SIMON GROUVENEUR

Simon Grouveneur’s paintings are ciphers. Dense labyrinths of mythological symbolism, they are heavily encoded visual matrices of numbers, patterns, colors, and icons. Throughout his life he obsessively examined structures of philosophy, linguistics and mysticism and built a personal language and grammar of symbols, using his paintings to seek a truth and express complex ideas in aesthetic and balanced beauty. As obsessive as he was in his search for knowledge, he was more so in the process of creating the works. He created his paints by hand and spent months on each small canvas, working with an exacting and rigorous precision that left nothing to chance and no drop out of place. “Art is not to please or entertain”, he said, “art is to tell truth, not because artists are the only truth tellers but because art is the right media to tell truth.”

GEORGE TOOKER

Tooker told stories of anxiety. He became, and remains, known for paintings of claustrophobic urbanity, cubicled domestic life, and labyrinthine liminal spaces populated by the seemingly trapped city dweller. His images are often surreal, always disquieting, and filled with a profoundly modern sense of dread. Save, that is, for Meadow I. Painted in the aftermath of his mother’s death when the painter was racked with grief and loneliness, he moved his visual language out of the metropolitan and into the pastoral. The work speaks directly to Renaissance religious works, not only in the parallel he draws between himself and his mother to Joseph and Mary weeping at the crucifixion of Christ but also in the very medium itself. Using a 17th century technique of egg tempera, he painstakingly applied fast drying homemade paint over months to create a scene of misery and calm. Painting became, in this instance, a process of grieving for Tooker - a respite from his pain that existed not only in his self but in the paintings he normally produced were replaced with a meditation of rural beauty.

PAOLO VERONESE

At a wedding in Galilee, Jesus performs his first attributed miracle when he turns water into wine to satiate thirsty guests. The story appears only in the Gospel of John, but has long been held not only as an important proof of Jesus’ divinity, but also as a symbol of the Christian approval of marriage and acceptance of earthly celebration. Some fifteen hundred years later, in an era of Venetian indulges rife with feast and celebration, the great Mannerist, Renaissance painter Veronese brings the story into his contemporary world. Feasts such as the one depicted here were common in society, sumptuous displays of food that not were not just about presenting wealth, sophistication, and power, but literally passing on these qualities to the guests via food. Jesus sits at the centre of the table, surrounded by more than one hundred and thirty figures on all sides, dressed in extravagant garb of the day. A story of a humble miracle becomes indicative of a celebratory society, and brings the sacred into the profane, reminding viewers that the act of sharing food and drink is more than just community but communion.