A reduced fortnightly newsletter for you today as it’ll be a big one next time ahead of the GLASGOW ART WEEKEND! We can’t wait!

Read on for Evie Glen’s report on this year’s edition of the festival and Sgàire Wood’s exhibition, In Pride, In Piety, In Vigilance.

GAM xoxo

p.s. Don’t forget your ticket for the Glasgow Art Weekend Party! Glasgow Art Map & Healthy music and performances from: Elazer, Makaya, poisonous relationship, Rho McGuire! Drinks at Bar DeeDee and food from Bridgeton favourites, Keek’s!

New Narratives in Photography – Pakistan, Asad Ali, Hira Noor, Ume Laila & Waleed Zafar | Hillhead Library

WHAT’S ON?

Submit your exhibition/event to our online map or email us if you’d like us to promote something in this newsletter!!

Tuesday 1st September
💫 6–8pm | Rachel Fäth Artist Talk | Goethe Institute

💫 6–9pm | IN YOUR FACE, Steven A Hart | The Glue Factory | Continues until 3rd September, open daily 12–5pm

Thursday 3rd September
💫 Open from today | New Narratives in Photography – Pakistan, Asad Ali, Hira Noor, Ume Laila & Waleed Zafar | Hillhead Library | Continues until 11th December, open Monday – Thursday, 10am – 8pm, Friday and Saturday, 10am – 5pm, and Sunday, 12 – 5pm

💫 6–9pm | Intravenously Polite, Ursula Kam-Ling Cheng | Grateful Gallery | Continues until 13th September, open Wednesday–Saturday, 11am–6pm and Sunday, 11am–5pm

Friday 4th September
💫 6–8pm | The Mothership Collective 2:0, Harold Offeh | Tramway | Continues until 07/02/2027, open Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday, 12–5pm and Saturday, 12–6pm

💫 6–9pm | Bitter Honey, Pleasant Punishment, Sam Della-Valle | N.atelier | Continues until 15th September, open Monday – Saturday, 9am-6pm and Sunday, 9am-4pm

💫 8–12pm | Launch party: Slant: Artist Image Exchange, Market Gallery | Titwood Bowling Club | Full programme details

Saturday 5th September
💫 6–9pm | Plein Souls, Toby Messenger | iota | Continues until 19th September, open Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, 12 – 5pm, Thursday, 12 – 6pm, and by appointment

💫 7–9pm | The Conversation, Neil Clements | Celine Gallery | Continues until 3rd October, open Saturday, 12–5pm and by appointment. Email: galleryceline@gmail.com

💫 7–9pm | Honesty Box, Rachel Fäth | Ivory Tars | Continues until 11th October, open Saturday and Sunday, 12–5pm

What’s real at Jupiter Rising?

The bus, Park’s of Hamilton, drops the crowd, elf-eared and fairy-winged, on the roadside opposite the Artland’s gates. En route to the festival, the elves and fairies sausage-roll down Charles Jenck’s tellytubby hills. The pools between the ‘Cells of Life’ are dyed turquoise. The sun above is a quarter of yellow in the corner of a too-blue sky. There’s some pygmy goats over a billy goats bridge. We wonder if later they’ll be able to hear junglehussi from their pen.

This year’s Jupiter Rising X Edinburgh Art Festival is curated by Glasgow-based artist, performer and ‘Sgàireoke’ host, Sgàire Wood. In a recent interview with Fest Mag, she said that Jupiter Artland reminds her of The Prisoner, a British sci-fi series from the ‘60s set in a pastoral village whose population is mostly happy, though they have numbers instead of names and can’t tell their prison guard from their neighbour.

At 5.47pm we cross off ‘vogues’ from our Jupiter Rising bingo card while sitting on a hay bale in the X MUSE Sunset Bar. Robert Wilson, live-in co-founder of Jupiter Artland and heir of Nelson’s Pharmacies (purveyors of ‘holistic wellness’) orders a Red Stripe from the bar. Later, we see Nicky Wilson sporting a ‘Global Feminist’ t-shirt by the Boob Bar. Our prison guards or our neighbours? We’ve got six hours to wonder before the bus back to Glasgow.

Most of the performers are Glasgow-based, handpicked by Wood from her circle of artist friends who are also performers, musicians, novelists, poets and the like. Among them are Poisonous Relationship, aka Jamie Crewe (artist), Princessa Mangione III, aka Shola von Reinhold (author), and junglehussi, aka Matthew Arthur Williams (photographer). The first we see is the DJ and producer, naafi. She plays a set that moves from sparkly ambient towards a James K kind of tech-house. It’s very danceable but the crowd are too shy or sober to move anything more than their wrists under the skylight of the Glasshouse. We agree this must be the audience ‘holding space’, and cross it off the bingo.

While queuing for a veggie chilli dog (the chilli is cauliflower mixed with sriracha) I overhear someone wonder why the festival is so tame this year. Maybe erotic reptilian performance art will help? We slither through a packed crowd to watch Holly O’Brien’s latex alien mermaid performance, of Haghill gallery, Horsepower fame, before realising we’ve mixed up our erotic reptile performers, silly us. We slither back out, resolve to catch the second half, and head to The Ballroom, where a bottleneck of other tardy Desert Kingsnake fans has formed between the hedges. We cut across the grass and wait by closed doors. Sober signs inform us there will be ‘No photography. No touching. No propositioning.’ We cross off ‘tabis’ from the bingo – Nike ones on the feet of artist and writer, Lisette May Monroe.

