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With just one touch: the power of gesture and embodyment in contemporary art

Contemporary art is perhaps one of the most difficult categories to define. It encompasses a broad spectrum of styles and modes of art making. Looking at three contemporary artists: Inga Fillary, Mo Stewart and Toby Raine, Jessica Agoston Cleary suggests that it is perhaps an embodied, physical practice, where the artist operates from the inside out, that is a key defining aspect of Contemporary art today.

Words by Jessica Agoston Cleary

Photography by All images courtesy of the artists

Read time 12 minutes

Artists Inga Fillary,Mo Stewart,Toby Raine

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Contemporary art need not be functional or beautiful; in fact, it often seems senseless, ugly or neurotic. It is up to the viewer to find value from contemporary art’s rupture of traditional art categories, rationalism, and aesthetic emotions. The freedom of the imagination is valorised, as is the ability to shock us out of our comfort zone, and to test what is permissible in terms of social mores.” (Gregory Minissale. Psychology in Contemporary Art: Cambridge University Press, 2013: XXIV)

“… to shock us out of our comfort zone, and to test what is permissible in terms of social mores…” What a loaded, potent sentence. It’s a sentence that many artists likely aspire to have applied to their work. To shock a viewer out of their comfort zone means your work has made an impact. It has landed and hit a nerve. It has got people thinking. It has got people feeling. It might have even got them talking. It has done more than simply adorn a wall or give colour to an interior. It matters. Contemporary artists Inga Fillary, Mo Stewart and Toby Raine are three such artists whose work ruptures traditional art categories and shocks us in uniquely distinct ways. For these three artists, the idea of shocking, of pushing beyond what is expected, beyond beige and vanilla, is not something they seek to do for shock value alone. Theirs is an art that operates firmly from the inside out, not the outside in. Quite literally, their physical bodies, combined with their lived experiences become the very material, the very stuff of and for the artwork each artist produces.

Toby Raine in his studio, surrounded by paintings in progress and tools that become an extension of his gestural marks.
Toby Raine in his studio, surrounded by paintings in progress and tools that become an extension of his gestural marks.

Arguably, all artists draw from their daily lives - all creativity must come from somewhere, from someplace after all. Often, this somewhere, this someplace, is born from encounters had along the way from A to B. The something might be as mundane as a trip to the supermarket to pick up the lemons you forgot to get yesterday, and then your favourite song comes on the radio. You reach for the volume control, turn it up, and dance. Embracing the rhythm and the emotion in the lyrics, letting them flow through you, you make a mental note of how good this moment feels. Later this remembered moment inspired by music flows through the brush and onto the canvas. The something, someplace, might be more profound, more unexpected, and therefore more memorable: like finally being given a medical diagnosis that explains so much of why you are the way you are. Or it could be a deeper fascination with the fragility of our bodies as they go through their natural cycles as biological organisms. A process we are all aware of on some level, but perhaps not aware of enough to consider this physical matter, interrogate our relationship with it, and transform it into art. 

It is the ability to take these moments, these incidents ranging from the common to the profound, and through the alchemy of creativity and materials preserve them as an artwork which communicates the universality of the personal that separates truly good art from regular art. It is this ability that defines an artist as an artist, rather than just a painter or maker. 

Perhaps the most shocking of these three artists who meld body and mind into their work is Inga Fillary. Hers is powerful, raw, take no prisoners artwork. Evoking visceral reactions from viewers, Fillary’s objective is to take you with her on a sensory, emotional, and maybe even physical rollercoaster. Initially it is impossible not to be repulsed: she’s used what? Blood? Bacteria? It is this intense unease and discomfort which – if you let yourself feel it, cognitively process it, and then move past it – allows you to experience thoughts and sensations you don’t often get to come so close to. We’re usually in too much of a hurry to get to work, feed the kids, (or get to the supermarket for those lemons) to really consider the subjects of decay and degradation that Fillary wants us to contemplate. 

Inga Fillary, 'Symonds Street', 2019. Clay, soil, acrylic and plaster on canvas.
Inga Fillary, 'Symonds Street', 2019. Clay, soil, acrylic and plaster on canvas.
Inga Fillary, 'Petri IV', 2022. Agar, mould, soil, acrylic on canvas.
Inga Fillary, 'Petri IV', 2022. Agar, mould, soil, acrylic on canvas.

The very use of familiar, elemental, ephemeral materials held in stasis (which in essence act as a cocreator with Fillary), function as a powerful communication medium. Yes, we could dive into the biological science and chemistry involved in Fillary’s process which enables her to stabilise  blood, bacteria, and rust create works such as October, (2021), Symonds Street (2019) and Petri IV (2022). But this is not a science lesson. What is more compelling is the way the work beckons you to reach out and touch. It is impossible not to imagine what the smooth, slick surface would feel like beneath your fingertips. Is it still moist?* This is exactly the point. Working in this way, with the common every day in an unexpected and uncanny mode, a connection between the artist and the work, as well as between the artist, the work and the viewer is forged. And, in doing so, perhaps we each get closer to making sense of it all. Of overcoming the mind/body duality and connecting back to the physical; back to the natural world around us. 

Inga Fillary, 'October' 2021. Blood, latex and binder on canvas.
Inga Fillary, 'October' 2021. Blood, latex and binder on canvas.

