Whistleblower Gallery is happy to exhibit Itʼs Been a Fever Dream, a new collection of original works by Laurie Vincent.
In It's Been a Fever Dream, Vincent presents a new collection of 86 introspective, humorous and poignant original drawings.
Each poetically titled piece is composed of a series of repeated symbols, forms and endearing characters which are very much part of the artist's very own language, one that he uses to tell a deeply nuanced story with hints of biographical tones.
Each vignette possesses multiple layers of detail, pattern and meaning, leaving it up to the viewer to find the interpretations that best suit their own narrative thus allowing for a deep connection with the works.
Vincent's use of black ink on white textured paper helps to emphasise the bold nature of these drawings yet it allows for the artist's hand to sporadically point to moments of ambiguity, confidence or explorative endeavours.
Accompanying this series of drawings is a self-authored zine which combines fragments of the exhibitions' works with sketches and photography from the artist's personal albums.
True to Vincent's believe that art should not be exclusively delegated to hanging on walls, and with a wink to the legendary NY art scene in the 1980's, the artist has produced a series of Limited Edition t-shirts and Limited Edition large enamel pin badges which will be made available throughout the exhibition.
All available works are available below and for viewing in the gallery.
Itʼs Been a Fever Dream, by Laurie Vincent
'To say the last three years have been a transformative time for me could be seen as an understatement.
Navigating my way through great personal trauma with the backdrop of a huge global derailment in the works... Anxiety, melancholy, anger and grief have been the day-to-day musings of seemingly the whole globe.
There is no good time to lose a loved one. However doing so through lockdowns and isolation added a depth of perspective to my own personal journey that words can only touch the edges of.
Sometimes what we witness is too hard to comprehend, too heavy.
The hope is the weight will become bearable, pocket sized - the truth is it will never disappear completely. Just when your stone is all but a grain of sand between your finger and thumb, you gaze up at the sky and an anvil drops straight on your head.
So the only truth I hold onto like a mantra is an acceptance to feel. To enjoy the highs and sit in the lows, and allow them to wash over myself.
All the feelings are real, relevant and they all belong to me. Just as the cheetah, me, sits and bares witness: How the cheetah is overwhelmed, how the cheetah is held, how the cheetah stares out into the unknown, how the cheetah turns his back, how the cheetah covers his face, how the cheetah doesnʼt know...
I am every single cheetah, and more. The birds are my penance, the physical strain on my wrist and eyes of the mass repetition.
My hands know me best. They feel, they understand what Iʼve been through. Theyʼre mine and they distribute the exact right pressure on pens, on guitar strings and on the hair of my children, down the spine of my lover. They know my burden.
I offer you these drawings as a window, striving for honest connection. I donʼt promise you anymore and I expect nothing from you. This is my journey. My eyes and heart and mind are wide open.'