Inside, Kirstin Halliday languishes as our snake on a red-lit leather couch. They shed their skin in a reverse-anthropomorphic strip tease (the snake grows legs, is human). Their transformation is complete later, when they take up the Sgàireoke mic for a wonderful rendition of ‘I’ve Never Been to Me’ by Charlene, a 70s Motown singer who dropped off the face of the earth in the early 80s. A slimy ponytail is the only remnant of Halliday’s reptile self. Later we spot O’Brien in the crowd in human form. Both encounters resonate, in an accidental kind of way, with Wood’s artistic preoccupation with artifice and authenticity.

Her festival curation is both an ideal party and a real life case study for the themes in her accompanying exhibition, In Pride, In Piety, In Vigilance. In it, Wood destabilises the symbolism of flags, crests and coats of arms to rupture their ever-closer relationship to violent nationalism, sectarianism and other exclusionary identities. Through three symbolic mascots of her own – a pelican for piety, a peacock for pride and a crane for vigilance – she mimics the gilded pomp of those symbolic identities. The blood of the pious pelican for example, so-called according to a Christian myth that claimed the bird draws blood from its own breast to feed its young, is fake. The vigilant crane balances atop a pile of rubble, clutching a prayer book in its white gloved hand.

Wood makes explicit the fantasy thinking required to understand identity only through symbols like colours on flags and crests on banners. It is an identity moulded on illusion, a performance posing as reality. An artificial self is mistaken for an authentic one, with no awareness there ever was or could be a difference. In a shield of false eyelashes, Wood makes the line between artifice and authenticity explicit.

I spent most of the festival trying to differentiate the artificial from the authentic. Cauliflower sriracha chilli, reserved tables by the fire pit…The Wilsons as the noble benefactors of Scottish queer and experimental art? Artifice. Sgàireoke, lesbian reptiles and Glasgow’s queer club scene? Authentic. There is always, I suppose, a dissonance between the art and the means that fund it. When public funding is so strapped, there’s few tempting alternatives for less well-off artists and art organisations but to cosy up to Wilson characters (i.e. eccentric but comparably, mostly benign millionaires). At Jupiter Rising though, the dissonance was hard to ignore.

At 11.30pm, we head to the Wild Kitchen in the hopes of crossing ‘something foraged’ off our bingo card before the night ends. There’s a few people sitting on logs, real logs, around the firepit. Staff are piling hundreds of £4 marshmallows into plastic storage tubs, so we ask for two. They tell us to take as many as we want. Soon there’s at least ten of us burning marshmallows over the flames and I wonder if someone might start singing ‘This Land is Your Land’.

By home time, our bingo card is only half full. We saw no dogs in bags, heard no Madonna karaoke, though we did catch ‘John’s’ cover of ‘The Ballad of Chasey Lain’ from the Bloodhound Gang’s 1999 album Hooray for Boobies. There’s still, at least, some unexpected things at Jupiter Rising.

We wander back past the goats and the tellytubby hills by the light of our phone torches. The bus picks us up off the side of the road just after midnight. All the elves and fairies are in tow.

Evie Glen is a freelance journalist living in Glasgow. Her writing is concerned with understanding contemporary Scotland through its people, culture and arts.

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Happy Monday, dear readers!

After the success of last year’s pilot Southside Art Weekend, for 2026 Glasgow Art Map is bringing you an even bigger programme that expands across the whole city!

From exhibitions in galleries and flats to open studios and publication launches to performances and screenings, this year we’re excited to platform a breadth of events with a wide range of excellent artists. The aim of Glasgow Art Weekend is to showcase the brilliant contemporary art happening all year-round in the city!

👀 The weekend also marks the launch of the 10th printed map, designed by the fantastic Maia Leung & Soft Tofu Press! 👀

The full Glasgow Art Weekend schedule is online now, check it out here.

For the art weekend, on Friday 18th September, Glasgow Art Map & Healthy present 🦐 A Glasgow Art Weekend Party! 🦐

Get your party ticket now!

Friday night of the art weekend is East end night, so after the openings head to 115 Rimsdale Street from 8pm to celebrate the inaugural Glasgow Art Weekend!

There will be music and performances from 🦐 Elazer 🦐 Makaya 🦐 poisonous relationship, and 🦐 Rho McGuire, David Dale Gallery’s Bar DeeDee will be on the drinks and Bridgeton’s best sandwich slingers Keek’s will be serving up your dinner in the yard.

See you there!
GAM xoxo

Thanks for reading the Glasgow Art Map Newsletter!

Add your exhibition to the map!

Like what you’re reading? Tell your friends!
GAM xoxo

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Mount Jupiter’s monthly column lands today with a investigation into the Fleming Collection’s magazine Scottish Art News: what is it, who is it, why is it?! Read on, share, like, and become a paid subscriber so we can keep commissioning tasty exposés like this one.

Yours,
GAM xoxox

Another AGM at the Fleming-Wyfold Art Foundation

There’s something irksome when organisations assume titles that over-reach, you know what we mean? A constituency has to be earned somehow. Glasgow Art Map gets to be Glasgow’s art map by dint of it fulfilling that relatively modest claim. Glasgow International? Kinda. Edinburgh Art Festival? Close enough.

