John Hurrell – 23 November, 2010

Andrew McLeod’s three hoardings, made from digital inkjet prints, surprise because they are not typical of his prints or his paintings: less fiddly than the former and unusually abstract and large for the latter.

They have a curious sweeping movement as if mimicking an artist’s arm that is using a squeegee. They seem like blocked-out, overlaid sectors between the hands of a clock or car dial; wobbly twisting radial lines that torque around a cental pivot; flat overlaid shapes with gaps left for other slices to peek through. Each billboard presents about half a dozen overlapping bending bands, most of them sombre and transparent variations of the letter C, or roughly hewn hemispheres.

I like these hoardings more than most of the other abstract McLeods I’ve seen so far. The hovering, thick, unfurled ribbons work well as ambiguous forms while there seems to be a sly wit behind them, as if they allude to the speed of passing traffic via speedos, radar screens, window-wipers and tyre traction on corners. The dominantly opaque red oxide cleverly alludes to the large sheds behind the fence they are attached to, effectively locking the forms physically into the Pakuranga site.

McLeod’s filmy Matissean shapes - with their scissor-snipped edges - seem navigational, as if directional aids or automobile guides for negotiating cars through the suburbs. Their associations are finely tuned to match the minds of a motorised audience that is cruising along Reeves road, yet the curved dial-connected forms are subtle and not obvious in their references. Dashboard art at its best - but on a high fence and in triple vision.

John Hurrell

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