Wall I was a film I made 3 years ago (biggest project I’ve ever undertaken, so far….).
It was long mediated over the fact that once I had the time to make it, it would be scripted to songs, something I’d stopped doing years before. With the help of my friend Lee Garforth (formerly of the band Aztec Doll) we put together twelve tracks.
After years of not wanting to separate them out, I’ve uploaded them separately. Although here is collated into the correct order. Cheers.
This character became an avatar that I would embody to work through societal trauma with my own experiences implicated at the centre.
He (it) began its life in a drawing from 2017, called Dead Ethics Hysteria. And then reappeared as one of the ‘6 horsemen for a bad memory for tomorrow’, in brown prohibition paper bags, addictions to unhappiness, that I symbolically wished to exorcise in the emotion-voting election #GE18.https://johnledger1984.wordpress.com/2018/06/15/ge18-the-general-election-of-governing-emotions/
The character is made up of two specific ‘horrors’ that I felt define England; the plague doctor mask that is associated with perhaps an era where England made a significant break with it’s medieval past; the 17th century, the civil war, the great plague, and great fire of London. These traumatic breaks were coupled with the chancellor’s ‘budget box’; a symbol of the silent horror of what Mark Fisher called ‘capitalist realism’, an ongoing ‘reality management’ by the powers that be, to convince us that capitalist drudgery/misery is everlasting.
Why is it specifically English, the trauma? Well, without even going into the impoverishment and immiserisation agenda the Tories have pursued for the last twelve years, English misery is specific: on the surface we have nice housing estates, Ikeas and craft ale pubs to visit; but as Mark Fisher and David Graeber explained, nowhere has the erasure of the idea of class power and ‘the exorcising of the “spectre of a world which could be free“‘ (Fisher quoting Marcuse in Acid Communism) been as thorough a process as here.
Fisher called England under ‘capitalist realism’ the most depressed place to have ever existed. If you’re reading that and taking personally, try asking yourself some of the questions Keir Milburn used in his Acid Communism workshops: such as “when was the last time you felt truly free from work?’, or ‘when was the last time you weren’t worrying about work, paying bills?’
Our misery isn’t because we are the poorest, more oppressed of people (of course we aren’t), it’s because of how successful ‘the exorcising of “the spectre of a world which could be free“‘ has been here, at least since the Miners’ Strike onwards. This is reflected in our inability to imagine The New, which has made our culturally peculiarly senile in recent years (I’m looking at you: Jubilee – there was a time when it seemed inevitable that we’d abandon our monarchy).
I’m not accidentally calling it English, forgetting English isn’t Britain. This is an English horror story, one that has spread not only around the island, but around the world. The spectre, bereft on any better name to name it, was designed to be a personification of this.
The character featured as a ghostly presence, a reassertion of trauma-informed thinking, in the semi fictional, semi-autobiography, pop odyssey Wall I https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3oTUtxFlHkc&t=573s
However ‘the spectre’ came into it’s own these 3 ‘situational spoken word’ videos I made during the height of the lockdowns, playing on the heightened sense of claustrophobia, anxiety, and disorientation, and the hangover from the defeat of Corbyn to Johnson (Are Tory voters are never happy, even when they win? It sometimes seems that it’s seeing others lose that matters). The videos had a concerned eye on what I’m starting to call ‘back to normal-ism’; an era that seems blind to the fact that time as we know it, momentarily melted, and that we are in fact inside its hardened melt right now.
The works remind me of personally difficult times. The result of the inner arguments after trying to teach myself ‘not to get political’, a fear of pushing people away or being ostracised in employment. But equally politics is something we can do by many other means other than simply pointing out who we like and who we don’t, shouting and swearing (which I do a lot of in these videos), and from now on, my spirits have lifted, and I’m looking towards the 2020s with a commitment to rebuilding my inner optimism, and will to keep going.
If you can tolerate my broken sentences, I’ve made an off the cuff walk through video of the exhibition.
From what began as a good opportunity to exhibit at a decent gallery in the region, A Radical Redemption became a meticulously obsessed-over project. Having had to initially cancel, when things got a little too much, I got a new opportunity for the exhibition to go ahead in the May 2022.
I’ve been producing work and exhibiting work (more intermittently) since 2007. I returned to study fine art at Masters level in the late 2010s, in need of a much-needed boost, and graduated 3 months before our collective continuity was brought into crisis by the pandemic.
However, the past two years have been incredibly productive, developing some of my most critical work, although always trying to interrogate the Zeitgeist, increasingly more introspective in its interrogations.
A Radical Redemption came along not so much as an idea, but as a need, to interrogate the friction between the pervasive idea of free will VS the idea of causality, specifically in relation to guilt, shame, toxic masculinity and possible privileges, specifically from the vantage of the “lived in”; from the vantage of somebody who has long term mental health battles, and has and does sometimes act in ways that are potentially indirectly harmful to others as well as himself.
