Nayan Patel and Taylor J. Wagstaff, Blowout
Blowout
Nayan Patel and Taylor J. Wagstaff
Envy6011
Level 2, 22 Garrett Street
Te Aro
Wellington 6011
Aotearoa (New Zealand)
29 April – 28 May 2022
Sickness Unto Death [a song by Emmanuelle]
It’s a shame
That I couldn’t keep that shit to myself Gotta hold myself back from fading away
Babe I’m scared
I’m not sure what’s going on in your head Cos you been living in a day that’s not been Gotta hold myself back from fading away
And all these stars that we meet, they’re fading away So I’ll just go to this party to laugh through my shame And all the stars that we meet, they’re fading away Yeah, yeah
It’s a shame
That I couldn’t keep that shit to myself Gotta hold myself back from fading away
I’m so stupid
I really thought I’d burrowed into your head But you’ve been living in a day that’s not been I push and pull still I feel I’m fading away
And all these stars that we meet, they’re fading away So I’ll just go to this party to laugh through my shame And all the stars that we meet, they’re fading away Yeah, yeah
— Emmanuelle
Reimagined shop sale signs hang sparkling in glitter, shopping bags stand in for canvases and semi realistic paintings of a tattooed arm all act as cultural signifiers to question authenticity, trends and meaning.
A star, once a symbol reminiscent of divine guidance and hope, now sits hollowed-out and permanently etched onto the canvas/skin. The work on the wall initially says image more than it does painting. Different elements of the appropriated tattoo photo are more certain than others, whilst the warped perspective (adjusted to fit) eeks out an uncanny tone. We are reminded of our own shit tattoos, our own attempts at identity, ink that slowly fades into skin, softening and blurring the once defined edges.
All must go! A humbling reminder of a shop front once stuffed with anxious ambition now succumbed to fast fashion and chain store brutality. An old bow sits hardened and crystallised. Like retail stores that come and go, so do artists and galleries - often only images remain, lost deep within the world wide web, emerging sporadically to be reblogged on Tumblr. All must go! And what if it doesn’t?
Dust appears to have turned into glitter, a signal for hope? One last push to be remembered/identified? The muscular arm acting as a metaphor for strength and pushing through/holding on, blowing out over four canvas panels. Will they last? Only time will tell...
Envy6011, 29 APRIL – 28 MAY 2022