A new series of paintings, pottery and drawings by Martin Poppelwell continues to examine the early work of Samuel Beckett and his first in the trilogy suite of novels, Molloy (1951). Drawing on the narrative of a protagonist visiting his mother, the artist has made pieces that muddle limbo, disintegration, memory and existence into graphic and physical form. Sensing that the confusion existing between the creator and their work are ever present, Poppelwell applies the model of incoherent artist making unclear pieces in order to overcome this gap of ineptitude.

The artist is entirely limited by his/her means, and continues on, in a perpetual doubt. The ‘great’ energy required to do something that is forever out of reach yet one can never abandon without the sense one is abandoning oneself.

Image: Then something about the black dripping from the black boughs, something in that line. The black slush of leaves slowed me down even more. But leaves or no leaves I would have abandoned erect motion, that of man. And I still remember the day when, flat on my face by way of rest, in defiance of the rules, I suddenly cried, striking my brow, Christ, there’s crawling, I never thought of that. But could I crawl, with my legs in such a state, and my trunk? And my head. (1) Oil on canvas, 1680 x 1370 mm.

(1) Excerpt Samuel Beckett, Molloy.