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 Gladiator, Vinyl adhesive,
varable dimensions, 1998
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Julia Gorman's
recent wall drawings are in a state that could be
described as transitional. For the recent exhibition Gladiator,
the artist executed large works in fat lines of purple or
green, accented with bolts of silver and tendrils of navy
blue on either wall of the gallery. Gorman's line is
muscular, leading back into itself with a convoluted
perversity. The two forms are offset by an incongruous
decorative form, in a purplish maroon, that occupies the
back wall of the gallery and its far left corner. In
Gorman's work, it is impossible to separate form from
content. The artist will focus on the peculiar qualities
and associations of her media, drawing these qualities
out to create burlesque hybrids. When the artist paints,
or draws, or unfurls meters of colored vinyl across
gallery walls, it appears that she does so in celebration
of each medium's more abject tendencies. This is an
aspect of Gorman's work that exists to its detriment as
much its favor. In this case, the associations of her
material signwriter's vinyl find their resonance in
the work's resemblance to text and architectural
decoration.
Gorman's work has drawn on the tradition of
installation practice that centres on the gallery as a
specific location and as an historical site as the
subject of the artist's work. Usually, these practices
focus not only on the architecture of the actual space,
but also on the theorized separateness of the gallery
from the world outside it. Attempts to bring the world
into the gallery, or to make such divides between
cultures inside and outside visible, most often function
to shore up the historical status quo, rather than to
undermine it.
Gorman's site specificity takes in temporal as well as
physical locations. In the hip-hop style of graffiti
executed on the trains in the rail yards nearby her
inner-city studio, Gorman has found a precedent for site
specific works that actively intervene into a space. The
inherently physical nature of Gorman's technique and
choice of scale mark her practice as one of intervention,
in specific sites and the body of history as a whole.
Unlike the polite and distanced dialogue with the space
(or its surrounds) that is usually the order of such
activities, Gorman's tone is aggressive. Her large
decorative motif in maroon, lime and gold, which careers
from the rear wall to the left, is a piece of
compositional unbalancing carried out with a sinister
chuckle. For Gorman, the gallery is a site wherein
tensions between cultures popular and high, official
and marginal are played out in a continuing round of
encounters.
Before Gorman's intervention, the wall drawing was
already a hybridised form. The wall drawing is a cousin
of the mural but with all the associations of severe
objectivity that mark the minimalist and
installation-based practices from which it emerged in the
1960s. Contemporary examples of this form expand the wall
drawing's frame of reference to include the decorative or
the representational as elegantly expressed in recent
wall drawings by Sol Le Witt and our own Tony Clark. By
increasing the scope of the wall drawing's genetic pool,
contemporary proponents of the form have imbued the form
with a new vitality.
The use of twisting, entangled lines and the skewed
placement within the gallery impart an eerily organic
quality to Gorman's work. These works give the impression
of arrested movement, threatening to further mutate into
a more unlikely form once the viewer's back is turned.
This quality is enhanced by the likenesses to text,
decoration, or representational schema which lurks
beneath the vinyl skin of Gorman's work. They are lively
forms in the process of becoming, in much the same way
that the language virus of Burroughs' famous axiom
constantly mutates in the body of its host.
Andrew McQualter
August 1998
© The artist and 
Courtesy of the artist.
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