A few years ago one ‘Scottish Short Film Festival’ appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, having undergone a rebrand from the rather less officious sounding Raptor Filmz Short Scottish Film Festival, based in West Lothian. There are plenty of pay-to-play film festivals that exist primarily to distribute awards and scaffold an otherwise perilously wasteful activity with the image of an audience and critical integrity. Indeed, this is the very model of every award for hairdressing, beauty, PR, social media marketers, amateur sports clubs, and, of course, the RA Summer Exhibition. We don’t begrudge self-congratulatory fluff when it’s so naked, but there’s something about the guise of officialdom that rubs us the wrong way. Wait, this is the Scottish Short Film Festival? Wow! You mean to say it is representative, transparent, and somehow endowed with the significant responsibility its title implies…

Anyway, having made some enemies through recent jibes (MJR#6), this month we’re picking the scab to ask: Scottish Art News? What is it? Where did it come from? Is it a psy-op? The title has been publishing quite a lot of verbiage online since 2019, but to our great surprise has been alive and kicking in-print since 2008. We can assume most critics haven’t much explored who is commissioning them in that time, so we thought we’d take that liberty. Scottish Art News is published by the Fleming-Wyfold Art Foundation, a charity registered in England with the ‘aim to promote the exploration, understanding and enjoyment of Scottish art and creativity alongside the maintenance and public display from a collection of art.’ Thanks daddy!

That sizable collection once adorned the international offices of investment bank Robert Fleming & Co, founded by the eponymous Dundonian in the nineteenth century. In 2000, the bank was sold to Chase Manhattan for $7.7bn and the charity was formed to care for its art collection. That year, Dundee Boab’s descents set up Fleming Family & Partners, a new asset management firm—known since 2014 as Stonehage Fleming following a merger with a South African firm originally established in 1976 to facilitate the outbound migration of wealthy families in the years of a collapsing minority rule in southern Africa. Stonehage Fleming are now headquartered in Jersey, with offices in other very normal places like Switzerland, Israel and Luxembourg. As Private Air—the magazine for the ‘world’s most discerning’ but apparently not very literate travellers—reported in 2010, some of the collection still ‘gives pleasure to those who work in [sic] Fleming family’s offices and boardroom nearby.’

Honestly? Looks kinda lit. RIP.

The Fleming-Wyfold Art Foundation operated a physical premises in London’s Mayfair until 2015, after which it embraced a rather convenient ‘museum without walls’ strategy, i.e. loaning out touring shows. Very ‘big society’ coded tbqh. It runs on the fumes of a truly massive endowment, exceeding funds of £13m at year ending March 2025, and is governed by five trustees:

• Rory David Fleming, distant relative to old queenie herself and nephew of Ian Fleming of James Bond notoriety.

• John Philip Henry Schomberg Scott, peer and the 13th Laird of Gala

• Katrina Jane Sparrow née Fleming, peer and socialite

• James Essex Holloway CBE, Westminster-born, Courtauld-educated retired director of the Scottish National Portrait Gallery

• Richard Schuster, Eton-educated peer, grandson to Roland Herman Hermon-Hodge, 2nd Baron Wyfold, and Dorothy Fleming.

Excuse the wacky names jumpscare (thanks thepeerage.com!).

Though it’s very much a family affair, you’d be right to guess that none reside in Scotland, making their service all the more magnanimous and not at all about cultivating favourable markets. The charities register identifies one employee earning £60–70k, who we deign to presume is young American director Theodore Albano, also London-based and whose qualifications are elusive, but who certainly can’t pronounce Edinburgh. The enterprise acquires works in physical media, including contemporary art, and that’s fine, actually. Rich folk can splurge however they like—though we’d rather it weren’t tax deductible. These works and their bedraggled artists (dead and alive) invariably become fodder to the canon-building work of Scottish Art News.

You might say we are petty and professionally jealous, but that’s not fair. We are petty, professionally challenged and fiscally jealous. You see, the thing is, we just are not so sure that the only continuously funded publication on art in Scotland should be a self-annointed glossy mag and delirious blog run from West London central command for the purposes of legitimising a century-long vanity project of hereditary aristocrats, but maybe it’s just us.

Complaints regarding ~the state of arts criticism~ are deeply wearisome… we know. We’re quite resigned to the post-critical fugue where our remaining column inches are seized by invertebrate press-release-munching or feckless poesie on rocks, time, mud, and so on. With our last glimmer of hope, we’re placing inordinate pressure on sprightly newcomers Bumper Magazine, PAMphlet and Material, whose emergence promises some ~discourse~ unfettered by the imaginary of an orotund bourgeoisie. Time will tell if they too elude the trappings of hack whimsy. We dearly hope so.

💫

Got art world issues?

MoJu will give you answers: mount.jupiter.conspiracy@gmail.com

Thanks for reading the Glasgow Art Map Newsletter!

Remember! If you’re putting on an exhibition or event, you can use our online submissions form to get it featured on our online map, Instagram, and in this newsletter AND our paid subs weekly guide.

GAM xoxo

Glasgow Art Weekend 2026 is FAST APPROACHING! Keep an eye out for programme announcements from us over the next few weeks, and mark your calendars for a jam-packed weekend of art and culture in Glasgow, happening 17-20 September.

Thanks for reading and supporting us!
GAM xoxo

WHAT’S ON?

Submit your exhibition/event to our online map or email us if you’d like us to promote something in this newsletter!!

