Glenn Brown must be a strange man. Repainting other people뭩 pictures in meticulous detail then calling them his own. Spending weeks on hardcore sci-fi dreamscapes, 밶fter?artists like Tony Roberts and Chris Foss ?big beer in photorealist geekworld, apparently ?only to end up with a replica of the original, but painted by ex-Turner Prize nominee, Glenn Brown.
Then there are the Old Masters. Figures from Rembrandt and rococo flirt Jean-Honor?Fragonard, redone in sickly sulphurous colours and given titles like Death Disco or They Threw Us All In A Pit And Built A Monument On Top (Parts 1 And 2). All of them with Brown뭩 trademark supersmooth surface, making them look like photographs. Which is part of the point. Imagine thick, trowelled-on expressionist heads flattened out but blurring at the edges, as if the decrepit face staring out at you like Norman Bates?mother dolled up for a date actually exists somewhere in three dimensions. Hopefully a long, long way away.
It뭩 a disturbing thought, and one which creeps up on you as you walk around the exhibition. Especially when confronted by sculptures like Three Wise Virgins (2004), which are everything the paintings aren뭪. Monstrous impasto slugs slowed to a halt by their own bodyweight. Quick, pass the salt.