Drawings to buy
Please Stop Naming Things
Five untitled objects (various materials), laminated labels (blank), an interactive naming station (non-functional), and a recorded apology.
Please Stop Naming Things is an urgent plea against categorisation, a direct confrontation with language’s futile attempt to impose order onto the unordered. The installation consists of five completely unidentifiable objects, each placed on its own pristine white plinth. They resist classification. They are not sculptures, nor are they functional. They are simply there, refusing to confirm or deny their own purpose.
Each plinth features a laminated museum-style label beneath it. The labels are blank.
At the far end of the gallery, visitors encounter what appears to be an interactive station labeled Name this Object. It consists of a touchscreen and a keyboard, inviting participants to define what cannot be defined. However, the touchscreen does not respond. The keyboard is not plugged in. The act of naming has been made impossible.
A soft voice plays over hidden speakers every six minutes. It simply says, “We’re sorry, but that name is already taken.”
“A thing does not need a name to exist. It does not need a category to matter. A chair is only a chair because someone pointed at it and said so. What if we stopped pointing?”
, Davos
This work operates in the liminal space between language and objecthood. Taking cues from minimalist sculpture, conceptual negation, and the failures of taxonomy, Please Stop Naming Things refuses to participate in the viewer’s desperate need for identification.
The five objects,made of unspecified materials,offer no clues to their origins or intended use. Are they industrial remnants? Sculptural gestures? Forgotten tools? Each visitor arrives with their own assumptions, only to be confronted with a complete lack of confirmation. The interactive naming station, a cruel mirage of participation, heightens the frustration. The recorded apology, played at irregular intervals, taunts those who attempt to impose meaning.
It is unclear whether the apology is sincere.
• The touchscreen is non-functional. No amount of pressing will change this.
• If you feel an overwhelming urge to classify what you see, please sit with that feeling until it passes.
Price: £540,000 (includes all five objects, blank labels, and a certificate that simply states “It Exists.”)
Queue (Clothes)
One of a new series of photographs by Johnny Peckham, showing the British in their natural habitat.
The Last Frame is Yours
Medium: 127-hour single-channel video, involuntary audience participation, signed NDAs, mandatory reflective silence.
Screening Format: 16K digital projection, no subtitles.
Runtime: 5 days, 7 hours, 12 minutes. No intermissions.
The Last Frame is Yours is not a film. It is a commitment, a test, a sentence. At 127 hours in length, the piece obliterates the notion of passive spectatorship, demanding total submission from its audience. Gallery-goers must sign a waiver before entering, acknowledging their understanding that no one is permitted to leave until the final frame has been seen.
The film’s structure is elusive: a meandering collage of unedited security footage, flickering landscapes filmed at one frame per hour, actors reading novels in languages they don’t understand with deliberate hesitation, and entire stretches of black screen where the only soundtrack is the lo-res recording of a someone filling a car with petrol. At irregular intervals, a clock appears, but it does not tell the time.
Viewers are provided with a single, numbered blanket and a deliberately uncomfortable chair. Meals are served in near silence, consisting of a thin broth and dry crackers, a menu devised in collaboration with sleep deprivation researchers. At night (though time loses meaning quickly), pre-recorded voices murmur speculative reflections on the nature of endings, though it is never clear who is speaking.
Davos insists the audience must earn the final frame. Only those who endure the full experience are granted the right to see it. What happens in the last moment remains unknown,viewers sign an NDA and are forbidden from discussing it outside the screening.
Artist Statement:
“This work is a short film that I have worked on whilst researching my magnum opus, a 300 hour feature filmed on Hampstead Heath called Fred Astaire goes to Space.”
, Davos
Curator’s Notes:
This work is the culmination of a career-long investigation into the intersection of time, endurance, and the collapse of voluntary engagement. With The Last Frame is Yours, he transcends conventional filmic expectations, creating a piece that is at once cinematic, sculptural, and carceral.
Drawing from the durational legacies of Warhol’s Empire and Douglas Gordon’s 24 Hour Psycho, but stripping away the safety of optional departure, Davos forces the viewer into a state of radical submission. The fluctuating pace,sometimes glacial, sometimes violently abrupt,mirrors the psychological erosion of captivity, though unlike most imprisonment, this is one the audience has chosen.
