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DTSTART;TZID=Australia/Melbourne:20260711T110000
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DTSTAMP:20260703T012910Z
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UID:10000629-1783767600-1785081600@lot19.au
SUMMARY:Blorch!
DESCRIPTION:By Lawrence Finn\, David M Lewis\, Simon Dubbeld\, Riley Finn\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nWe sit together as a society\, screaming our lungs out at clouds. It sounds ridiculous until you realise the clouds are listening. Screaming is healthier than denial. Healthier than pretending the massive social changes aren’t occurring\, that corruption isn’t endemic\, that the racist hard right isn’t ascendant\, that ecology isn’t being auctioned off to trillionaires\, and that our grand experiments in human dignity haven’t suffered catastrophic failures.Shouting at clouds is therapy\, but it is more than shouting. It is communion and contemplation\, a conversation with the reflective self. A way of settling the soul and understanding change\, and the earth-shattering repetitions of stupidity and obscenity that surround us. It is narrative therapy conducted with the weather\, using art as the lingua franca.Artists have always conversed with clouds\, even while remaining constrained and subject to the polemics of politics\, religion and capitalism. I enjoy reading about new artists and the ways they converse with clouds. I love watching people define their voices. I adore encountering something new.Everything has been done before\, but not by me\, not by them\, not by us\, and often not by you either. What has never been done before is the creation of a society where everyone is valued and dreams are nurtured. We have dreamed of that for millennia and spent an astonishing number of bodies trying to manufacture the reality of that dream.Every civilisation promises renewal. Every civilisation promises a better tomorrow. Yet somehow those promises are so often built from disposable people.I am often told not to digress\, to keep my thoughts on track and in perspective. Yet the future is not a destination; it is a journey. The journey lasts as long as you live\, and most of us are only moderately successful at anything beyond remaining alive. That is not necessarily a failure. I am told that where there is life there is hope.I hope this makes sense.The art world often behaves like Logan’s Run. When artists hit twenty\, thirty\, forty\, or whatever age the market decides they are ready for disposal\, they are quietly ushered toward Carousel. Renewal\, we are told. Reinvention. Fresh voices. New energy. A younger generation that needs to be heard.Renewal is a polite euphemism for disposal. The trick of Carousel is that it convinces people the two are the same thing.The old generation disappears. The new generation replaces them. Society congratulates itself for remaining young while quietly forgetting who paid for the illusion.The problem is that art does not work that way. Artists produce work regardless of external circumstances. Experience\, wisdom and failure matter\, but not as much as the single-minded drive to create. The demiurgic impulse that guides older artists should also drive them to mentor younger artists. The point is not to stop the next generation arriving; the point is to ensure they arrive with more opportunities than we did. Otherwise we are simply feeding people into Carousel and calling it progress.The trick is not surviving Carousel. The trick is ensuring the next person arrives better equipped than you were\, that they are given every opportunity to give this precious life their best.Which brings us to this exhibition. \n\n\n\nThree older artists. One younger artist.The older artists know where the exits are because we have spent decades discovering there aren’t any. We have cut our teeth. We know what we are about. We make work whether it sells or not\, whether it is fashionable or not\, whether anyone is listening or not.We know we are standing in the queue for Carousel\, and that our only sensible response is not to kick down\, but to keep making the work and help others up.Viewed through the lens of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy\, we are less a group exhibition than a small and harried crew travelling through the absurdity of contemporary society\, each carrying a towel and a different theory about the weather.David M Lewis is our Marvin.Not paranoid\, merely observant. Deeply thoughtful. Tired in the way only intelligent people become tired. His charming prints\, inspired by journeys to Mexico\, transform the Day of the Dead into an invocation against AI\, trillionaires and killionaires. His work seduces the inner child before quietly reminding us that being angry about the state of the world is evidence that you are still alive\, and that yelling is not a prerequisite for defending others.Simon Dubbeld is our Ford Prefect.A collector of observations. A field researcher compiling notes for the next edition of the Guide. His text-based works echo Jenny Holzer\, but with less polemical proclamation and revolutionary zeal than the Situationist International\, and with generous helpings of Australian humour. Curious\, astute and playful\, he manages to remain cheerful despite paying attention.Lawrence Finn is our Zaphod Beeblebrox\, oscillating between Zaphod’s ego and Zaphod’s unfortunate second head forced to share the ride. One moment galactic president\, the best bang since the Big One\, chasing chaos for the shits and kicks; the next wondering about where the next meal is coming from and searching desperately for his misplaced towel.His work veers between ugly truths and beautiful lies\, savage critiques and prints his mother can show her friends without worrying. And then there is Riley Finn\, the Arthur Dent of the show. The youngest artist in the group. Standing in his dressing gown while the demolition orders are being read. Read not by a Vogon constructor fleet\, but by human greed\, ecological collapse and institutional stupidity.Young artists are always expected to understand rules that are simultaneously changing and being hidden from them. When I look at Riley’s work\, I see remarkable skill\, intelligence and vitality. I see him learning those rules and throwing them back into the clouds to test them.  I see someone learning how to navigate the absurd\, the mundane and the philosophically profound.His work is masterfully skilled\, incredibly fine\, informed by philosophy and animated by a healthy nod to punk attitude. All artists chase rabbit holes and find the clouds inhabiting them. We converse with them and in return they facilitate strange thoughts in stranger weather.So while the metaphor for this show may be The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy\, it feels like we may be sitting in the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. The Ameglian Major Cow\, the Dish of the Day\, is on the menu\, enthusiastically begging us to cut it up and eat it. Like artists\, it is purpose-built for consumption and it is on the carousel.  The meal is happy to die for us. Perhaps that is what all these metaphors have been circling around. The clouds. Carousel. The Hitchhiker’s Guide. They are all talking about the same concern: remaining you within systems that are increasingly designed to treat us as the dish of the day. This show is a humble shot at reality\, a celebration of the inherent joy of life\, and the pleasures of yelling at clouds.It is what happens when artists scream at clouds\, stare down Carousel\, fight the demolition orders as they are being read\, and find themselves unable to stomach the meal being served.It is a touch of artistic indigestion. A cosmic burp. A philosophical belch.BLORCH! \n\n\n\nOpening:Saturday 11 July\, 2-6pm\n\n\n\nExhibition dates:Saturdays-Sundays\, 11 July to 26 July11am to 4pm
URL:https://lot19.au/event/blorch/
CATEGORIES:Art Gallery,Celebration,Community Event,Current Show,Exhibition
ATTACH;FMTTYPE=image/jpeg:https://lot19.au/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/Lawrence-print.jpg
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