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ArtsEventsProse

Photobomb at Corner Gallery: a prose review

The gallery had been closed and the windows were smudged.

BY Mathew Bell.

Slain by significant winds, unwanted rain and cold weather,

I pulled my hands out of their pockets and warmed them with tension.

I lowered my hoodie, postured up and then entered,

the Little Wing Corner Gallery on the 1st of September.

 

This local space in Subiaco had been distant for months,

the gallery was closed and the windows were smudged.

The place was for rent and the doors were locked up,

but an event had arisen and to go was a must.

 

Five artists, five prints were the promises promoted,

and three local bands would provoke people’s motive.

 

The event started with a warm greeting by a lady permitting.

Entrance was $10, I paid my admittance.

Stamped with acceptance and given a token of democracy,

I explored the garage, now a space for philosophy.

In the neighboring room sat a stage for the music,

though the real show had begun by the artists of choosing.

 

The artists painted live with two hours to contest,

Incorporating photographer’s prints as their canvas.

I was excited to see this- what a great concept-

still, I wasn’t quite sure, I had to be positive.

 

 

Shrugging off this interaction, I silently watched

as the individual artists performed on the spot.

Each medium, a landscape and the painters were confident,

easing in and crouching, engaged in development.

 

Liam Dee formed two sausages, relaxing on the rocks in a sunset,

shaded by the shadows, the image was well backlit.

A tiny cartoon stubby, held in the hand of the silhouette,

and the mates had snagged a man, diving off a cliff.

I found this idea entertaining and the iconic Aussie afternoon,

twisted the cap off my perspective and cooked what I consumed.

 

Brenton See started with a landscape and formed it into a portrait,

his desert scene can now be seen as an elegant artwork.

He gridded up the portions of an enthusiastic artist,

then followed through with function, layering tone and enjoyment.

The final piece is cool, effective through its satire,

an elephant never forgets art history, a prospect I admire.

 

I met a friendly couple,

was bought a local beer and returned the respect,

then humbled between the horde of people,

to find out what was next.

 

The Design Skeleton began with a room expressing contrast,

she decided to stencil her cartoon of a girl inspecting Lovecraft.

The comic over photography reminded me of Studio Ghibli’s animation,

brought together with a simplified Del Kathryn Barton illustration.

Natasha Lea’s image comes to life with colour and composition,

I was compelled to appreciate this artist’s talented interpretation.

 

Katie Mate started off with nervous intentions,

her geometric shapes littered the ocean’s progression.

With a high contrast harmony, Katie explored her view,

yet lacked depth in this tide, swimming with what she knew.

 

My focus bounced between each artist, the room was filling up,

people leaned over shoulders, to drop votes in creative’s cups.

It rattled for a moment, I could barely hear the band,

I stood up on my tippy toes and overlooked the sea of heads.

 

Smij had left his mark, perched on That Wanaka Tree,

a simple Google search will reveal ironic history.

His scale was indeed a smidge, intricately balanced,

A creature torn from pure thought, well supported by the elements.

Little touches here and there, Smij would dab his figure,

The tints and shades of his character’s greys developed the familiar.

 

Each photographer brilliant, an artwork on their own,

they were well designed with subject and pattern.

Others, contrasting light, composition and action.

Seeing how the artists collaborated,

shined a perspective on the attraction.

 

It was great to see this gallery packed and full of youth,

even though my social interactions could improve.

The space was roaring with conversations,

fulfilling this space with purpose.

And observing these artists progress,

was absolutely, worth it.

When it was time to leave I dodged and weaved,

through the groups of rowdy viewers.

I made it to the front to notice a bunch of more live art pursuers,

they were waiting in line, barely making time,

to witness this contemporary event.

I postured up, dropped my vote in a cup,

popped my hoodie over my head.

Polished off my local bottle of beer,

and prepared for the walk home, impressed.

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