The final frame, withheld until total surrender, serves as both punishment and reward. Those who reach it emerge transformed, though no one can say exactly how.
Visitor Guidelines:
• Once admitted, attendees may not leave until the screening is complete.
• Bathroom breaks are allowed, but must be taken in silent, single-file procession, monitored by a gallery attendant.
• No external timekeeping devices are permitted. Phones must be left outside.
• At the end of the screening, attendees are required to sit in silent reflection for one hour before departure.
Price: £1,750,000 (includes blanket, numbered certificate of completion, and exclusive access to a single still from the final frame).
Limited Edition Prints: A series of five images from indeterminate points in the film, titled You Were Here, But When?, is available for £250,000 each.
Critics’ Reactions:
• Sally Quant: “A relentless, unforgiving masterpiece.”
• Michel Downton: “Davos has done what no filmmaker has dared: he has made time itself the antagonist.”
• The Torquay Guardian: “I lasted 84 hours before I broke and was carried to A and E on a passing window-cleaner’s ladder. I can never know what I missed. This will haunt me forever.”
The Last Frame is Yours is not a film you watch. It is a film you survive.
Room 3: Exhibition Wall Panel
Compton, Room 3: A Turning Point (1980,1995), 2025
Printed text on canvas
Room 3: A Turning Point reimagines the traditional exhibition wall panel as a work of art, transforming informational text into a poetic and conceptual meditation. Printed on canvas, this piece blurs the boundaries between documentation and creation, challenging viewers to reflect on how narrative shapes our understanding of art, time, and legacy.
Compton’s mastery lies in their ability to elevate the ordinary. By isolating and reframing text, they invite the audience to focus on its rhythm, structure, and emotional weight. The work’s minimalist design, with precise typography and balanced composition, mirrors the quiet intensity of its content, drawing attention to every carefully chosen word.
This piece is an ode to Compton’s enduring fascination with language as both medium and message, offering a profound commentary on art’s capacity to interpret itself. A singular and thought-provoking addition to any collection, Room 3: A Turning Point embodies their reputation as a boundary-pushing innovator in contemporary art.
Price on Request.
Regent’s Street digital painting by Hedge Fund
Hedge Fund’s digital painting of Regent Street emerges as a bold reconfiguration of urban iconography, blending sharp contours with chromatic discord to confront the viewer with a distilled essence of modernity. The work echoes the socio-aesthetic critiques of the Pop Art movement, particularly in its Warholian flattening of depth and its unapologetic use of color as a declarative rather than descriptive device.
Foregrounded by the figure of a woman mid-gesture, the composition speaks to the alienation and fleeting connections emblematic of metropolitan life. Hedge Fund’s treatment of her form,outlined in stark, almost aggressive black,is a nod to the Neo-Expressionist embrace of emotional immediacy. The surrounding figures, rendered with less intensity, function as passive actors in this theatrical tableau of the mundane. The choice to situate these figures against the commercial backdrop of Regent Street,a site saturated with the histories of consumerism and architectural grandeur,imbues the work with an underlying tension.
In many ways, the artist evokes Walter Benjamin’s musings in The Arcades Project: “Cities are the realized dreams of modernity, but also its battlegrounds.” Hedge Fund captures this duality through a collision of geometric precision and an irreverent disregard for photorealistic fidelity. The palette,subdued yet punctuated by the acidic yellow of the woman’s hair,heightens the sense of dissonance, evoking a subdued palette similar to Edward Ruscha’s explorations of Americana, though transposed into a European context.
What sets this digital painting apart is its simultaneous embrace and critique of the digital medium. The hyper-saturation and precision feel deeply rooted in the algorithmic logic of digital creation, while the human subjects retain a rawness and individuality that resists technological homogenization. Hedge Fund‘s work thus becomes a dialogic site where the past and future of art wrestle for dominance.
Ultimately, Hedge Fund‘s Regent Street is a resonant meditation on temporality and space. It does not invite the viewer to linger in beauty but rather compels them to interrogate their role as both participant and observer in the constructed spectacle of urban life. As the late John Berger might have remarked, “The way we see things is affected by what we know.” Here, Hedge Fund challenges us to confront not only what we know of Regent Street but also what we might prefer to ignore.
