Viltė Fuller - Corporate Horrors
I spent twenty five years in the corporate world. Eight hours a day, five days a week, 52 weeks a year analysing spreadsheets, sales figures, and status reports. Eventually I burnt out and walked away. So it’s a bit of a shock that I didn’t fall into the foetal position, shaking with PTSD, when I found myself surrounded by Viltė Fuller’s latest solo show.
It’s far too easy to make obscure abstracts that confuse the eyes and make you wonder what they are. That’s a painterly gamble, since pure abstraction can be off-putting and obtuse, and that lessens it’s impact. But Fuller’s abstracts smartly incorporate familiar elements in ways that are alien and unnatural, and they draw you in because, well… that might be a Nokia. That could be an upside down head. That definitely looks like the shirt my girlfriend gave me for Christmas.
Fuller was born in 1996. She’s part of a generation that has never known a world without Internet or open plan offices. It’s the generation that inherited Boomer and Gen X financial crises, burdened with the recovery of something that wasn’t their fault but is now their responsibility. Is it any wonder that this generation would look back on the “greed is good” era as a horrific monstrosity?
Overwhelmed by a palette of dull, corporate greys, Fuller’s paintings mesh communication tech with instantly recognisable white collar office imagery. Sometimes literally. One work is topped off with an actual men’s dress shirt, with fabric that seamlessly blends into the oil. In another, a keyboard turns out to be the real thing, physically attached to the canvas. Other items are less obvious. One montage looks like a collection of old mobiles and calculators, except they have too many keys in non-standard configurations. They’re familiar but increasingly disorienting the longer you sit and stare. Like being placed at a desk on your first day of work and being told to ‘get on with it’ without any instructions whatsoever.
All the works are slightly unsettling. They contain just enough recognisable imagery… fingers, nipples, keyboard keys, etc… to root them in our world but warped patterns and bodily misconfigurations make you question what you’re looking at. One work appears to be buttons in a lift, except they’re far too organic and rubbery, like rows of teats you might find on the udder of a pig.
In another interesting twist, many pieces have jagged, uneven edges giving the impression they’ve been torn away from a larger work. A careful glance around the side reveals this to be an illusion. It’s just thickly edged paint, layered up and cascading off the surface, hiding the smooth, tautly stretched canvas beneath, on which there isn’t a single mark or blemish. No dripped paint, smudges or fingerprints. It’s an inverse of how most corporations operate, going out of their way to appear externally slick and glossy, while hiding the mismanagement and chaos inside.
The scariest work of all, however, is the simplest. A blank sheet of notebook paper has been painted, it’s lines look like they’ve been scratched into the oil. The paper looks smudged, as if nervous hands have shifted back and forth over it dozens of times, not yet sure what to put down first. A stark reminder that the same fear strikes the hearts of corporates and artists alike: a blank page.
Plan your visit
‘Corporate Horrors’ runs until 20 January.
Visit brookebenington.com and follow @brookebenington on Instagram for more info about the venue.
Visit viltefuller.com and follow @viltefuller on Instagram for more info about the artist.
PLUS…
Check the What’s On page so you don’t miss any other great shows closing soon.
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