Monday 17th August

💫 6–9pm | SUPERBAD, Millie Cook, Grace van-Daal, Amber Johnston, Barnaby Wessell, Josserose Illunga | Until 20th August, open Wednesday and Thursday, 11am–5pm

💫 6–9pm | A Cat Asked My Boss to Fire Me from the Factory Because I Am a Talented Artist, Saul Auty, Roman Devyatkin, Demi Gao, Lucia Jones, Natalia Kungurova, Choin Lee, Jaeyoun Lee, Marcello Mazzella, Zemfira Mazukabzova, Valeriya Nochovnaya, Rebecca Rae, Anastasiia Sokolova, Kate Street, Minyu Zhu Curator: Alexandra Orlova | Strange Field | Until 20th August, open daily, 2–7pm

Tuesday 18th August

💫 6–9pm | Birdwatching, Filip Velkovski | New Glasgow Society | Until 20th August, open daily, 12–8pm

Wednesday 19th August

💫 6–9pm | Commonplace Issue 6 Launch Event, Joanna Heath | W2 Store

Thursday 20th August

💫 6–9pm | Real Estate, Laura Haynes, Esther Hesketh, Maisie Wills, Toby Üpson, Hannah Parkinson, Beth Emsden, Emma Mortimer, Lucille Mona Ling, Will Farmer, Sophia Kelly-Keegan | David Dale Gallery

Friday 21st August

💫 10am–6pm | Hard Labour, Anonymous sex worker artists x Scotland 4 Decrim & Arika | Transmission Gallery

💫 6–9pm | HEAVY FOOTED, Anika Ahuja | Broadside | Until 29th August, open Wednesday–Saturday, 12–6pm

💫 7pm | Skiff Moving Slowly, Steven Anderson & Alistair Quietsch | Until 23rd August, open Saturday and Sunday, 10am–6pm

6–9pm | TRACK STAR, Cora Weiss with Melanie Colbey and Daisly Foniciello | Playground Gallery | Until 30th September, open by appointment

Sunday 23rd August

💫 6–9pm | Stones Become Bread, Jemimah Vaughan | Boardroom Committee Room | Until 30th August, open daily, 12–4pm

Wednesday 26th August

💫 7–8:30pm | Zifzafa, Lawrence Abu Hamdan | The Common Guild | Until 20th October, open Thursday–Saturday, 12–5pm

Friday 28th August

💫 5:30–8:30pm | Funeral Flowers, Molly M. Whawell | Market Gallery

Tuesday 1st September

💫 6–9pm | IN YOUR FACE, Steven A Hart | The Glue Factory | Until 3rd September, open daily, 12–5pm

Current Exhibitions

💫 Cathy Wilkes | The Modern Institute (Aird’s Lane) | Until 19 August, open Tuesday–Friday, 11am–6pm, and Saturday, 12–5pm

💫 Agora Opening Exhibition, group exhibition | Agora | Until 23 August, open Saturday and Sunday, 12–6pm

💫 some day this will all be crumbling ruins, David Wojnarowicz | The Modern Institute (Carlton Place) | Until 21 August, open Friday, 11am–6pm, or by appointment
- CHANGE OF CLOSING DATE! -

💫 Landscapes of Becoming, Ellis O’Connor | The Glasgow Gallery | Until 29 August, open Tuesday–Friday, 10am–5.30pm, and Saturday, 10.30am–4.30pm

💫 Sun’s Out, Alastair Kingsbury | Gulabi Gallery | Until 29 August, open Wednesday–Saturday, 10am–4pm

💫 Lughnasa, Eilidh Weir, Hank Ahmed, Sarah Karen, Jack Allan, Jess Littlewood | N.atelier | Until 1st September, open Monday–Saturday, 9am–6pm, and Sunday, 9am–4pm

💫 Abstract 2026 and Portrait 2026, Group Photography Exhibition | The Glasgow Gallery of Photography | Until 30th September, open Wednesday

💫 Hitting the Lift, Victoria Morton | The Modern Institute | Until 5 September, open Tuesday–Friday, 11am–6pm, and Saturday, 12–5pm

💫 Liquid Land, Jasmine Togo-Brisby | GoMA | Until 6 September, open Monday–Thursday and Saturday, 10am–5pm, and Friday and Saturday, 11am–5pm

💫 We Make Museums: Sustaining and Changing Worlds, Sohaila Baluch, Ruth Ewan and Alixandra Prybyla | Glasgow Women’s Library | Until 26 September, open Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, 10am–4:30pm, Thursday, 10am–7pm, and Saturday, 12–4pm

💫 Through a Mirror, Darkly, Naeem Mohaiemen | Hunterian Art Gallery | Until 11 October, open Tuesday–Saturday, 10am–5pm, and Sunday, 11am–4pm

Installation view, some day this will all be crumbling ruins, David Wojnarowicz. The Modern Institute, Carlton Place, Glasgow, 2026. Courtesy of the Artists and The Modern Institute/ Toby Webster Ltd., Glasgow. Photo: Matthew Barnes

Add your exhibition to the map!

Thanks for reading the Glasgow Art Map Newsletter!

Are you putting on your own exhibition or event? Use our online submissions form to get it featured on our online map, Instagram and in this newsletter!

Like what you’re reading? Tell your friends!

GAM xoxo

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We’re on the East coast this month for In The Studio with Edinburgh-based sculptor Jamie Fitzpatrick, on the occasion of his current exhibition, ‘Memorials to Sausage Politics’ at Edinburgh Printmakers. Chaz and Jamie talked about his sculptural practice alongside the current exhibition, as well as AI, Ballerina Farms, Britishness and dick jokes.

Happy reading!