Why? Well to begin with, if I was to be asked how to describe collective human behaviour in our current moment I would say that it is like we have approached the last ten years, enabled/encouraged by social media to point the finger at others, who we see as responsible for things. Without knowing it, we are behaving as if the fate of global society is already doomed, and we are in a chaotic show trial, finger pointing at those who we see are to blame; a logical conclusion in a sense for a world in despair. Not to suggest that some agents of contemporary society do not have more complicity in the situation than others, but is this not the outcome of the slow erosion of collective responsibility due to decades of neoliberalism?
Am I guilty? Well, I wouldn’t have taken on this exhibition on such an introspective level if I didn’t feel guilt and complicity in the production of the ghosts that haunt today’s grievances.
I guess this felt too much at one point and this is why I felt the need to initially cancel, not least for the fact some of the work was trying to take the idea of redemption to its logical limits, namely by creating newspaper criminal mugshots of myself, committing crimes. Some of these crimes where more understandable than others, others monstrous in the eyes of society.
What it did bring home was how deeply I am effected by an internal interrogation of my actions, caught between the two pillars of Free Will and Causality.
Of course Free Will is the most pervasive of notions. Not only does neoliberal society double down on the idea that we are all self-interested rational agents of our own destiny, but even in pre-Modern societies when crime could be seen as an external evil that had taken over a tragic subject, the individual would nonetheless be made to feel punishment, even if that punishment was to rid the evil from the body, as opposed to purely blaming the individual for their own poor choices.
Over almost fifteen years of exhibiting I have been known mostly for the large scale drawings I have created. Initially mainly in biro, and initially formal critiques of capitalism and climate chaos, what I have realised in their development throughout the years is their persistent interrogation of this friction between free will and causality. In my own constant battle to grasp autonomy from the ‘Tides of Society’, the name of my first Sheffield-based exhibition, in 2010.
The exhibition revolves around a central installation, a “inverted panopticon” suggested by my close friend, and fellow member of The Retro Bar at the End of the Universe, John Wright, who helped curate the exhibition.
We collectivised a body of drawings into a panopticonal installation, revolving around a quite familiar thing in the art world; an unmade bed. Over the past years, I have not only started to recognise elements of toxic masculinity, carried residually from a cultural different past into a living, breathing present, but I also recognised similarities in my life experiences with what is called Incel Culture (men who “can’t get laid, or get successful jobs, but yet associate themselves with that idea of masculinity, and respond to this by creating a toxic culture of often violent hatred to women and themselves). The unmade bed felt like it was no longer Emin’s but my own, a ‘lived in’ bed for my own mental health in 30’s adult hood, my addictive behaviors disrupting functional life, as my own toxic masculinity rising to the surface, laying into me for “failing” to self actualise, whilst encouraging harmful behaviours to continue.
Self Criticism.
A pervasive aspect of my particular mental health issues relates to a pervasive self-criticism, where even often encouraging and helpful voices, ones that encourage one to take leadership of their life for their own well-being, end up being turned into sneering inner critics themselves. This is perhaps the most pervasive reason as to why the work and life I pursue have remained perhaps in a semi-quagmire for my entire adult life, and this exhibition felt like the right space to talk more about this.
Felt like I had to be as honest as could to open the debate up on all the other issues the exhibition looks into.
The internal panopticon thus culminates in a film called ‘I’m sorry for what I’ve done’, a film that tries to look at toxic masculinity, addiction and self destructive from the vantage of a fragmented, critical self. Specifically connecting the fears we have of ‘being left’ behind; the film is haunted by 90s and 00’s culture, a time where things that then seemed normally, seem disturbing under the present-day spotlight.
Politics and the Other.
Despite the intense introspective elements, my work is always trying find new ways of interrogating the present and trying and usually failing to find new ways of thinking about our society collectively.
The internal panopticon is enclosed, yet, it reaches out to a collective work, a call out I made last year for people to speak honestly and anonymously about their private guilts/shames in relation to their hopes/desires. These parts of the show became an audio work that was visible but not accessible.
The final drawing in the panopticon ‘A New Spring has sprung’, produced within a wave of relief and optimism at the start of spring 2020, faces the opposite way, looking out. Not blindly optimised, but wagering on the idea that inspite of impulsive self destructivity of the self and on a societal level, there is always a chance things will play out differently, and not destructively.
Thank you if you have read this far, and apologies for the typos – essay writing on a smart phone doesn’t come easy to me.
Finally thank you to everyone who contributed to the exhibition content, mostly anonymously.
A Radical Redemption runs until Saturday 28th May. It is open 12-6.
@Bloc Projects , Eyre Lane, Sheffield
I’m really glad to say that my ‘A Radical Redemption’ at Bloc Projects, Sheffield, a show I felt I had to cancel in January, is happening again; now with the dates 21 – 28 May.
Thanks so much to everybody who participated to some of the earlier stages of this project, I’m pleased to say that these are still parts of the upcoming exhibition. And definitely to Jordan Blake and to the curatorial support within the Retro Bar at the End of the Universe.
