David Quinn
3 March to 10 April

The exhibition was opened by writer Sara Baume. Scroll down to read her speech and watch a video. 

David Quinn makes modestly sized, abstract paintings on paper, wood and more recently perspex. He has developed a large body of work to a uniform size of 8 x 5 1/2 inches which originated in notebooks he kept as a design student. He will exhibiting a new series of work for his solo show at Uillinn: West Cork Arts Centre.

"intense small works...that hover between drawing and sculpture, to share something of the aesthetic of Roger Ackling and Agnes Martin.” 
Sue Hubbard

"Each finished piece embodies a momentary, fleeting wonder that beauty can be won back from time."
Aidan Dunne

"Quinn’s darker, delicate abstracts keep calling you back till you wonder why you’re falling in love” 
Gemma Tipton. The paintings are abstract and explore the poetic possibilities of line, texture and form.

“Each painting is a unit, both unique and part of a greater whole: words in a sentence, notes in a tune, hours in a day. At first glance they appear to be simple works, minimal and understated, but look again. Focus on the edges, see the layers built up like strata in sedimentary rock. Each layer is a page, a painting that Quinn has stuck down, studied, added to and covered up.
Working on several paintings at once, Quinn considers them as markers of time. They are abstract and yet, they represent time worked and time spent in contemplation. Another definition of abstract – a summary of the contents of a book, article, or speech – is also relevant. The finished paintings are summaries of the process of their creation: concentrated forms or essences.”
Riann Coulter

David Quinn was born in Dublin in 1971 and now lives in Co. Wicklow. Recent solo exhibitions include blank (2016) Fenderesky Gallery, Belfast; seam (2015) and dunkelbunt (2014) Taylor Galleries, Dublin. Recent group shows include Small (2017) Purdy Hicks, London and Two Birds/One Stone (2016) Farmleigh, Dublin. He received the Tony O’Malley Studio Residency Award in 2015. he is working towards upcoming exhibitions in London, Navan, Dublin and Skibbereen. He is represented by Taylor Galleries, Dublin; Purdy Hicks, London and Fenderesky Gallery, Belfast.  www.davidquinn.ie

 

A Short Speech for Joanna and David

 

Whenever I am entrusted with tasks like this –

I do a bit of groundwork on the artists –

And always seem to find that they are artists of the kind who have a polite antipathy to words –

Which is at once intriguing and unnerving.

Lo! On David’s website, a quote from the poet Paul Valéry:

Anything we can define distinguishes itself instantly from the productive spirit and is opposed.

The safest way to proceed – I have found –

Is to advance upon the work as openly and curiously as possible –

To make a point of contact – to tell a story about my point of contact.

 

One gloomy evening last week, I drove into Skibbereen to meet Joanna and the installation in a partially-composed state –

And we talked about journeys –

The journey of tens of thousands of starlings – from Scandinavia and Russia, to converge upon Timoleague –

The journey of each sovereign starling within the murmuration – bespeckling the Timoleague skies in perfect synchronicity –

The journey of the installation – each felt bird which makes up each separate string – and every set of fingers – of strangers and friends, from Bray to Utah – and all the conversations which arose as fingers rolled felt – connections, confessions made –

And finally, the journey the artist wants you to take with the installation through this space – stairwell, balcony, tunnel, crescendo – paying attention to the places where it ebbs and flows, rises and falls, straggles and accumulates – converges.

 

On my journey home in the van that evening, it started to snow –

The hills and gorse and sea beyond my windscreen obscured by tiny, shapeless, listless marks –

Which somehow managed to add up to a great stillness –

Cementing my point of contact with Metamurmuration.

 

And then I was snowed in – for four days – sitting at my freezing desk – growing progressively anxious –

That I hadn’t been able to see David’s paintings in the painted flesh –

Instead I was only able to stare momentarily at electronic reproductions of objects of art that are so much about –

The poetry of their own silent physical presence –

Materiality and machinery –

The singular mass and fabric of each piece – its backstory of contemplation, hesitation, labour.

And momentarily out the window – at a colossal, wraparound Robert Ryman painting –

The utterly blanked-out view, a landscape abandoned by all landmarks.

 

And it wasn’t until the fourth day –

When the snow finally started to melt – that I started to find –

In the fields – David’s paintings –

Only in reverse –

As the white broke down – the layers disbanded, disintegrated, dissolved –

Offcuts appeared – shreds, fragments, debris –

A frayed strand of blue rope – the innards of a skinned tennis ball – the spikiest branches of the bramble bushes –

Beginnings –

And then – subdued colours, spare patterns –

And finally – a strange mood – a sense of the brevity of everything –

The dual sadness and glory of decay.

 

And at that moment – a journeying flock of Joanna’s starlings landed and spread out –

To pick over the mud of the defrosting field.

 

Sara Baume, March 2018

 

Images: David Quinn, plan, 2015, acrylic gouache and polychromo on plywood, 98 x 69.5cm
David Quinn_stele_2015_gesso and oil on acrylic glass_27x19x4cm