, I’m not sure. What’s clear is that there’s a subtle cheekiness imbedded within Alec’s work.

“…queer-coded, clever, created by the fast hand of an artist who has a lot to say…”

Opposite this piece, in the top lefthand corner of the space, Bethany Stead’s installation surveys the room. Paintings and drawings hang on a geometric wooden frame, creating a screen which at first feels semi-religious. The folded nature of this piece makes me think of a painted icon you might see in a church, perhaps near an altar. But unlike the womxn you see in religious artworks, Bethany depicts womxn as playful, untamed and mischievous. Dangling bunches of grapes into each other’s mouths, licking one and other, transforming into wild creatures, with hairy bodies that writhe in pleasure. As well as killing animals and wearing their skins whilst roasting the slayed meat on a fire. You know, girly stuff. I like how subversive this work feels – queer-coded, clever, created by the fast hand of an artist who has a lot to say. It’s these subtle, cheeky, dark elements that add a punch to the show – adding depth to what initially felt like a purely virtuous space.

I continue wandering around the room. My gaze immediately pulled towards the bold monochromatic symbols – of hands, snakes and eyes that hang from one wall. These works stand out in the space, in part because of the sharp contrast of these striking black symbols on white fabric. These eye-catching emblems come from the hand, heart and mind of Mani Kambo. They are Mani’s personal totemic symbols, inspired by her Sikh upbringing and her own spirituality. I like the idea that only Mani knows what these symbols truly mean, and it feels innately generous of the artist to share them with us.

I resume my rounds, and plant myself in front of Rose. A small, framed piece containing five dried (and v thorny) rose stems, by Laurie Powell. The thorns are so sharp that even looking at them feels dangerous. But the wooden frame balances this sense of danger, controls it perhaps. There are still small buds on the stems that make my heart hurt. Not in a sad way, but in a ‘f*ck that’s so cute and I love nature’ kind of way.

“…I like the idea that only Mani knows what these symbols truly mean, and it feels innately generous of the artist to share them with us…”

As I’m wondering if these thorns would be able to slice through my skin, a man with grey hair and brown shoes strolls into the space. He walks slowly around the works, humming gently, Primark bag in hand. He stays for a while with Sean Alec Auld’s installation The Great Mime, takes out his phone and snaps a few photos. I wonder if he knows he’s just taken a photograph of a sculpture that says ‘f*ck you’. I smile to myself as I turn away from the thorns. I like how people can just stroll into this exhibition, especially those who might not regularly engage with the work of emerging artists. It feels exciting, promising.

The skill that each artist has for their craft, is truly mesmerising. As I’m peering at this show from all angles, what really strikes me is the small details. Like the eye of the animal in Bethany’s painting For Yourself. Although it’s now part of a skin worn by a womxn, dead and unseeing, it still feels so alive. I honestly can’t take my eyes off it ! Artists are magic. The fact that she can create so much emotion and movement in a couple of brushstrokes, is nothing short of alchemy. I also love how the blood dripping from this animal’s skin, metamorphosizes into red thread, which continues the trickle of blood from where the paper ends, spooling itself onto the floor.

I like how Laurie has collected and arranged tiny, vibrant, blue feathers from a jay, in the sculpture, Work Life Balance. These feathers sit on a wooden weighing scale, which is weighed down by handmade lead coins. And are you ready for the description the artist wrote of this work? ‘Cherry stolen from a Duke, clay from Chathill, wool from Wooler, jay feathers from Rugley Woods and lead from a church roof. Does anyone else hear the weather, telling you to quit your job?’ The poetry! The silliness! The magic of it!

I love all these clever, careful decisions that the artists and curator have made. Like the precise knots and coils in Mani’s hanging rope installations, which I honestly can’t wrap my head around how she made. I could go on and on, but this show really is a feast of considered, delicious details.

I leave a small note on the visitor book and wrap my scarf back around my head. As I walk outside into the cold, my heart feels full. Newcastle is such an exciting place to experience art right now. It’s exhibitions like Counterweight, which not only showcase emerging artists, but support them too, which helps to sustain the vibrant art scene of this city. Newcastle Arts Centre, you were worth the trip. Here’s to many, many more.

Article by Liv Collins

Counterweight runs in the Newcastle Arts Centre gallery, from 20th January – 24th February Open Monday – Saturday, 09:30 – 17:00

Featuring Sean Alec Auld, Mani Kambo, Laurie Powell and Bethany Stead

Curated by Jed Buttress

Supported by the Creative Central: NCL programme, funded by the North of Tyne Combined Authority and Newcastle City Council