GAM xoxo

p.s. Want to support independent arts journalism in Glasgow? Become a paid subscriber and receive a FREE weekly weekend guide!

Jamie Fitzpatrick (b. Southport, England) is a sculptor based in Edinburgh. His work addresses themes relating to privilege, ‘Britishness’, and memorialisation through the use of statuary, painting, and, more recently, printmaking. Currently, Fitzpatrick’s work ‘National Theater’ can be seen at Kunstall Trondheim in Norway until the 27th of November. ‘Memorials to Sausage Politics’ is on view at Edinburgh Printmakers, as part of Edinburgh Art Festival, until the 25th of October.

How has your work changed, if at all, with access to the larger space at Edinburgh Sculpture Workshop? Were the large scale sculptures something that you would have been doing regardless of space.

It’s changed. I mean, scale is just simply the biggest thing. When I have been making this work in other spaces, I’m limited to, and conscious of things like the infrastructure of a place and its restrictions. I have to fit through doorways. The load bearing of floors is different. Whereas Edinburgh Sculpture Workshop is a space built to accommodate sculpture and so everything is in place. When this horse sculpture here was in the mold, when you’ve got the weight of the mold and that, you’re looking at the thing being sort of close to, not weighted, I would guess sort of in the region of 300 to 400 odd kilos. We’ve got a forklift truck here that means picking that up is a piece of piss. Whereas, when you’re not in a space where you have access to those sorts of things, you have to make decisions early on that compromise that ability. So that’s essentially what it is, is that I don’t have to compromise here the sort of direction of a work based on the logistics of the building. The building is big enough to accommodate the scope and ambition of the works in a way that other spaces aren’t. And, at the risk of sounding a bit cheesy, this place is full of people that are super passionate about sculpture.

Is there a collaborative nature around everyone’s practices just by the notion of being in this shared, open air studio space? Or does it still feel quite solitary and you have the opportunity to dip in and out of collaboration if wanted and needed?

Yeah, I’ve got someone helping me on this. They are engaged in the making of these works now in a way that is very involved with the whole process from beginning to end. So there’s definitely a sense of collaboration or working towards a goal with each other. Every lunchtime, people get together and you sit and chat and I think as well, being in the courtyard and having the works out quite a lot of the time, I have overspilled out of the areas that I’m working in. But it’s just meant that there’s something kind of communal, you know, people have seen these works and seen them develop. It has been done in the open, and so therefore, everyone here is here because there’s a specificity to their interest that is about sculpture. There’s lots of people coming at it from different angles. You’ve got different materials being used, but everyone’s got their own form of expertise and it’s just really exciting being in this place.

Sitting here looking at these now, this couldn’t have been done. I mean, it’s not hyperbolic, but I don’t think this could have been done in any other place in the country, let alone just in a studio set. This place is just the ideal place for this work to be made at the moment. And so I think it’s one of the best places for me to be making work at the moment.

Talk me through the title of your show at Edinburgh Printmakers. Previously, we’ve talked about the themes that you explore in your work, but I’m interested in hearing you describe where the term ‘sausage politics’ came from.

It’s a mix of the patriarchy in an institutional and structural sense rather than necessarily a gendered sense, but it is a gendered term. And so the sausage is there, but as well, it’s that link to, like, pork and gammon and even Orwells’ power hungry pigs sort of thing. It’s addressing certain privileges, I guess. But in a silly comic way. It’s trying to hide serious ideas and serious critique behind a sort of clownishness. And yes, it sounds like a dick joke. And it’s always a dick joke, but at the same time, it’s like a dick joke with a serious point behind it. As all dick jokes do.

Obviously.

As all good dick jokes should. Obviously. It kinda catches the attention, doesn’t it? But then actually under a bit of rigour, it’s like, oh, right. Okay. Well, at least that’s what I like to think with these things.

And memorialisation is in reference to a sort of reassertion of it. I’m not really interested in the body. It’s about what the rhetoric of putting something of this shape into a civic environment says. What does it say about us when we ask that the city is filled with all these things? The historical specificity of these people that someone once thought ‘we’re important enough to be immortalized in material and placed in the city centre’ in this sort of apex place. The majority of these people are lost to this sort of common knowledge. Obviously they haven’t been lost to history, but like most people aren’t walking around being like, oh, that’s that person. They did that. They did that. All they become is this amalgamation of symbols that reassert structural, hierarchical, patriarchal and class ideologies. All it’s saying is that this is what we deem important. And who is ‘we’? ‘We’ is the ruling class. They’re there to stand over you and reassert that these ideologies are deemed, by a certain section within society, as important.

This is something that I was sort of working with at the RCA, so from 2013. Then, in 2020 when that became far more foregrounded as a global conversation. I retreated away because I didn’t feel that my voice was necessarily the important one in the room at that point. I didn’t want to seem overly opportunistic like ‘actually, guys, I’ve been working on this for five years’.

I had this piece that was called ‘Memorial of Sausage Politics’ and then when we were developing the show, I put that in as a placeholder because I’d always liked it as a title of a work. And I thought it summed it up. I left it there thinking I’ll come up with something else. And in that way that a placeholder just sits there. It sits there. And after a while, the placeholder becomes the thing. It felt quite natural.

It’s nice to have a career long enough you can reference yourself.

Go through all my old GCSE notebooks.

Highlights, deepest cuts.

B sides and deep cuts.

What role does AI play in your practice? And how do you contextualise or come to terms with this use given the broader conversations about AI and its more casual uses seeping into peoples’ day to day lives?

