Woodsy Bransfield at Second Act Gallery
There is always a great deal of chatter (or even, dare I say, discourse) around how art has the power to change lives, embolden people to take up creative space, etc., etc., but there is a less favourable topic of the way in which the art world is perceived by people outside of its often exclusive, incestuous bubble. How one might experience it is largely shaped by class. Straddling a working-class background and a relatively middle-(ish!) class higher education experience, fuelled by dreams of social mobility, it can be easy to fall in the trap of feeling like an imposter in both classed spaces. Rising above one's station on one side, and feeling somehow culturally ill-equipped on the other.
The truth is, we don’t need more voices in contemporary art who are exactly like those who have come before. I have the greatest of respect for people with passions for art history, art, and (er) history, but there is such a wealth of diversity (in all senses of the word) on the contemporary art stage, so why address it the same way as we always have? I want to hear what real people think about contemporary art and how it makes them feel. Did an Edvard Munch painting make you cry? I’d love to hear all about it, and feel all the feelings with you. If you want to tell me that you think Anish Kapoor’s ArcelorMittal Orbit sculpture in Stratford is shit, I mean it when I say, I am ALL EARS!
Up to the mid-2010s and long before, London was filled with independent art spaces, many of which were not-for-profit and artist-led, with radical ideas brimming from the walls. The sort of places that could be found in unused car garages, disused warehouses for only a week at a time, or above a pub. Although it wasn’t so long ago, social and economic factors have rendered these types of galleries largely unfeasible, with space in the city at an unattainable premium. In hindsight, this was a largely working class experience of viewing art, and also feels like it will have its place in local queer history. It feels absurd to get misty-eyed about the recent past, as that was also socioeconomically terrible for different reasons (we are now always in austerity times, after all), but any time a space looks like it is following this path, I feel a magnetic pull towards it. I don’t want it to escape my grasp.
Discovering Second Act Gallery, then, was a meaningful experience. Located inside Sunbury Workshops, in the residential part of Shoreditch, the gallery's ethos is to elevate the work of artists who are either working in the North of England or with working-class roots. I had seen the work of artist Woodsy Bransfield before, but there seemed to be a synergy with the values of the gallery that really made his solo exhibition, Pearl Clutchers, come to life.
The space itself is quite small, but plenty of room for the loquacious sculptural and mixed media pieces to breathe and share a story or two. Pearl Clutchers is like a vault: future archaeological. Small signs of what we are, and what we were. It’s the readymade for an austerity generation; a pastel pink puffer jacket hangs down one side of the main wall of the gallery, also vaguely resembling a sleeping bag: A sign of the housing crisis? Bransfield's playful and incredibly satisfying melée of playful, silly aesthetics and pop culture is punctuated by reminders of the political underbelly we find ourselves steered by. Suella Braverman, Theresa May, and Rudy Giuliani (the utterly fever-dream moment of the world watching his hair dye stream down his face during a press conference in November 2020) are all taped down, passport-sized photos, reminding us of their punitive policies on people with the “wrong” passports. Escaping violence, but perhaps not the polite, mandated way. In this small gesture, we are reminded that the working-class project is so indelibly aligned with the struggle of our queer, homeless, and refugee siblings around the world.
PVC clothing is a major part of this body of work too, with Hoping Pants draped in the top left corner of the space, complementing the puffer jacket sculpture draped next to an electric guitar emblazoned with a sticker simply stating ‘Populism’, as if it's the next biggest teen craze. Simplicity is at the forefront here, with a little wink and a nudge to push the imagination further into critical thought.
I’m excited to see what future programming might look like for Second Act Gallery. Having identity and a sense of shared struggle (and success) as its ethical foundation but not as a contrived driver in their respective artists' work is admirable. There is a real sense of creative freedom with Bransfield able to express his identity on his own terms, with the backing of a gallery that holds him and the viewer in their individuality and their potential. Everyone is an artist, and everyone is an audience. There is hope outside of the systems and conditions that we’re used to, and I hope to meet you all there in the futures of our wildest dreams.
