Rob Lyon - Temenos

I walked into the gallery and almost walked right out. The sparsely hung canvasses, filled with drab olive and taupe coloured triangles, looked like boring, geometric abstracts. I turned to leave but reminded myself that sometimes art needs a minute or two to properly introduce itself, and I had a minute or two to spare. Patience doesn’t always pay off, but then something caught my eye.

Was is that light blue strip? Maybe that’s the sea? What about those small organic shapes that look like clouds floating over a horizon? And what to make of all the wonky triangles and polygons separated by straight white lines and the occasional curve. Anyone who’s ever flown over the UK with a window seat will recognise the patterns that mimic rural plots of land, separated by hundred-year-old hedges and public rights of way. Looking at them makes me want to dig my dusty Wellies out of the closet and borrow my neighbour’s dog for a long country walk.

What specifically caught my eye, however, was that these appeared to be flap maps as well as high vantage landscape perspectives. Similar to the way cubism depicts people or objects from different angles at the same time, these works make me feel like I’m walking through a field while also floating above it. Many have a clear horizon line, above which sits hilltops or clouds. Some look to be coastal, implied by wavy blue lines evoking sea waves. I can’t un-see those horizon lines, and yet the visuals look so flat that my intellect is convinced I’m looking down at a map. And in case that wasn’t confusing enough, some of the works incorporate the weather. Clouds, angled rain and lines of wind augment canvasses like they’re a TV meteorology screen. The only thing missing is the temperature and the weather man.

Humans tend to look for the familiar in everything they see, even abstract patterns. So while these could just be a collection of colourful shapes, they contain just enough evocative clues to make it easy to imagine they’re places you’ve been before. Knowing that Lyon spent his childhood on the South Downs makes it’s almost impossible not to see Sussex. Or Dorset, or anywhere coastal, really, where you can take a hilly stroll with the seaside in the distance.

After much longer than I had anticipated, I eventually left the gallery, thankful that I took the time to let the art settle and grab hold of me. These are the kind of innocuous works you might expect to see hanging in an upscale East London restaurant. They have just enough colour and intrigue to catch your attention without unduly distracting you from your dinner date. Until s/he goes to the loos to freshen up before dessert, and you find yourself gazing at these works, contemplating, like me, if they’re aerial landscapes or hillside perspectives. Or maybe both? Like a long rural walk, slow looking is often a highly rewarding experience.


Plan your visit

Temenos’ runs until 16 March.

Visit halesgallery.com and follow @halesgallery on Instagram for more info about the venue.

Follow @rob_lyon on Instagram for more info about the artist.


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2024 - Issue 98