Le Gun : New Art Annual
This month sees the launch of the fourth issue of lavishly macabre narrative art annual, Le Gun. Created in black and white by an inky-fingered collective of illustrative and writerly talents, some funnelled directly out of the RCA over-achievers’ pool, Le Gun Issue #4 should be the latest addition to the trendiest coffee tables in town.
The book’s release gained much publicity from its fantastic launch event on the 27th of August at the Rochelle School in Shoreditch, (I only found it by following the man with the glorious ginger moustache), where pockets of local artists milled around with curious laypeople. The show was made up of one tiny bar, one cardboard wonderland and one long, light stretch of exhibition space.
A nice conceit of the exhibition was the cardboard sitting room, complete with cardboard sofa, armchairs, table, lamps, books, an incredibly detailed piano (made by none other than Schlampen Pupsen of Legundon - who else?), and even cardboard flames rising out of the cardboard fireplace. The miniature cardboard door in the wall took visitors into the main exhibition space, where it no longer smelled of cardboard, and the chin-stroking could begin.
This loftier space’s main attractions were the four huge Le Gun canvases, allowing visitors to zoom in on a murky, complicated and comic universe. Although black and white are normally noted for their contribution to clarity, this was not the effect achieved here; indeed, guests were greeted by a roiling mass of human and animal bodies, natural and man-made structures, and fantastical scenarios. Presented as a ‘story of stories’, the canvases were a real metafictionist’s delight, with so much overlap it was impossible to take everything in. The collation of so much illustrative detail in one rolling space brings to mind Alice’s Wonderland, Death in Venice and its sinister beach scenes, Yellow Submarine’s kinetic world of blue meanies and black holes, Edward Gorey’s melancholy sketches and just about every fairytale, old and new, that you could think of. The four canvases follow the Candidesque journey of a bizarre, dysfunctional family as they travel from the murky metropolis of Legundon into wilder, and yet more menacing landscapes.
Although the initial effect, with its Legundon setting and numerous references to gin, pies and prostitutes, appears to guide towards a 19th-century Jack the Ripper-like backdrop, the insertion of many other touches bring the onlooker much closer to the present. A member of the walking dead shuffles along the foreground urged on by a leashed dog; a cone bra fit for Madonna in her Blonde Ambition heyday can be spied on a local resident; Canary Wharf’s skyline rises incongruously behind a raggedy, Dickensian-style street. On top of that, you’ve got pyramids, dense woodland, city and seascapes, plus a cast of comical caricatures peeking from each window, alley, branch and deckchair, in the shape of both man and beast. And let’s not forget the miniature public notices stuck to every surface, which add much of the comedy.
The exhibition is over, but it’s served its purpose and brought Legundon closer to London. All of the above is a taster of what lies within the pages of Le Gun Issue #4, so if you like the sound of that, you should probably take a look at this: www.legun.co.uk. The Le Gun art annual is currently making its way into discerning bookshops and galleries. There’s a good chance you’ll like it.