Although it frustrates me to put any disclaimer warning before anything I do, Admittedly, the exhibition is probably the heaviest show I’ve ever worked on, or at least it feels that way. For that reason it may not be suitable for everyone.
Thanks a lot
‘All those promises…’ (2022, mixed media on paper).
This is the most recent work that will feature in my upcoming exhibition, more details of which coming up shortly.
Thanks.
“please forgive my 3am naivety” (2022 mix of analogue and digital media).
I’m aware that even the attempt to make work of this far more direct nature makes it susceptible to the trap of representing a ‘protest aesthetic’ and thus potentially condemned to stylised impotency. I’m aware that making work like this makes ME look naff as.But I thought, fxxk it, it’s worth it for the purpose of earnesty. Earnesty to those 3am conjunctions, where cold sweats of terror find an uncompromising idealism about how things could be. So, I’m selling 10 of these as signed A3 posters for 25 pounds, with all proceeds going to the campaign for nuclear disarmament, Committed to the disarming of nuclear weapons.
First off I’ll start with a bit of good news; the exhibition I felt I had to cancel at the beginning of the year, is now back on, and scheduled for the coming months (I will post exact date).
I tend to throw the kitchen sink (metaphorically speaking) at exhibitions. This is because even though my art is my life, and the post-production is a mere tip of the ice berg of the planning I put in, it just does not resemble a ‘practice’, nor does my concerns resemble ‘research’. I call it ‘my art’, because to call at practice would confuse the word ‘dedication’ with ‘professional approach’.
For a start, I make no bones about being somebody who lives with, and makes through, mental health struggles. ‘Mental health’, and any specifications of ‘mental health’ are not a ‘field of research’; my work is a ‘lived in’ work. And I’m sorry if your response is “well, aren’t all artists doing this?” well, it doesn’t feel like it.
I didn’t choose to be an artist. It chose me. Because I couldn’t find anyway of being, of manifesting into adulthood, the normal rites of passage seemed cut off and alien. And as I began to struggle with eating disorders and other anxieties provoked by a extreme wish to negate a world I couldn’t find a footing in, art gave me another option; a third way, almost.
Art became the way I recognised and valued myself, it became the crutch upon which I would try and fail to make myself appear romantically appealing. It was the shield I violently defended myself with when the world came knocking, asking what the hell I was doing with my life.
What it has never been is a positive projection of what I want to be. It was, and still is, a ‘fuck you’ to a world that I increasingly began to feel criticised by as I reached my 30s, and still couldn’t provide an answer to, when a suggestion to do something became the growl of “don’t just stand there! do something!”.
It’s not a practice, and it isn’t flexible. It’s a protest, yes, and sometimes this can align with the larger social political critiques that I almost nearly always agree with, but it goes little further.
It’s a problem. Serious one to be honest. The problem’s core began to unearth itself a few years back, when I finally realised why an intentionally warmed utterance “just be yourself!” grated on me to the point that it if an associate said it to me, it would burn me for days/weeks after.
And that’s because I have no self that I can identify. All I can identify is voices mimicking others; be it caring family members, friends or potential social media trollers. They are always critical, but they have gotten louder over the past few years, as I reach middle age, and as an ability to ‘change’ has become a harder task. suggestions like ‘changing’, ‘taking responsibility’ or ‘doing something that makes you feel better’ even, are hard suggestions to take on, because it never feels like it’s coming from any sense of personal volition, more than a inner critic, who’s telling you off.
Prior to first cancelling the aforementioned exhibition, they had hit their worst point. And at their worst, they help create such a bad picture of myself, that I start to act out that picture. And that’s when things crash to a full stop. When the destructiveness starts to severe trust and friendship there’s a serious problem.
It must be added here, that what I’m describing is far more like a inner monologue in a state of panic, rather than schizophrenia; the latter being a type of psychosis. Which this isn’t.
But I wanted to share my video work, that I began working on this time last year, during the ending month of the second full lockdown. It was a fucking exhausting process, as often, the more you pick up on the inner monologue’s content, the more it can hence forth make itself audible all the time. But I think it’s one of my best works.
Thanks
John
I’ve printed a new limited edition map book print. There are 9 of ten of ‘HIPSTER PSYCHOSIS (2021)’ are available. I’m selling them for 55 pounds. I’m decide for this one to donate 75% of proceeds to local food bank trust(s), feels like the right thing to do atm. We did something similar last year, and I’d had done it again over xmas period with more folk, if I’d had my act together. But anyways.
You can message me if interested.
Thanks.
kept a low profile of late, began working on a series of smaller drawings, that became a project about ‘burnout’. It’s a word that’s more and more frequently used these days, it’s a word I’ve used recently about myself, and it relates to so many things such as the body, mental and emotional exhaustion, trying to keep up with machine rhythms. But also exhaustion of imagination, imagining things being different.
Works in order:
1. ‘Exhausted’.
2. ‘It’s easier to imagine being a billionaire on another planet…t’
3. ‘Being enmeshed in the world…’
4. ‘Image for the work of a Sheffield poet’
John B Ledger