To be honest, it’s just this one work that I’ve used AI in. I don’t think it’s going to be a facet of the practice hugely moving forward. It was just that in the context of these works, these works being the backdrop paintings, initially it was just this idea that I’d had of these people that see themselves as these self appointed defenders of Englishness. I’ve been thinking a lot about this idea of the idealised, utopian, Arcadian landscape. It’s that sort of the way in which populism is very succinct in its ideas and it creates this idea of this Arcadian place that is yours and is worth defending. But it’s not real. This green and pleasant land, this phrase of the idealised countryside of England doesn’t really exist in a meaningful sense of, like, this place that is so dangerously defended. The idea of place becomes far stronger than the reality of place. And so I was trying to think what does this place look like?

It’s basically a pretty countryside, but with the volume turned up. It’s like a multiple that folds in on itself to this point of infinity. I was trying to find ways of rendering this place and I was looking at the way AI was being used. This language model AI was being used by populist parties as a way of promotion. They were using it within their canvas. It was being used as a way of disseminating that information. It was part of that toolbox. I think all parties are using it now. But, it is the form in which this populous language is being disseminated and utilised.

It’s not that I’m really interested in AI. I’m not interested in using it as a way of filling in the gaps of creativity. I tried to use it in a way in which it was built into the critique of this idea of how these visions are weaponised in a political sense. But will I use it again? I mean, not really unless there is a way in which the use of it is built into the criticality of the work. I don’t see it as being something that I find useful. There is something quite dangerous about the way in which it’s being used but it’s not something I’m planning on using in any sort of meaningful sense moving forward. I think it was just for this work. It sort of fitted in quite nicely in the way that I was trying to communicate.

In our last conversation as well, you were talking about how you were reading through these manifestos of white nationalists and noting the way that they would describe this idyllic, Anglo world and you were using those descriptions and inputting it into AI to get these images.

Yeah. And I think what’s interesting as well. Populism and fascism and these extremes of tradition operate on the use of beauty and appealing nature.

Do you know Ballerina Farms?

No.

They’re Mormons. Ballerina Farms is their business. The wife was a ballerina. She is married to the heir of JetBlue Airlines. They have a farm where they sell meat and raw milk, protein powder, etc. There were a couple of write ups about them, two specifically that I remember last year. They’re describing their relationship and how they got together and to someone who is maybe not Mormon or familiar with Mormon traditions or not tuned in to this growing idealization of trad wife culture, it seems quite dystopian. They have eight, nine kids and counting. She gets pregnant nearly every year.

There was this one piece in the article where she was talking about how God decides when she gets pregnant. But, the way that she described it was interesting because some people took it as her purposely taking birth control without her husband knowing to prevent her from getting pregnant at certain times, stuff like that. But their Instagram and the imagery that they put out is very homesteady, cottage-core, housewife-like. Lots of photos cooking with the kids. The home is an environment for learning and growing and the kids take part in making meals with everyone and she always has a baby on her hip. The imagery itself is very beautiful and idyllic to a certain kind of person. But the idea is that they’re pushing traditional Mormon values and you become desensitised to that underlying ideology the more that you see this imagery that is meant to propagandise you.

Exactly. I always find it funny because growing up in the nineties, something like the Chapman Brothers. Right? It’s all skulls and grubby McDonald’s and all of this. And it’s been scraped out of the waste pipes. So it’s like, that’s not how fascism presents itself. Fascism presents itself as like structure and rigor and order and values. This is kind of what I find interesting. In these painted backdrops, they look pretty boring and mundane and bucolic, and then you realize that they have been formed from the literal taking of fascistic logic and rhetoric.

There’s one of them where there’s an Edwardian regatta on the British South Coast and then you realize it’s the small boats referenced from these texts about immigration. It takes these things and it presents everything as beauty. It presents it as order. It presents it as formalised and structured. The fields are all very partitioned off and it’s structural. It’s Arcadia infinite.

Last week, I read, in America, the Trump administration was proposing to revoke passports for people, maybe men specifically, but people who don’t pay child support. This idea of controlling movement and travel. It made me think of this video by this woman, Nia Ola. I remember watching where she talks about how North America is very isolated geographically. And, because of that, it would be very easy to enclose the population if they wanted to. This proposal to revoke passports for people who don’t pay child support presents us with a recurring theme that people talk about, where they make a very drastic law or propose a very drastic punishment towards a looked down upon group of people to start. You slowly think it’s acceptable towards that isolated group, and then it happens to you. That original proposal then turns into revoking passports of people who don’t pay their student loans or medical bills. And all of this is to keep a population of people sequestered to one place. What are the ramifications of that? The Build the Wall moment of Trump’s first term. It makes it difficult for people to get in, but also for you to get out. It becomes so much more clear when you think of all these other things that they’re doing, like isolating all of these other countries, raising all of these tariffs so that nothing can get in easily or affordably.

All of these figures, the reason that they’re chosen is that all of them are basically the totemic visions of Britishness or Englishness really. King Arthur, Boudicca, Britannia, Brutus, Saint George. These are Champions League level figures of English mythology. And with each of these figures, the central idea within their stories is that they staved off an immigrant threat. You know? You can see why that is so appealing to someone that has wrapped themselves up in this idea of this sort of otherness, this the threat of the other coming over, you know? We’re an island nation. It’s like we’re fucking obsessed with fucking people coming here.

