Waves after waves of modern tedia crash onto the vast burning sand dunes of nullified boredom. All stretching across the frozen coast line of the yawn of the new. For me, a red brick sea wall has been stoically built to block out these resounding waves of the sterile blank modernity. Alienated art for tedious moderne personalities, the two enmesh.
Modern culture for me, is so much landfill trying to block out the vastness of the universe. The type of dross that creates constant clutter, is instantly jettisoned. This sparkling gem, shows however there are hidden lights twinkling with hidden awe, glittering amonst this morass that piles up high in modern lives.
The book resonates with imagination, a rare quality in modernity, as it is also harnessed to craftsmanship. Most modern art requires little of the latter. Grayson's life pattern has intersect points, chiefly going to Chancellor Hall and the Rock Club at the Chelmsford football ground in the late 70's. Being held in thrall by Siouxsie, Adam, Pauline, Poly, Ari and everyone else who made the decade so compelling. Out of this mix, documenting his life, Grayson produces echoes of an emotional world that has faded. This stands opposed to the alienated impersonation that surrounds most neu kunst. It lays silently undisturbed, under layers of the accumulated tedia of living in the now. This is encased in the bland sterile culture of manners that propels the real world into a fake sublime pastiche. His objects are wrought from a finely tuned imagination, that opens the doors between 'the world that could be' and 'the world that has been constructed in its stead.
His vases are works of art, beaming on several levels of conceptualisation. They resonate as beautiful objects in themselves, and as things that say something about the world we inhabit. He has distilled a world to its basics, then projects it back to the viewer as a critique. Strangely he sees more of the emotional reality than most therapists. His art lies beyond good and evil, incorporating by default Adler, Frankl, Otto Gross, Fenichel, Rogers along with Nietzsche, Marx and Stirner. Clearly he projects himself and his vulnerabilities, portraying a masculinity that lays buried under layers of breast beating. Initially a man dressed as a woman dealing with emotions was not a great magnet pull, however if you push beyond the surface appearance then another vista unfolds. The exhibition juxtaposes the ancient world and his modern creations, allowing the objects to come alive with an acidic surrealism.
This book is a sumnation of his world. He brings it altogether through delving inside himself. He has not just created pots, but sculptures, quilts and metallic dolls that resonate, think and reflect. Fetish Dolls, metallic ships, embroided clothes, his famous vases, his imagination is vast standing next to Gross, dada, expressionists, surrealists Dix, the Chapman brothers and the best in music. His take on the world is as a kindred spirit to the cloven hooves of the pipes of pan, with a thoughtful, reflective, empathic, view of the world.
If you can afford the time then see what he has put on offer, as he slices through the veils of modernity to reveals the buried dreams.