Tinning Street | Brunswick, Australia
22 April – 18 June 2016

Paul Yore’s work speaks for itself – or rather, shouts out loud, and at times, even sings. Greeted by an unsettling high pitched rendition of the Australian National Anthem, resonating from a dizzying display of colour, kitsch and constructed chaos, his current solo exhibition presented at Neon Parc is a sensorial overload, to say the least. Audiences are lured by bright colours, shiny objects, flashing lights and revolving penises; all of which rapidly become nauseating, as the gallery is reimagined as a lurid dystopia.

Exploring personal and national narratives of identity – from the politics of gender and religion, to a critique of Australia’s violent history and consumer driven culture – the artist lay bare his frustrations (“I’m going crazy mum!”). Excess comments on excess in Yore’s latest series of tapestries and mixed media installations; each a colourful bricolage bombarded with popular vernacular. His application of diverse materials and references speak to a wide audience, rendering it a highly accessible and potent exhibition. This is enhanced by a clever balancing of the tension between humour and truth. One is often left unsure of whether to smirk and giggle or cry in despair; an uncertainty which lingers beyond the gallery door, prompting deeper introspection about the issues raised in the works.

The exhibition marks the return of the Justin Bieber motif that led to the police raid and subsequent charges of child pornography (later dismissed) against Yore for the ironically titled installation Everything is Fucked at Linden Centre of Contemporary Arts in 2013. In Slave 4 U, an altarpiece that juxtaposes religious iconography with celebrity pin ups, a young Bieber is depicted alongside video footage of a weeping Kim Kardashian; an iconoclastic comment on 21st Century idolatry and society’s shifting values. Yore’s unwavering persistence is significant, reaffirming his position as a driving force for local dialogues surrounding censorship in the arts. His case has greatly contributed to the slow maturation of arguably one of the more censored countries in the Western artworld.

Injustice is explored widely throughout the highly charged oeuvre. Strong references are made to the ongoing impact of European invasion in works like Spoils of War. Slogans such as “White Trash Australia has a Black History” and “Dumb Genocide Nation” are juxtaposed alongside KKK imagery and an Australian flag in the shape of a swastika. An innocent and multicoloured heart shaped sign pokes out of the central shrine reminding us that ‘Love is Everything’…

Further to this (and as to be expected) there is no shortage of homoerotic paraphernalia. Yore continues his exploration of gay politics, overtly negotiating homosexuality in a country in which marriage equality continues to be condemned. A rainbow bears the line “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone” – Who are we to pass judgement? – he asks.

With the boldness of Tracey Emin and the pop appeal of Grayson Perry, Yore joins the crusade of influential artists using the language of tapestry as a political tool, exploring questions of gender whilst challenging traditional hierarchies of art and craft. The artists’s inner consciousness explodes across a series of elaborate textile works, each splattered with intense and often aggressive slogans (“Tony Abbott (just fuck off and die)”). These neo-punk tapestries are at once a cathartic meditation for the artist and a confronting wake up call to the viewer. Whilst the softness of the medium opposes the vulgarity of the statements, these quilts offer no comfort. The work is deafening and I am grateful for more minimal (and text free) pieces like Dreaming Is Free and Computer wrld that offer moments of relative quiet amongst the mayhem.

On entering the Tinning Street gallery, one does not just step into the psychedelic world of Paul Yore, rather a frighteningly raw microcosm of the media saturated lives that we all inhabit. The artist offers audiences both a sobering reality check and a stimulating space in which to confront the complexities of the Australian identity. Yore holds a mirror to the spectacle of our society that is difficult to turn away from, and at times even harder to face.

This article was originally published by Art Kollectiv in April 2016