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This
exhibition of paintings, which opened on International Women's Day,
8 March 2003, was inspired by the name Placentia and touched
on feelings of female vulnerability. Haire's work draws heavily
on chance with images of fragility and anguish emerging through bleeding,
dripping, squirting and throwing paint. Female sexual forms, some
delicate and flower-like, contrast with others that are more violent and
bloody but all these intimations of womb or wound have a paradoxical tenderness
and subtlety.
Greenwich Palace was given the affectionate name of La Pleazaunce because
of its magnificent setting and the name was later Latinised to Placentia.
Henry VIII and Elizabeth I were both born in the Palace of Placentia and
they both regarded it as their favourite residence. |
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Susan
Haire's paintings imprint themselves on the mind like bright lights on
a closed eyelid; they are a repetition of red and crimson gashes, disappearing,
deep and intense, behind the pale and delicately veined foreground. "You
are looking at a secret hidden space that has all sorts of treasures in
it", says the artist. At
first sight and on a simplistic level the images might be seen as shocking
but look closer and delicate flowers and overlapping petals appear.
The paintings are gory, yet subtle, with different shades of reds
and pinks giving depth and contrasting with the flimsy, delicate tracery
of whites, pinks and violets, through which the void is viewed.
They are fragile, tender and lacy on one level, bloody and brutal on
the other.
"I
work very much with chance, dripping, flicking and squirting colours
to build up the painting", Susan explained. For most of the
Placentia paintings Susan started by painting a delicate watercolour
'flower' form. Then, sometimes masking the image, sometimes wiping
away the wet paint, she continued, using chance and the movement of
the paint, to create layer upon layer, adding depth and complexity,
constantly pushing the painting forwards.
For Susan, the work is representative of female vulnerability and the
strength involved in opening one's self up to experiencing pain, your
own and that of others. "A dear poet friend of mine underwent
a particularly nasty back operation last year
this (pointing at
a painting) is the wound." The paintings represent the pain
and the brutality of the surgery her friend suffered and our human vulnerability
to pain. Some feminists might find this idea of female vulnerability
unacceptable, disempowering, but Susan says, "Through our vulnerability
and a willingness to experience pain, comes women's strength and our
capacity for compassion. I would like the viewer to have an awareness
of the pain, but also to be touched by the poignancy and delicacy of
the paintings."
This
is an exciting and thought provoking exhibition, which sits on a knife-edge
between brutality and fragility. |
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