John Hurrell – 8 March, 2016

Downstairs in Michael Lett’s thick walled ‘bank vault’ we have a suite of half a dozen, loosely brushed oil paintings by Celia Hempton, an English painter. Hempton is quite well known for her paintings of solo sexual activities, or unstimulated genitalia, mostly male but occasionally female, and this show is in that self-pleasuring category - made using online chat rooms where participants masturbate so others can watch. Masturbation motivated by exhibitionism (‘caressed’ by an anonymous gaze) as well as orgasmic pleasure.

Hempton’s earlier works of this nature have been more linear in paint handling, and prettier - closer to conventional drawing. The later works are akin to de Kooning or Baselitz in markmaking density, with all individual bristles on the brushes expressively used to the max - from many directions simultaneously. With wild flecky striations and runny squidges everywhere, it takes a while to figure out what’s behind the representation that structures it all: some fella whacking off.

Is such ‘figuring’ important? Perhaps not? After all, is Hempton’s generation likely to care, or even be shocked? Most would see it as a shrewd career strategy to gain attention, one that has obviously worked.

I’m not complaining though. I like these images. And I really enjoy the idea that painting can be ‘about’ anything at all. As art can. I’d add “of course” - but you might not believe me.

Perhaps painters now are openly desperate to find new subject matter, if subject matter matters. Hempton seems to be similar to Seraphine Pick and her use of online selfies (for painting) where - in Pick’s case - people are intoxicated, and happily/unhappily broadcasting that fact.

Hempton, though, is not as realistic as Pick. These are very abstract. They celebrate oil paint in an old sense. They are not innovative - apart from their humour. They are made quickly but the paint treatment has no surprises.

I wonder though if they might be better if they were realistic. Super duper realistic. Say graphically pornographic and squirting stuff everywhere. Let’s not be squeamish if we’re talking about visual style and what it does for content. For with that extreme approach there would be a sort of wit that would make the squeezing of oil paint out of its tubular containers disgusting (so self conscious), but clever too in its self referencing. An overt correlation, as a means of referring to its own image production, and which would make Duchamp look namby-pamby in his discretion.

Maybe Hempton is doing that anyway? Trouble is there is no sense of any analogy operating here that alludes to technology or metaphorical substance. It is about unusual imagery that is normally kept secret. Because of its use of raw paint it’s too polite and timid. It’s good and it’s cheeky, but as conceptual art goes it could go further.

John Hurrell

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