Formist acknowledges the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation, the traditional owners of the land upon which we operate.

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Simon Barney

$54.18 USD

A beautiful hand-made limited edition volume containing the artist’s own texts and paintings. Signed and numbered by the artist in a limited edition of 250 copies.

This artist's edition documents the production of a series of paintings by Simon Barney. A tactile object hand-made from the finest papers, materials and printing. It features a traditional fiction format text section with torn fore edges wedged between contrasting art pages. Written by Barney, the texts are playful and reflective and can be read alongside the paintings. The larger format pages are in two sections: an extensive selection of working drawings and a set of seventeen paintings reproduced in colour.

Simon Barney is a painter and curator of the long running exhibition project Briefcase (in which the exhibition was carted around town by Barney in a briefcase). His exhibitions include: How Things Fall Silvershot, Melbourne 2008; Rimbaud/Rambo Neon Parc, Melbourne 2008; Situation Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney 2005; Hospitality Foxy Productions, New York 2001.

The title Screen Fade refers directly to the depicted screens that have lost their internal light and, more importantly, to an eroding of a kind of screen realism that governs our representations. Barney says: ‘In these paintings of discarded technology, the incidental arrangement on the street provided an impetus or suggestion for an arrangement on the canvas. Where technology avowedly pulls us towards knowledge, art leans toward the light of unknowing.'

116 Pages
196 × 240 cm
Edition: 250
Signed and numbered
Text: Simon Barney
Design: Mark Gowing
ISBN: 978-0-9875268-1-6
2013 FE001

There was a basket, or maybe a box – yes, initially a box. Or an appliance. A box with dials. Anyway, it became a box, or two sides of a box. Shorthand for a box. Along with losing sides, it changed colour. Became sort of green, or blue, but probably started yellow. Lost its edge too. It had been placed beside the yellow mattress – where did that go? There was a shadow, a dark triangular patch. No sign of that now. No sign of the leaves either. They made for a rustic scene, sweet little leaves. Too small to be bothered with. No need to overdo the perfume. Details. Aren’t they precious? Why does everyone want to be observant?