More Lies (2020) Magda Archer
Street poster spotters will already be aware of Magda Archer’s refulgent, biting and thoughtfully impatient paintings. Her More Lies(2020) captures perfectly the horror at realising you’ve fallen for it again. Been hoodwinked by those you’d maybe expect to be able to trust. Again.
There’s a spiky brawl of colour going on in and around the mouse-like critter. Scratchy black mark-making battles with the pinks and blue, the greens and greys in such a way as to corroborate the creature’s aghast and infuriated facial expression.
You were expecting to be served something dependable, wholesome, beneficial. But what came along with the carrots? Nothing you asked for. Cummings, more like. More lies, more like.
Throughout COVID-19 lockdown you’ve been a good mouse, doing your bit, feeling afraid, uneasy but eating up your ‘greens’ as requested. Only to realise that what’s been served up on a plate by Johnson and Co. is worse than unpalatable. It’s criminal.
Caution 2020 (2020) Haydon Kays
Hayden Kays is a newcomer to flyingleaps. His Caution 2020 (2020) couldn’t be more timely given the useless prevarication and attempted decoy distractions visited on us weekly, daily by our would-be political overlords.
Kays has an impressive history of making works that deftly, economically, wittily tilt at social, political and personal fails and imperfections. His 2016 ‘USA’ wreath poignantly says it with flowers: Trump is the death of the United States of America.
His small but beautifully apt urban interventions: remembrance plaques fixed to public benches that read ‘In Loving Memory of Human Contact – H.Kays 2020’ are both droll and heartbreaking.
A nod to suffragette defacement of penny coins, Kays’ commemorative fifty-pence piece is a perfect apercu for our times. The disingenuous and flagrant lies promising ‘Peace, prosperity and friendship with all nations’ is hand stamped with the mournful tongue in cheek quip ‘I MISS BREXIT’.
Since the launch of flyingleaps many of us thought we were living through the worst of times. Turns out it was just the beginning. It’s time to flip the narrative.
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Spaffed (2020) kennardphillipps
Spaffed (2020), the latest flyingleaps poster by political art duo kennardphillipps, features the current No. 10 Evil-Clown-in-Residence Boris Johnson.
The original print and hand-crafted portrait on American and British Stocks pages of the Financial Times drew a comment along the lines of ‘They’ve blacked him up, that’s racist!’ Erm, no. They haven’t. And it isn’t. Though Johnson’s noxious, inflammatory language is.
In Spaffed we see the PM wearing what’s known as the ‘Auguste’ clown face. In traditional clown hierarchy this posits him as a simpleton, somewhere between the ‘Boss’ and the ‘Tramp’ clowns: twixt SPAD Cummings and the new Chancellor then?
The title of the work refers, of course, to Johnson’s use of the word in his criticism of money spent on historic child abuse investigations. The collapse of a case involving high profile politicians notwithstanding, for survivors of abuse the past is never buried. And, again, for the current PM to have used such a crass, inappropriate word in this context betrays a savage disregard on his part. It also talks about the depth to which political discourse has sunk under his berserker buffoon influence. Who was the intended ‘audience’ for this remark? Who was it supposed to chime with?
Spaffed completes a trilogy of kennardphillipps’ Brexit PMs. The flyingleaps project kicked off with their Study for a Head 7 (2016). At one reading this was David Cameron rendered again in stark black and white on the FT’s salmon-pink pages but with a raw, critical strip torn off. Profit (2017) came next with PM Theresa May’s face minus her eyes. A creepy, myopically harping visage who, it turned out, really didn’t have a clue. Now that Spaffed has joined the throng a trio of cocky incompetence is complete.
Leap Year 1968 (2019) Robert Davidson
It’s all here in black and white… A lean woman leaping over the folded form of a taut man: shared dynamism, force and strength jumps out at us from Robert Davidson’s photograph. Purveyors of ‘fashion, music and hippie culture’ London Co. 'Osiris Visions' popped the words ‘Leap Year’ in pink above her shoulders when they published this as a poster in 1968. Back then it was also overprinted, co-opted by occupying students to muster direct action, protest against an LSE director thought to be complicit in Rhodesia’s racist regime. More than half a century later, in leap year 2020 it still packs a radical punch.
In an otherwise comprehensive and erudite book ‘Posters’ – in contrast to the Atelier Populaire’s militant output – Bevis Hillier posited Davidson’s image as ‘decorative’, a ‘frivolous novelty’. Somehow a precursor to Athena’s arse scratching tennis player. It’s nothing of the kind. Leap Year 1968 (2020) for flyingleaps is braced with energy, optimism and a fervent, anti-establishment playfulness. And play, especially collaborative play, foments imagination, creativity. It conjures other realities and imagining alternative modes of being is the most political of acts. It affords opportunities to see the world and our place in it differently.
