When The Lights Go Up: Fleur Yearsley

Lockdown Still Life represents a moment of contemplation when you catch yourself drifting in thought while in a group setting. It is a daydream while a conversation is taking place. With parks being the only spaces to socialise, they became a fertile ground for idle thoughts. Attention drifts to the edges of things, the picnic blanket's tassels overlapping the grass, the impromptu composition of the Adidas sliders, thrown off as if embracing each other, holding and almost protecting the cold metallic can. Yearsley captures a moment we’ve all experienced when the immediate world around us carries our waking reveries.

Painted during lockdown, in Come Round Yearsley explores her relationship with space and confinement with newfound freedom from the daily expectations of commuting, working, socialising, and rushing to her studio to find a couple of hours of refuge to paint. Come Round comes from a place of rest. Sitting from her bed looking out towards her open window, the artist is capturing the warmth of being woken up by light seeping through the cracks of the blinds. The title invites the audience to share in this sacred and intimate space. The safety of being indoors with the tension of nature reaching out to the outside world calls out to our deep need for affection. The plant here is leaning towards the light, desiring and yearning for more than what currently comes through the window. The subtle colour shifts, fabric creases and bed folds, speak for the confidentiality of this interior scene. Calling us towards the endless expanse of blue sky, while resting peacefully indoors, Come Round softly speaks of the tension between our need for more connection during lockdown, solitude and lack of physical touch, while finding rest from a saturated life.

Halfway Down The Stairs, is a memory, representing two iconic 1990s slinky toys travelling down Fleur Yearsley's childhood staircase. The artist's interest in colour shines through in this work, with the slinky toys moving through the colour wheel, and empty space activated by carefully chosen lilacs and yellows. While referencing the poem 'Halfway Down' by A. A. Milne, Yearsley uses the backdrop of the staircase as a metaphor for life, with the toys acting as protagonists, twisting and turning their way down, yet suspended in action. Yearsley captures them on the brink of their next move. Although their path is fairly predictable, there is an element open to chance. They could spiral out of control or keep racing each other to the bottom, the only assurance is that there is a fast-paced movement about to happen. Through this youthful subject, with the toys' metallic colours and haptic nature, Yearsley reminisces over childhood and change. In the blink of an eye, the slinkys are on the landing.

I Want To Believe rings with powerful 1990s iconography. From the mesmerising lava lamps that lit teenage bedrooms to the obsession with UFOs, aliens, and space, made famous on sci-fi cult classics like the X-Files; Yearsley here depicts the collective imagery and interests of her generation growing up. At the heart of her fascination with life on other planets, aliens, the universe, shines excitement for what is yet to be discovered. Starry eyes, although tamed slightly by adulthood, always keep a little wonder in outer space. This work is aspirational, speaking to our inner-explorer pursuing the meaning of life. The intentional outlined shape of the electrical cord making its way out of frame references Giorgio de Chirico's Neo-Metaphysical works of the 1960s which shows power chords charging from the moon and sun.

Let Me In is a large-scale canvas that highlights Fleur Yearsley's use of space and sensitive approach to colour. Meditating on the impact of lockdown and its constraining social regulations, Yearsley transports the audience into her pre-Covid memories. Here, we stand amongst friends, dancing, in enclosed spaces and doing what - more than ever - wouldn't be allowed. The stark contrast between the implied dark dance floor, vibrating through the walls of this brightly lit toilet cubicle hints at the pace of the scene and the subject depicted. Standing in front of this flat, pale yellow door, the viewer wants to be involved in the communal experience taking place, held in suspense contemplating the scene behind the door. Each figure, standing on a checked floor as figurines on a board game, wearing familiar brands and uniforms we own ourselves. The unravelling toilet roll on the lower right, acts as a decelerator to the scene. Slowing down until it’s stopped in motion, Let Me In suspends the secret communal act at play, rendering it sacred. This painting is a testament to the fact Yearsley is not afraid to take on an ambitious scale, subject, and colour. Barnett Newman's fear of primary colours feeds into the artist's challenge to harmonise powerful yellows, reds, and blues, with their softer palettes of greens, purples, and oranges peeping beneath the door.

When The Lights Go Up captures Fleur Yearsley's ability to distill a scene that immediately follows a period of intense movement. Here she depicts everyday items lost or discarded on the dancefloor; lost sunglasses, a Monzo card, a Casio watch, mixed with empty drinks and unfinished cigarettes. The blinding light illuminating the objects acts as a sobering cold shower. We're confronted with the aftermath, and consequences, while also celebrating a moment of togetherness. The composition finds order within the mess, combining a cropped frame with loose brushstrokes, playing on structure and order, as the spontaneous improvisation of nightlife sings with a harmony of its parts, the objects left behind still humming the last song.