“The way the mark-making happens makes me think about bodies or my own body”. Hands, feet, intestine-like fleshy shapes often appear in Tom Woolner’s work, and do so with an allusion to a narrative. ‘Internal Weather (Gift)’ has a baby-smooth surface of chalky pastel tones, which gives the work all the delicate beauty of a meticulously extracted fresco. Little wonder this fantastical and absurd object takes on a tantalising authority.

For all the classical characteristics we can draw from Tom Woolner’s works, they never resolve in any enlightened sense. The works often seem like episodes from a cartoon, or, particularly with this work, a theatre stage or layers of a child’s diorama. And more often than not, they’re mischievous: two giant feet emerging from the clouds, like the descent of a clumsy god. If there’s wisdom in here it’s more joyfully surreal.

For all the classical characteristics we can draw from Tom Woolner’s works (they hang like preserved frescos) they never resolve in any enlightened sense. And while the images form into the logic of their own compositions, they’re often mischievous: a plank inserted into what seems to be a heap of intestines, like a wafer in an ice cream – if there’s wisdom in here it’s more joyfully surreal.

For all the classical characteristics we can draw from Tom Woolner’s works (they hang like preserved frescoes) they never resolve in any enlightened sense. They’re often mischievous, and just as with Woolner’s performances, they’re sometimes grotesque or rude or slap-stick. If there’s wisdom in here it’s more joyfully surreal.

“At the core of my work is letting the materials lead me. Without this chance encounter of certain materials doing their thing they perhaps wouldn’t have settled on being so anatomical”. ‘Internal Weather (Cumulus)’ is a composition that seemingly channels us into a bodily canal, while also opening up a glimpse of story-book sky. There’s a narrative in there that sits just beyond reach.

“Is it an episode? Is it a teaching aid? A cautionary tale? They could be excerpts from fables”. Fragments of bodies often appear in Woolner’s works, and often with suggestions of a narrative. ‘The Thinker’ has the feel of a depiction from an anatomical study or a how-to manual, which absurdly tempts us to read into its apparent logic.