Kaleidoscopic Realms – Reviewed
“Doing better is the overarching motif of Kaleidoscopic Realms.” Mike Pinnington on a group exhibition putting learning disabled and neurodivergent artists front and centre…
Kaleidoscopic: having complex patterns of colours; multicoloured; made up of a complex mix of elements; multifaceted
Kaleidoscopic Realms, a group exhibition currently on display at Nottingham Castle, could barely be better titled; its eight artists covering a broad spectrum of materials, subject, style and medium. It includes, variously: ceramics, embroidery, pen and ink and large-scale paintings, and ranges from realism to abstraction.
The artists’ practices are united by different curatorial threads; an interest in colour, mark-making and creative exploration on the one hand while, on the other, theirs also happens to be a group made up of neurodivergent and learning disabled contemporary artists. While the latter point is, of course, of import in amplifying voices and profiles, the work on display – allowed centre-stage by the subtle yet meaningful curatorial intent (more of which later) – really sings here.
Cameron Morgan’s collection of joyful works of the everyday prize photography, and the camera as an object of pleasure in its own right. Across painting, ceramics and embroidery, Morgan presents a coherent, nostalgic and universal celebration of the medium (without including a single actual photograph), putting one in mind of the times, feelings and moments that such images, via an act that still feels like magic, capture – even if, years later, we imperfectly, subjectively, misremember the specifics.
Nearby, Richard Hunt‘s preoccupation with water, the beach and the sea finds us sat – or perhaps floating is the better term – somewhere between figuration and abstraction. In these works we find touching familial scenes as in The beach with the mummy and baby crab (2020), alongside blurry-verging-on-alien underwater worlds we’re yet to fully comprehend or classify.
From Hunt’s intricately rendered textural paintings, we are met by the maximalist statement pieces of Michelle Roberts, whose 2D pen works initially belie layers of meaning. Referencing films – including Singin’ in the Rain and The King and I – pop-culture more broadly, and personal histories, it’s easy to get lost in the map-like constructions whose surfaces buzz with activity and detail; time spent exploring these small universes and their wonders is recommended.
By contrast, James Gladwell‘s embroideries are minimal affairs, which isn’t to say nothing happens in them. With needle and thread, Gladwell intricately brings fragments of his dreams – including flora, fauna and a richly-decorated, evocative skull with horns – to life in the gallery. His Foxes Looking Through The Grass (2021) is my favourite; capturing, as it does, the red-eyed predators of the title hungrily stalking an unsuspecting pair of ducks enjoying an innocent paddle. Dreams, it seems to say, can sometimes become nightmares: much peril lurks here!
There is an array of wildlife, of a much less menacing variety, in Leslie Thompson‘s ink on paper work, Animals from Memory (2018); the black and white scene is adorned with owls, badgers, skunks, cats and more. But Thompson’s stock in trade are his wonderfully and lovingly rendered tributes to popular culture, in which we find stars of the (largely small-) screen from yesteryear. Passing through the portal of his icons of the past series is to time-travel to my own childhood via pop art depictions of The Fall Guy, The A Team and the genius of Jim Henson’s The Muppet Show. These are distillations of pure joy; in them I find the halcyon days of seemingly endless weekends spent (frequently in front of the TV) with my grandparents.
From these scenes of pop-culture days of yore, the next space is tonally very different indeed. In it, expanses of paper are covered by what we might loosely think of as abstractions; there is something of the Cy Twombly about Nnena Kalu‘s busy but never chaotic graffitied pen and graphite drawings. The multiples (they’re displayed in twos and threes) combine frantic calligraphic rhythm and flow to produce dynamic worlds of possibility in which to lose oneself. Nearby, meanwhile, bursts of texture and colour abound in Kalu’s untitled, wrapped sculptural works that could represent these worlds in 3D, or be the result of time spent in their maelstrom.
Across the way, Siddharth Gadiyar‘s spectacular explosions in paint emphasise the poetry, impact and mysteries of abstract art. At first glance, they share a kinship with the color field painters of mid-century New York, yet theirs is a visual language resolutely their own, offering glimpses into and expressions of Gadiyar’s inner life we’re otherwise not privy to.
Thompson Hall‘s pieces bring us crashing back into reality, addressing as they so vividly do, the day-to-day trials and tribulations many of us face. Living on a Breadline (2019); Universal Credit Crisis (2019); Isolation Nation (2021) – these are portraits of inequality and the late capitalist condition, works of lived experience and social conscience both. These are not, however, mere snapshots of a downbeat, downtrodden populace; they’re acknowledgements, demands rather, that leadership must do better.
And doing better is a kind of overarching motif of Kaleidoscopic Realms. It calls loudly for an evolution in the sector’s considerations of, and greater recognition for, learning disabled and neurodivergent artists. It does so most obviously here by demonstrating that the works of those included – that we might consider the tip of the iceberg – are deserving of their place on gallery walls.
No less important is its commitment to accessibility; throughout the show are films providing greater insight into the artists’ on display. Each of which is accompanied by a bench, set slightly askew, so that wheelchair users can comfortably view the screen. There are clearly labelled ‘touch’ panels, too, indicating that you can experience the texture and materials of the works. Additionally, there is audio description, recordings and BSL. Such considerations put much of what we think of as typical exhibition interpretation provision to shame, confirming that these things should be implemented as a matter of course.
All of which is to say that Kaleidoscopic Realms’ curatorial team of Jennifer Gilbert (founder of Jennifer Lauren Gallery) and Christopher Samuel, an artist whose practice is concerned with identity and disability politics, should be commended – both for bringing these eight artists’ varied outputs to a wider audience, but also the sensible, thoughtful ways in which this has been achieved.
Mike Pinnington
Kaleidoscopic Realms continues at Nottingham Castle until 3 November
Images, from top: Installation view (MJP); Cameron Morgan, ‘Happy Go Lucky’ with Polaroid of a kitty, 2024, Ceramic. Courtesy the artist and Project Ability; Michelle Roberts, Castles, 2024, Pen on canvas, 122 x 92cm. Courtesy of Project Art Works; Nnena Kalu, Drawing 72, 2023, Acrylic pen, graphite, and pen on paper, 90x170cm x 3 works. Courtesy of the artist and ActionSpace