Small, organic wooden sculptures.
Mel Kendrick’s studio has always been filled with tools. The place feels like an extension of his brain and body, a labyrinth of identity projection and maintenance where thought occurs through the manipulation of inert material rather than the coursing circuits of neurotransmission.
Why do we keep looking for vitality in objects? Inert matter is over there, we’re here; we’re alive, it’s not. But collisions do happen and sparks fly.
Recognition as a visual artist—or, as he prefers, “a maker of things”—came late to Stanley Greaves. Until 1994 he was little known outside Guyana, where he was born in 1934, and Barbados, where he moved to live in 1987.
Mel Kendrick’s wooden sculptures record the history of their own making. Wood has a history inherent in its markings. So too, his work scribbles the process of its being. Cuts are marks, and shapes are cut-out and glued (somewhere else) in a wildly primitive and aggressively peculiar physicality. “The whole process is constantly reinventing itself … a composite of awkward moments …” The awkward moment between indecision and acceptance becomes, in the end, simultaneously their history and their present, a riotous balancing act.
Two works by Jene Highstein—one bone black pigment drawing on rag paper and one sculpture of carved elm.
Two sculptures, Bronze/Poplar Burnout and Black and White Bronze with Holes by Mel Kendrick