The experience of the natural world and how we navigate physically and psychologically through life is also at the core of Mo Stewarts’ abstract monochromatic practice. Hailing from South Africa and now living in Christchurch, Stewart returned to painting once her children had reached the age where they didn’t need her quite so much. Art had always been there, in the background, but as is so often the case for so many women (Fillary included), family life took center stage. Enrolling at Whitecliffe to do her masters, Stewart’s practice took on even deeper meaning in light of her recent ADHD diagnosis. Having always struggled to focus her attention, Stewart used art as way to channel and process her thoughts. It was a mode of expression that made sense to her and helped her make sense of both her external and internal worlds. There is something to be said for knowing and naming what is ‘wrong’ with you. It gives you a certain type of power. It gives you agency and solidifies your identity. 

Mo Stewart. Installation view of works in her studio. The work on the right is 'Rush', 2021
Mo Stewart. Installation view of works in her studio. The work on the right is 'Rush', 2021

Stewart harnesses this new knowledge and uses it to her advantage to create her mesmerizingly rhythmic works. Her gestural marks, reminiscent of American artist Julian Schnabel, range from wild, spontaneous sweeps of deep black, to delicate, soft, barely there feather touches of graphite on the surface of bright white paper. You can feel the intensity of time and space flowing from brush or sponge – or even the artists own hands or feet as she is known for using her limbs as tools. You cannot help but be swept up and away in it. Rush (2021) for example, is one such soft work. Evoking a sense of flitting in and out, being always halfway out the door, we see the artists own footprints padding across the surface. Is she coming or going? She is here, but where exactly is here? The answer is up to you to decide. Ultimately, it is the delicate, masterfully controlled tonality, which is at odds with its title, together with the overt presence of the artist that gives this work - and indeed all of Stewart’s work - value. We see what we want to see, and in this life where we are always all so busy, rushing, perhaps Rush is the counterpoint to the life of an always busy, always on working mother who has carved out a few precious moments to create her art. 

Mo Stewart, 'This ain't No Disco', 2021. Graphite on Lana Aquarelle 640gsm paper.
Mo Stewart, 'This ain't No Disco', 2021. Graphite on Lana Aquarelle 640gsm paper.
Mo Stewart. 'Rush', 2021. Graphite on Lana Aquarelle 640gsm paper.
Mo Stewart. 'Rush', 2021. Graphite on Lana Aquarelle 640gsm paper.

Creating art in a moment, sometimes with only a handful of movements, to capture a moment of contemporary cultural relevance is something Toby Raine has become renowned for. A master of using oil paint applied with knives and brushes, Raine’s figurative works draw on the tradition of impasto painting. The relationship to this tradition ends there. Raine’s dynamic work moves beyond impasto to border on abstraction and defies categorization. Inspired by his musical heroes, film and tv actors, or characters who loom large in the cultural zeitgeist, as well as his true, passionate love for his wife, Raine’s figures are best described as shapeshifters. They dissolve in and out of each other, morphing seamlessly into an abstracted impasto whole. There is no figure and ground here. No beginning no end. At first glance they don’t make much sense. Indeed, without the breadcrumbs Raine gives us in his titles, some of the works could be of almost anyone. Or no one. Which is entirely part of their charm. They force you to use your senses; to dial up memories of people, places, scenes from films. They start music playing in your mind. 

 

Toby Raine, 'Rust Cohle with Torniquet, 2019. Oil on canvas.
Toby Raine, 'Rust Cohle with Torniquet, 2019. Oil on canvas.

For those familiar with ‘True Detective’ Rust Cohle with Tourniquet (2019) strikes a nerve. Even if you’re not familiar with one of the most gripping television series in recent years, the septic yellow tones and layers of paint dripping into each other, combined with the figure bound tightly with seafoam green scrapes that deepen into black strap like marks in the center of the canvas makes you feel uneasy. You sense that this figure, as abstracted as he is, is caught between the light and the dark. He is being pulled apart, unbound, in more ways than one. For Raine, the canvas acts as a repository for his emotions and his energy. The cultural pop figures as ciphers. Each work is an attempt to surprise himself; to push the limits of his own ability and see what materialises as a result of letting the physical gesture inherent in all painting be led by his other senses.

Toby Raine, 'Young Aleister Crowlew with evil shit coming out of his head' 2019. Oil on canvas.
Toby Raine, 'Young Aleister Crowlew with evil shit coming out of his head' 2019. Oil on canvas.
Toby Raine, 'Mel Gibson as Hamlet getting drunk…', 2021. Oil on canvas.
Toby Raine, 'Mel Gibson as Hamlet getting drunk…', 2021. Oil on canvas.

And so here we are. Back where we started, a place we never left. The contemporary moment of the here and now. Inhabiting our own bodies, but perhaps anew, having begun to scratch the surface of three contemporary artists whose work valorises imagination and takes us out of our comfort zone. 

 

 

 *Fillary’s work is not moist. It has been through a hardening and stabilisation process to enable it to last as an artwork, not just a science experiment.

Currently on show:

Toby Rain's show 'Iconic' is currently on show at Scott Lawrie Gallery. Viewing until 23rd July.

Inga Fillary is currently part of a group show, 'The Confessions' at Silo6 in Tāmaki Makaura Auckland. Opening 10th July - 23rd July.