Leapfrogging the slew of mainstream media mischief and vainglorious right-wing politicking is not an option. Things look bleak but, as Gary Younge signed off his final Guardian column saying, “The propensity to despair is strong, but shouldn’t be indulged. Sing yourself up. Imagine a world in which you might thrive, for which there is no evidence. And then fight for it.” Stay true and never give up.
Ben Turnbull’s MADe In America (2019)
This is the latest superb, arresting and timely addition to the flyingleaps collection. His signature approach to collage being particularly suited to street display: they catch our attention from afar and up close amply reward sustained viewing.
So Turnbull’s work engages in a number of ways. First the bold and eye-catching portraiture wrought from rich swirling slicks and slabs of colour and tone. On closer inspection of MADe In America we see form dissolve into a wriggling mass of flesh, ears and eyes that make up this 45th ‘Kebab-Face in Chief’. Jokers and clowns colonise his shirt collar. Dark deeds appear in the cut of his suit and, of course, there’s a screaming skull in his tie knot… All created from the artist’s painstakingly researched and cleverly employed source material, namely comics.
But this isn’t straightforward collage, the medium contributes to and propels the message. A recent show American History X Volume III - Manifest Decimation saw Turnbull produce a bold critique of the historical and contemporary mistreatment of Native American Indians, these were gripping images but the fact that they were collaged from Western – Cowboy & Indian – Comics introduces further degrees of critical wit and complexity.
Likewise for Turnbull’s flyingleaps outing. A portrait of Trump flicking the finger perfectly captures the president’s petulant contempt, his ugly, windy arrogance. Then realising the work deploys clippings from the pages of the classic US satirical Mad Magazine adds a droll, pithy rebuttal of pretty much everything the current POTUS likes to think he stands for. He’s a joke but a darkly calamitous and extremely dangerous one.
Look out for Turnbull’s MADe In America on the streets of London, Manchester, Bristol, Brighton, Glasgow. And don’t miss out on this latest opportunity to continue to collect some of the best of contemporary art around.
Every age (has its own fascism) (2019)
This is Jeremy Deller’s second artists’ poster print for flyingleaps. It’s another excoriating critique of the self-serving, mealy-mouthed politics we’re currently being subjected to. The original Primo Levi quote continues… ‘There are many ways of reaching this point, and not just through the terror of police intimidation, but by denying and distorting information, by undermining systems of justice, by paralyzing the education system, and by spreading in a myriad subtle ways nostalgia for a world where order reigned.’
This is where we’re at right now. The UK mired in a chaos stoked by neoliberal myopia, right wing greed and xenophobia; a chaos massaged by mainstream media at the service of elites who couldn’t give a toss about creating a fairer society. Rather, wearing a velvet glove of deceitful, manipulative populism, an authoritarian and bigoted iron fist is being wielded at the centre of power and that, as we’ve seen, gives licence to narrowmindedness, boorish thuggery and worse across the country.
Apart from More That Unites Us (2017) and Agitate In Memoriam (2018) which are currently limited to a run of 100, each edition is limited to 300.
ALL POSTERS ARE 30X20 INCHES.
All are numbered and signed on the back by the artist.
Posters are mailed 1st class – to be signed for – every Monday.
Dr. D aka Subvertiser
While the debate goes on as to whether flyposted and other oppositional art or visual activism has any direct effect in bringing about sociopolitical change, what it can do at its best is feed into the publics’ disposition.
Through strong imagery, cogent or quizzical text, humour, relatively speedy production and distribution, via its capacity to occupy anomalous spaces in the urban environment and through an imaginative, enacted engagement with matters of concern it can generate social media interest and help inform, even propel, opinion.
Dr. D’s targets include surveillance culture; the social effects of neoliberalism; commodification; mealy-mouthed and uncaring politicians; abuses of power in the media… Much more than bald sloganeering Dr. D’s imagery and text pieces often emerge, on reflection, as enigmatic meditations on twenty-first century existential angst.
Transgressing boundaries can reveal hidden rules. One could cite the precedents of the carnivalesque ‘telling truth to power’, vaudevillian comedy, Dada gestures in art but all of these, in a – it’s only a bunch of pucks/entertainers/artists – sense, operated in ‘sanctioned’ arenas. Dr. D’s contributions to the urban environment are rarely sanctioned and it’s this that contributes significantly to their traction and incisiveness.
The urban spectacle would have us believe that its over-riding character is, yes aspirational, but emphatically neutral and apolitical: that generally we’re going to be just fine if we carry on pretty much as we are. Dr. D’s pithy interventions, highlighting so many germane issues and employing such a variety of modes of address, repeatedly suggest otherwise.