By Willia Partridge
As a long-time devotee of the lesser-seen corners of the art world, I make it a point not to set foot in any gallery where the Prosecco is cold and the press release contains the words “dialogue” or “mark-making”. I travel instead to the cultural tundra beyond the big cities, to the church halls, repurposed post offices, and – more and more – unused multi-story car parks.
This month, I found myself meandering through England’s more overlooked postal codes in search of the truly unusual—the exhibitions so off-grid they’d give Artforum a nosebleed. And I was richly rewarded.
1. “Marmalade as Medium” – Upper Little Binton Village Hall
Curated by Mrs Pamela Gorringe (retired librarian, accidental avant-gardist), this one-room show featured fifteen local artists all working exclusively in Seville orange marmalade. Some painted with it, some sculpted it, one woman simply left it in jars atop mirrors to “reflect the sticky duality of time.” The smell was formidable.
Standout piece: Spread Thin, a 6-foot canvas painted entirely with spoons. An allegory for British local politics, according to the accompanying information panel.
2. “Cows I Have Known” – The South Fenland Livestock Pavilion (Gallery 3)
Yes, Gallery 3 is technically an unused sheep pen behind the actual livestock arena, but there was undeniable charm in this solo exhibition by agricultural painter Donny Weft. Every canvas depicted a different cow he has brought up and then taken to market.
My favourites were Enid (2004–2008), a brooding, chiaroscuro Holstein rendered in very broad brush strokes, and Geraldine, Who Stared at Me Once Through a Gate, a triptych executed entirely in mud.
The gift shop sold fridge magnets and udder-shaped soaps.
3. “Quiet Ferocity: The Embroidery of Geoff Trimble” – St. Dymphna’s Community Centre, Exmoor
A revelation. Geoff, a former dentist with a penchant for geopolitical satire, is one of the up and coming stars of British fine art embroidery. His enormous, twelve-panel work NATO: A Tapestry of Disappointment features Theresa May, a stoic dormouse, and a rather beautifully rendered Croatian missile.
Viewers are encouraged to sit on bean bags and contemplate the collapse of multilateral diplomacy in thread. The local WI made lemon drizzle cake for the opening, which was, frankly, excellent.
4. “The Inner Life of Potatoes” – A shed in Wrexham
This one I found through a WhatsApp group entitled Feral British Art. Access was by appointment, and the artist—known only as KEV—met me at the gate wearing what I can only describe as a skin-coloured boiler suit.
Inside: six oil paintings of potatoes. Each haunting. Each inexplicably human. I wept. The painting high in the eaves glared at me with the intensity of a disappointed uncle. KEV insisted on playing a soundscape of root vegetables being harvested.
5. “Unseasonal Landscapes” – The Tourist Information Centre, Malmesbury
A delightful show of traditional oil landscapes—snow in August, bluebells blooming beneath pumpkins, a July thunderstorm, and fourteen images of one field at different times of the year. The artist, 92-year-old Norah Willet, told me she painted only what she felt the weather ought to be, not what it is. She ran out out of white paint halfway through the series, but that only added to the charm. I say she should get the next Turner prize.
I left with a small print of Snowman at a Summer Barbecue, which now hangs proudly above my fireplace.
In conclusion, while the capital may drown in curated white-walled gloss and large-scale installations involving ash or ennui, the real soul of contemporary British art thrives elsewhere—in sticky jars, sheep pens, potato sheds, and the stalwart back rooms of community centres.
As for me, I’ll be continuing my search next month in Northumberland, where I’ve heard rumour of a performance piece involving mime and several boxes of celery.
Until next time
W