Alice Macdonald: The Gentle Vibration of Things
V.O. Curations, London, 6 - 14 June 2022
Alice Macdonald's paintings in her show The Gentle Vibration of Things seem to show episodes from her life. They're painted from watercolour sketches of people she knows doing ordinary things like petting a dog or reading a book or going for a walk. Yet somehow, they're also impersonal. Unlike portraits eager to tell you about the sitter, Macdonald's figures don't project their personality into the paintings. The human presence in the paintings is instead something for us to identify with, the better to get a sense of the overall mood.
So it didn't occur to me to wonder who 'Joanna' might be, beyond the fact that she's the one sitting at the table next to the dishes and dishevelled cutlery in Joanna with Empty Plates, allowing us to share this moment of pause with her. It's a meaningful pause. The correspondence between the linear patterns - the tablecloth, the dishes, the tree branches visible against the night sky through the window - and her wry smile give a mystical resonance to the moment depicted, as does the (slightly cheesy) full moon.
The exhibition sticks to this sense of enchantment and avoids the blunter realities of life. Peeling Pears represents a woman doing just that. Though her task is mundane, the painting is wonderfully luminous, like it's lit up from the inside. The pears in question are scattered on a table in front of her, some stitched on, others overlapping them, some shining with gold leaf. It's the kind of thing you'd find on a Carlo Crivelli; it's a Gothic preciousness that transforms an ordinary moment into a treasure.
When I left the gallery, I went and sat on a bench by Angel tube to write some notes, where I overheard a Christian preacher trying to convince a Muslim about the deeper significance of the crucifixion. The Muslim said, 'Mate, our faiths come from the same place. Why waste time trying to convert me when we're surrounded by atheists?' I wondered what kind of discussion they'd have at The Gentle Vibration of Things. Would these paintings be a source of agreement or conflict?
Walking on the Ridgeway is the most overtly mystical painting, and also the largest. In it, two human figures, all but the tops of their heads cropped by the bottom edge, walk along a road beneath a sun that emits long gold rays over the landscape like a blessing. A black crow flies across the centre of the painting, transformed into a symbol by its resemblance to the white dove/Holy Spirit in religious paintings, but not making too strong a claim about what it symbolises. I reckon Muslims and Christians could both enjoy it. It's not dogmatic about the nature of the Trinity. And the atheists could get on board with it too, and say things about the wonder of life. In these radiant and easygoing paintings, it's all good.