Fascism doesn’t work unless it’s attractive. That’s one of the things that, with this work, is something that I’m trying to do. There’s this very fine line where it’s one thing just to go, ‘this is bad’, but also you need to hold up the beauty next to it. I’m not trying to shout about my politics. I’m trying to get people to think about their own. And you can’t do that unless you’re having both sides presented to you. So I’ve got to present the beauty and the bad.

I respect the audience enough that they have to make that decision and there will be some people and there have been people in the past who have read them as just for the beauty. And it’s not for me to be didactic about. I think it’s quite boring just to make a work where I’m using art as a soapbox. That’s not interesting. Because these things are enticing, they’re attractive as objects, you can take away all of my critical intentions and just enjoy them as large scale sculptures.

There will be people that see them as exciting monuments to British mythology, irrespective of the fact that there is a sort of critique behind there. Likewise, there will be some people that see the backdrops just as really nice paintings and landscapes. When you are presented with the models of how these have been created and are made to think about what that is, you then start to question the attractiveness of ideas. I trust the audience enough. I don’t give them everything. They have to do a bit of work too to dig it out. I say that as if it’s a subtle work. It’s not. It’s pretty blunt. But it’s blunt to the point where maybe it’s for the viewer to sharpen the edges. I give you the long low hanging fruit, but you still have to reach up and pick it yourself.

You have been working on a lot of shows leading up to and in 2026. How has the theme of your work carried on through these different exhibitions? How do you stop the work from feeling too repetitive or monotonous from show to show?

Each show has had its own theme behind it or its own direction of interrogating a different point. It’s always that idea of looking at societal and cultural structures of power. But I guess that they’ve done it from different views. One is through an ethno-nationalistic ideology and British folk history. Another one is through civic statuary and architecture. And another one of them is through an audio work that looked at an old school songbook that I had that, when I investigated, had nationalistic intentions behind it. And it was a book that was still in circulation and was there to uphold structures of cultural hierarchies related to Britishness.

All of these projects support each other on a critical level, but they’re coming at the imagery, the source material, everything is slightly different. And I guess that stops it becoming too samey. Although the sculpture is the sort of main thrust of the practice, there’s music, there’s sound, there’s painting, that, you know, there’s other aspects of the practice. It feels like there’s quite a distinct nature to each of the shows. There hasn’t felt like there’s too much bleeding across the lanes, which I think has also just been helpful for me in terms of, like these quite clear ideas.

I’ve had, for three of the projects, three separate notebooks that I’ve been working in. Early on, it was quite clear that these things needed to be separated. If I worked in one homogenous way, it was going to get quite muddy. And so I’ve been quite clear on separating them out across the last year or so since I’ve been working on them. That’s helped keep an identity to each show.

In what ways do your paintings and drawings accompany your sculptural practice? Does one serve as a draft for the other? Do you see them as two completely separate works and entities from each other?

The print, so that came out of a residency I did at the printmakers a couple of years ago, two or three years ago maybe. Probably more. 2022.

That was pretty straight up. So the way that I’ve always made sculpture is that I will start with just printing off lots of imagery. Just tons of everything that’s been in my head, I’ll print it off, I cut it out, and I start making collages out of it. And, you know, that’s why they’ve got these sort of jaggedy, broken sort of things because they’ve been built in that way. These were really cheap prints and they would just get disposed of because they were functional. They weren’t really drawings. And then there was this idea of, actually, there’s something there that is worth drawing out. And so it was about using printmaking and screen printing to sort of make these into things that would have a bit more value, not in a monetary way, but that they were just a bit nicer as works. And so the printmaker show is sort of a continuation of that and the prints on the wall will be screen printed, cut up, and collaged.

I use printmaking in a really inefficient way. I basically make one print. It’s much more like using print to collage and make a painting rather than using it as print. Early on ,when I was experimenting, I tried to make the collages in Photoshop and do multiple prints and they totally lacked that immediacy.

For this show, the sculptures are trying to show the continuation of using printmaking to develop the idea that then turns into the sculpture. So two of the sculptures will be two of the prints rendered up.

But it doesn’t always work like that?

It doesn’t always work like that but it tends to. Usually they are just cheap photocopies and they’ll get binned. They won’t be turned into works. But I think there’s something in printmaking and the idea of sculpture and printmaking being the two art forms that are most associated with ideas of ideological propaganda.

Sculpture has at its roots in quite an authoritarian tradition behind it, you know. It’s an object of authority. And likewise, the print in a much more disposable way, it’s a way of propagating ideology, isn’t it? The world changed when print was able to do that. And so I guess that there is that link in the show. I’m embodying little bits of print into the sculptures in a way that I wouldn’t normally do with other works. But it’s still very much looking at how that works.

What determines your colour palette? How do you decide whether to paint something or leave as is or have it as one monochrome colour?

It’s pretty bad. It’s done pretty last minute. I wait until the sculpture’s out. In the past, I’ve painted the sculptures up. So the early sculptures were really colourful and they would sometimes correspond to the object that they were. So they looked a bit coloured in. As I’ve scaled up, I’ve sort of felt like the more that I use colour, the less they read as objects. And for me, the surface of the work and that sort of tension between this violence in the making and then this sort of, you know, that there are sort of parts that are refined, there are parts that are that are lovingly detailed, there are parts that are far more aggressive and that trace of making and there’s big hand swipes or boots in there. It’s this idea about the beauty and the violence being held up all as one.

