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From: Whilhiem Pakker Category: Art Date: 07 February 2007 Time: 03:47 PM Review: The Candid Arts Trust Galleries stand tucked away behind the Angel Tube Station off Londons post industrial dreamland of the Pentonville nightmare road, reminiscent of a wackyraces plot my ordeal in getting to the Angel tube was somewhat soothed in this peculiar little backwater; Torrens Street. I have been to Candid Galleries but frankly I had forgotten the experience, now a habitat for of the emerging, perhaps the perpetually emerging artist. On this night few had emerged owing to plummeting tempretures mingling with the grim diesel fumes from the wackyrace track The loft style boho gallery is actually a damn site more refreshing than the entire empire of poncey glass paneled corporate blandness we're all supposed to have pleaded for from our generous architectural louts and yobbos who are such geniuses that they are forced to practice on the poor old Germans and the gullible Americans, I say to both...enjoy! Making my way to the casual pasting-table (not a bad euphemism for a bar) laden with three bottles of Becks and some balsamific Barolo among the thrifty little plastic cups, I relished the easy worn out feel of a real wooden floor with splinters, I had to dodge one or two slightly unorthodox hangings, you know the sort of thing, a sheet of paper with bulldog clips being suspended by clear nylon line, but I did'nt come a cropper as a result of some over glossy laminated floor or some ass actually looking at the art. Repleat with a sturdy little cup of red, I began first by staring at my reflection in the strangely delapidated window panes, I scanned the reflection because the place was so sparsely occupied I wanted to recce, look about for anyone else I knew. Particularly attractive young artists who I had promised to mention in one of my many incarnations throughout the Fiscal and Technical press. After a few gulps I went for a ciggy (outside.....sweet jesus!), got a refill....... a bit more?, had to show my card before making my way back across the gallery floor, this time I actually looked at the work on the fishing line, pencil drawings that had a strangely post psychodelic, pre psychotic infatuation, these were hanging paper panels by Evy Jokhova, a familiarity clicked, they were featured on the flyer I received along with the veiled threat if I wrote anything bad....well, I might if the heating stays low. I got a lot more from seeing the work alone , falling into the swirly quality, her work and Eleanor MacFarlane and Katherine Harvey, beautiful wire sculptures and photography, actually it was'nt Barollo, I was being served something, can I say arabesque? The thing is, good wine is wasted on the usual idiots that turn up at these bunfights, was this Jumilla, ? One thing I would say about this show is not much deriivitive or tourist crap, I,ve had bags of that old rubbish, Cork Street has been awash with the sort dross you might feel bad about wasting weak lager on for the whole of January, I dont care for Friends of the Earth moving into art, it smacks of the Labour Party getting behind pop bands and wondering why they end up pouring booze over their heads at award ceremonies.....charity begins at home and ends in tears. By now, I'm getting friendly with a couple of artists, who I remain incognito about my sub-plot, they get refills for me and leave very soon after, why? I,m looking at photography by Chooc Ly Tan, exploring the architecture of the mind, hang on a minute..thats cool. Sorry to use the C word but it is cool. I like seeing dimensions pulled, some more interesting photography from Valeria Carelio, architectural...sort of. Reminds me of a German film I saw, who was the Fitzcaraldo Man? very sensitised work. A Cornish artist, Jonathan Polkest...wait, dont yawn, it's not splashy sea waves and touristy its more Caulfield, Lichtenstien.....a bit poppy for me but its definately NOW. David Nothedges modernism holds me for a while after the Cornwall Man, I feel mellow from the last drink, could strangle a ciggy but its cold out there, actually its not baking weather in here, the crowd thins so theres no scrummage. I keep walking into those Pyschodelic Sheets of paper by Evy Jokhova,and once again my mobile is vibrating but I'm staring at a new world of Natasha Markham, beautiful surfaces with layers of tone, its working with the wine and the sort of boho ambience, nobody's selling me anything....how odd? I scribble about Charlotte Lindsey, but I think she's spotted me writing so I stop and go for another ciggy in the cold but I'm quick because they want to finish up and I meet two men and a woman at the foot of the very tall staircase and they are very interesting artists but which ones? their friends and someone tall is very interested in me, Did they know me?, whats a chap to say? Charlotte Lindsey's work is good its clear, like Johnathan Polkest, the Cornwall man, I think if you want to see some interesting work GO, and look out for Richard Batty's quirky wit, Evy Jokhova,s delicate line fusion, Janet Samson's indescribably eclectic use of colour, Eleanor MacFarlanes photography.....or, not? , Chooc Iy Tan's library of gauzes and words, Katherine Harvey? YES definately, David Nothedge ? probably, Jonathan Polkest? yes, in fact if you want the Opposite of Winter you'll find it, probably at Candid Trust Gallery, 3 Torrens Street, next to the Angel tube. Every time a bell rings......I'm definately going to have another look at that gallery just convince myself its not a sort of film set .W.Pakker