JOSEPHINE KING AT RIFLEMAKER

Josephine King's October Riflemaker show entitled 'Life So Far' proved to be another intriguing hit for the Soho gallery. Regularly receiving over 200 visitors daily (respectable numbers for such a small space) with over 400 on the show's best day, King's work reportedly left some emotional punters in tears.

The vibrant ink paintings on paper present a series of reflections on the artist's own bi-polar condition - musings often frightening in their intensity and honesty - decoratively framing each image (below). King's utilisation of bold, occasionally contrasting block colour and two-dimensional, naive style of portraiture establishes an unexpected dichotomy with the dark, often disturbing content of the text. 

This series of paintings clearly reference Frida Kahlo primarily through the themes of illness, hospitalisation and medication, within a style of confessional self portraiture. King herself acknowledged the similarity and confessed a love of the Mexican artist in a lively discussion with Riflemaker's director (below). Framing (Kahlo's curtains to King's words) and animal motifs again create parallels between the two artists, as well as the idiosyncratic sartorial style both women adopted within their respective imagery and real lives. 

King also brought along some beautiful examples of 400 sketchbooks produced over her prolific artistic life. Much of this output documents her time spent travelling in exotic locations such as the evocative images made in India below. These paintings very successfully infuse King's unique, flat, two-dimensional style with a sense of the fluid forms, rich colours and traditional aesthetic of the subjects and atmosphere surrounding her in these inspiring far away lands.   

The artist herself was remarkably open and forthcoming about her work, happily posing for photographs and offering to email groupies hungry for further discussion of her output. She was also quite forthright about her discomfort with London's Frieze art fair being 'too conceptual', an opinion to be applauded, along with the suggestions of too commercial/corporate/mainstream/wanky etc etc. There goes my invitation to next years event. Wotevs.

ALICE ANDERSON AT RIFLEMAKER

Riflemaker was one of those galleries on my listings I'd never got around to visiting. Their shows always sounded pretty avant garde - nothing too traditional or old school. I assumed they were part of the proper East End art massive I would discover as soon as I could be arsed going beyond Liverpool St on the Central line.

So imagine my surprise (and self-loathing) to realise that not only was Riflemaker squarely in the middle of Beak St. Soho but also one of the most fascinating and original gallery spaces in London.

Set within the magical post-ironic Dickensian ambience of Riflemaker's rickety four storey hovel-turned-gallery space (a Georgian riflemaker's workshop dating from 1712), Alice Anderson's ginger hair installation was a fascinating, dream-like experience. Luckily the pretentious, long-winded catalogue notes explaining whatever the piece was meant to signify escaped me and I was able to read the exhibition at face value. Which essentially meant a ginger's revenge on her insufferable mother/nanny-figure by turning herself into a lifeless doll...sigh....The nine minute film 'The Night I Became A Doll' - despite moments of self-conscious amateurism - was a reasonably effective companion piece to the installation.

Anderson's wax or rubber 'life mask' was creepily disconcerting behind glass in the manner of a Victorian bell jar. Still, what was meant to be read into it I could only guess and though I did find each separate element of the show interesting, they seemed to lack an overall cohesion (especially the upper-level stand alone sculptures). Even without the film and mask, Anderson's work still packed a powerful punch on account of the show's grandiose centrepiece hair installation. This was the truly macabre draw-card, the visually arresting auburn explosion magnetising all manner of Saturday afternoon Beak St pedestrians into the premises. Riflemaker's lovely friendly attendant even had to concede that it was not the possibility of rain that was an issue of concern for the gallery owners, rather the possibility of Soho's shitfaced pub revellers damaging the delicate piece. Luckily, so far people have been remarkably respectful.

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