Defiant of lofty concept, this show is pure unapologetic revelry employing a humble decadence akin to Jeff Koons' silver plated Jim Beam boxcars; a show where dumpster bound cardboard packing-tape cylinders instead receive a lavish coating of acrylic colour; where masking tape generates paintings that scream with chaotic bliss.





Is this a papier-mâché disco or a plasticized depot? This is the intersection of work and whimsy, tradesman and trapeze artist. Aesthetics by way of magpie-eyed resourcefulness from a place sorely lacking in anything remotely eye-catching.



The work of play where pigment meets grey; if Edward Burtynsky's manufactory landscapes hold any allure, this show aims to make use of the idea as explosive pop art.





Eight to five, Monday to Friday, two days free and back to start; the cyclical beauty of the working-week, and what it causes an aesthetically motivated person to do amongst the doldrums, like trying to tie a weekly schedule into a loop from dusty starting-point to a carousing finish line.



Cyclical things are mesmerizing, as alcohol intoxication makes you loopy; is all of this the effect of mercenary exploitation amidst industrial chemicals or simply the confusions brought on from yet another gin tonic?





Gasoline in a puddle seen as beautifully iridescent as an oyster shell, the meeting of soft flesh with sheet metal as nearly sexual.

"Brash play" is a shipping-clerk's romanticization of his mind-numbingly dull atmosphere; a ridiculous parody of the laborious; an affirmation that the monotonous can ultimately achieve the monumental, and even perhaps a hilarious attempt at lifestyle balance. At core, however, this is a show all about the preservation of joy, and that no matter how mundane your life can be, you can always transform it into something more appealing.



(In addition, I've assembled a promotional video for "Brash Play", which I've posted on my YouTube page, featuring some original music I made about 7 years ago):