0.62m x 0.46m, Acrylic on canvas.
Artisite's resident reviewer, the eminent academic Christopher P. Bacon writes:
Firstly: monkeys, unless you are a creationist. Next, and more importantly, cones and cylinders are very much the nuts and bolts of the mentalist 'Allied Carpets'-bombing of 'Invasion'. Yet the fragility described could just as well be that of the inadequate wobbly dowelling in mass produced self-assembly Swedish coffee tables.
Not since Howard Jones asked us to 'throw off our mental chains.. woo hoo hoo!' accompanied by a bloke miming in a little cage, has the methodological individualism of the "Quick!- 'TV Quick'" mindsettee been transposed so vivid[acious]ly on to the backcloth and bashes of the shite-geist. War torn as Kate Adie's satchel, 'Invasion' (created in a loft and everything) is, like a crap Pope, the weapon of mass destruction, i.e, the work is its own false premise for the carnage embodied in its conclusion.
From the visual to the visceral (or is it just the story of the gustatory to the justificatory?) 'Invasion' takes us, the 'invaded', as a human shield, as Brooks spews out collateral death-pepper from the end of a brush with mortality. And this is no workplace paint-balling outing for people who don't really like each other. It is in fact the the furry little combat wombat (Chopper Harris,1998) within each of us, wriggling at every uncomfortable acquiescence to our own defiance of our very urge defiantly to defy.
This piece is best viewed through someone else's eyes (or at least a Groucho Marx false nose and glasses) and so not one for the gallery singleton. For this reason, bring a close ally to 'Invasion', with or without resolution from the insecurity counsel. Ideally, appreciation is optically optimalized by realizing a veridical 'crash camera' effect. This involves constructing a Stannah Stairlift horizontally, some 20-30 metres away from the picture, parking your fat arse in it and throwing it into forward/reverse rapidly for a good 5 minutes. (Dressing up as Thora Hird is entirely optional, though recommended.). The poor alternative is to view 'Invasion' bouncing on a small trampoline, whilst imagining the painting to be mounted on the ceiling.
That said, there is really nothing that can be said about this work that it does not fail not to say itself. It says things that it knows to be true without believing those things. There are known unknowns about 'Invasion', and furthermore, there are things we know now that we would un-know now if only we were knowably not enobled and enabled. There's know limits. Would that there was, would that they were.
Christopher P. Bacon is an equal opportunities self employer, and a complete bastard.