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l’ransmission Gallery, Glasgow until Sat 14 Dec.

To paraphrase the catalogue for Transmission’s SEE TilliDUGllBlllllll, seven artists challenge verbal knowledge using visual perception and areas of the mind rarely visited.

With so much art reliant on titles and philosophical wordiness, this ironic statement begs an obvious question - shouldn’t that always be the case in visual art? But politics aside, in places this exhibition manages to be thought-provoking rather than simply a young, clever- clever homage to 90$ aesthetics and taste. This is achieved with several strong video contributions and a creative, technology-driven sculpture.

Yasue lchlge’s IAm Sensitive Being and Burnout are excellent. Short, simple and punchy, with good production values, these videos tire on numerous levels. Impotence and innovation. Stupidity and intelligence. Consciousness and matter. As visual and aural metaphors, they should be seen and savoured.

likewise, Alastair Mackinven’s The Power 0! The Divine ls Greater Than The Wrath D! A Woman Scorned is sculpture that lives up to its name. Using steam and an extraction tan mounted inside an eight-toot wooden column, it creates a mini-tornado, and is fascinating. With engineering prowess, Mackinven’s mesmeric ‘natural’ lorm rises through the air to be swallowed by a film noir image of

David lloonan’s Unique Forms Di Continuity In Space: cycling, part oi SEETllllDllCliBllAlll

a man attacking a woman. Talk about stormy passions . . . talk about the power of nature.

Although the remainder never quite equal the ‘magniticent seven’, Mark Waller’s must be the Yul Brynner oi the group. ills You ’re My Only llope is a violent, dangerous eulogy to a princess and a strong statement on abuse and voyeurism - it’s dark. (Paul Welsh)

Asking questions and observing daily goings-on. Griffith aimed to confront ‘the domestic world and the underlying philosophy of the everyday‘.

An interesting proposition. but unfortunately the end result is dry and not engaging. Months of wondering ‘what will she do‘." have now been answered not a lot. And it‘s not because the material is absent. The stories of Ruby. Chris, Sophia. Jean. Gordon. Norman (and someone called Anonymous) have been painstakingly recorded and arranged into texts. There are over 50 in total the books hang above trays containing further


Tramway. (Ilrrs‘garr' llllil/ Sun 22 Dee. As artist-iri~r'esiderrce on Strathclyde Buses. the energy behind Glasgow’s Pearce Institute and the creator of the stunning teaspoon chandelier a few years back. Nicola Atkinson-Griffith is an artist whose work provokes high expectations.

Her latest endeavour as part of Tramway's Unbelievable Truth exhibition has involved nine months of live-in contact with seven households. all within a mile radius of Tramway.

texts. which are spot-lit from above. But the experience is a chore. Start reading between the books to piece the text together and the novelty quickly wears-off.

This could be a statement about division: the fragmentation of the self. the loss of personally significant stories in rnass-information. or the melding of individual stories into one great social narrative. But those readings are charitable. Atkinson- Griffith should write the definitive ‘traditional‘ book with her collaborators. but as things stand. the work does little justice to her effort or their involvement. (Paul Welsh)

out in powder and Wedgwood blue. An intimidating interior for a ('ame

Dancing duo. let alone a solo artist. But Elizabeth Pardoe has got to grips

Assemva anus. lit/inbrrrg/r until Sal with the glitzy. big personality space.

30 Nlll‘. Her light and text installation works

The ballroom at the Assembly Rooms is a grand affair: vast chandeliers hang from circles of elaborate plasterwork and the walls are done

with the grandeur. A projector throws the words ‘Life is either a daring adventure or it is nothing‘ onto the curved ceiling of an alcove.

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Elizabeth Pardoe’s chandelier and text installation

Continuously circling the alcove. the words appear against a shower of tiny white blobs of light reflected from a chandelicr's crystal; while from a carousel set on the parquet floor and projected on to the main ceiling through a series of mirrors, are blurred splashes of colour and occasional text. Like a shifting drearnscape. Pardoe‘s installation hints at empty. real-life angst and sends it spinning.

In the more architecturally restrained foyer stands Richard Yec‘s monument to consumerism. Stapled to a large board are hundreds ofcash receipts from the tills of stores ranging from Versace to Scotrnid. which were given to Yee by members of the public. And it‘s intriguing. Just as one whiles away time in the checkout queue eyeing up the contents of other shopper's baskets. forming opinions of their eating habits and lifestyle. Yee’s receipts tempt a narrative. ()ne hopes the person who bought Benylin and Lucozade from Boots is feeling better and l was curious for more on the person who bought The Best 0/ Chet Baker from Fopp. (Susanna Beaumont)


lnverieith llouse, Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh until Sun 5 Jan. With an eye on marketing, a wink at nationalism and three nods to local artists, Absolut, the purveyors of vodka, have moved in on Scotland with Absolut Blue And White. Eager to spread word of the Swedish beverage, this art-cum-ad show takes in work trom the Absolut art collection plus new work by three Scottish-based artists.

Absolut made their tirst foray into art back in 1984 when Warhol an absolute gift to soup manutacturer Campbells - turned his hand to painting an Absolut bottle. Purchased by Absolut for an undisclosed sum, it heralded the beginning of the collection, which now stands at around 600 works, with the stipulation that the bottle has to appear in each piece commissioned. So here we get Warhol’s outsize and primary-coloured bottle with Peter Blake - ever the hon viveur - imbibing some of the liquor; plus Absolut interpretations from Ed Buscha and Keith Haring. Local hero Douglas Gordon’s work was billed to appear, but has been withdrawn due to damage.

Three Scottish newcomers also get to show their Absolut work, plus other non-ad works. David Shrigley shows bite-size comic-like sketches. Touched by schoolboy humour, they tease out a smirk and hint at something deeper. llis foodie- installation God shows a bearded lace atop a pile of cornllakes. And perhaps with the recent increase in Cod-talk, plastic Gods could soon appear in cereal packets on the kitchen table.

Catriona Crant’s black and white photographs are stunningly good. A gentle musing on face and features, they have a pensive quality, suggesting a sense of foreboding. The last in this trio is Cary Bough, who’s got splendid legs. Dressed in drag, he is photographed against Buscha’s picture of an Absolut bottle. It’s smart, and he looks sassy. Dther works include a series at photographs showing him approaching and kissing Copenhagen’s bronze waterside statue The Mermaid. lle definitely plays well to the camera. (Susanna Beaumont)

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Glasgow artist David Shrigley’s ode to the Absolut Vodka bottle


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55 The List 2‘) Nov- I 2 Dec l996