When something is just one colour, you read it far more sculpturally and you focus on the surface of the work more than you do maybe when it’s coloured in. So with these ones, I took a skin reading, a tonal reading of my skin. And again, it’s that sort of ethno-nationalistic sort of, pink marble.

The whole idea is that these figures that these myths are based on are used as a sort of gotcha, like I can trace my family back. You know what I mean? It’s this idea of an indigenous superiority that people have. You never see Saint George tatted on anything but pink skin.

These figures are beloved because they seem to hark back to a tradition of preservation of Englishness. And so it felt like they’re going to have to be in a colour. Again, it’s sort of the low hanging fruit. Once you realise, oh, yeah, that’s what he’s done, it’s sort of a bit fairly obvious. But at the same time, without that explanation, it’s like there’s just a really nice color to see sculpture in. And this idea of it being both beautiful and really sinister and horrible at the same time.

Talk me through just the process of making these large scale sculptures? We’ve talked about the way that collage plays into it. But when you’re actually starting on the sculpture, what is the process?

I make a rough form out of old bits of polystyrene that I’ve got basically. And some of them are from an old polystyrene mannequin. Some of them are just lumps of polystyrene, like bits of old expanding foam. I literally get a rough shape in and that’ll be where I start. I’m mostly looking back to those drawings and collages. And then I just start sculpting over them.

I’m not really interested hugely in leaving the mannequin exposed, but then there are bits that you can see in some of them. Like the polystyrene’s been cast and it just looks like a block of polystyrene that’s been painted. So there are bits that are exposed. Then I’ll sculpt in clay over that so that the whole thing will generally be covered in clay. And when I say sculpt, we’re using a loose term. Sometimes it is just a lump of clay. Then I’ll take a cast of that. We’re talking about big old casts. And then the material which is basically a type of concrete is painted on the inside and then it’s put together like a big old jig saw essentially and then reconstituted. So these casts are hollow. They’re probably only about like an inch thick. And then they’re just painted up. I say that as if it’s just bang bang bang. It’s pretty time consuming. But it’s essentially just build it, take it apart, build it again.

How long would you say? Like a month? Like three months?

I would say to get this amount of work made in November is sort of breakneck speed. And I’ve had help. I’ve not been on my own doing this. I think to do this in the amount of time it’s been done, it’s sort of ludicrous. I wouldn’t normally work at this speed. But it’s a pretty lengthy process. I think you would normally give yourself a good year to sort of do something on scale. But I was very lucky. I got a bit of Creative Scotland funding that enabled me to access help and access materials and processes that speed things up. Because of that, we were able to get everything done in time. But, generally, it’s pretty full on.

I think one of the things I’ve learned from this year is calendar management. It’s maybe something I need to have a bit more focus on. But it’s that thing, isn’t it? Like, when they come in, no one’s saying no to an opportunity. And when they go, this is the slot we’ve got you for, it’s like, it’s only three weeks between that and the other one. You’re not going to go, do you know what? Actually, I might not do this show. You just make it work.

—

In the Studio is a monthly series interviewing Scotland-based artists and curators in their studios, conducted by Chaz Scott, a curator and art historian based between Baltimore, Maryland and Glasgow, Scotland.

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We’re here to help you beat the Monday blues, with your fortnightly GAM newsletter! With these exhibitions, workshops, events, film screenings and publication launches, at least you can make the most of this dreich weather…

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EDINBURGH ART MAP: THANK YOU!

Firstly, a MASSIVE THANK YOU to everyone who has supported, shared, and donated to our new EDINBURGH ART MAP project! Thanks to you, we’ve unlocked over £3,400 of Creative Edinburgh funding to support the development of our project. With the website underway, your donations are already helping Edinburgh Art Map to become a reality. The crowdfunder will remain open for donations, so there’s still time to get involved and support Edinburgh’s creative community <3

Stay tuned for the OFFICIAL WEBSITE LAUNCH at EMBASSY Gallery in Leith on 6 September. We can’t wait to see you there!

WHAT’S ON?

Submit your exhibition/event to our online map or email us if you’d like us to promote something in this newsletter!!

Monday 3rd August

💫 2pm | A Vivid Confluence: Tiânn, curated by Franzine (Yen-Ju) Chen, with work by Amara Karapas, Bo-Cheng Huang, Rho McGuire, Hsu Yuan-Cheng | Civic House | Until 4 August, open Monday, 1–5pm (with live performance at 2pm), and Tuesday, 10am–3pm

💫 6–8pm | Gathering Paths: A fragmented exhibition on talking about graphic design, Beth Xia | Salt Space | Until 9 August, open Tuesday–Sunday, 12–6pm

Thursday 6th August

💫 6–7:30 | Modular Memory (Film Screening), Timoteus Anggawan Kusno, Shireen Seno, Bart Seng Wen Long, Prapat Jiwarangsan, Kifu Taufiqurrahman and Hattie Wade | The Vic Bar

💫 6–8pm | Floating upwards, Sarah Kasumi, Jungyoon Im, San Zhang | Crownpoint Studios | Until 9 August, open Friday–Sunday, 11am–5pm

Friday 7th August

💫 5–9pm | Lughnasa, Eilidh Weir, Hank Ahmed, Sarah Karen, Jack Allan, Jess Littlewood | N.atelier | Until 1 September, open Monday–Sunday, 9am–6pm, and
Sunday, 9am–4pm

💫 6–8pm | AS IT IS | 如是 | 여여, Subin Gang, Tilly Johnson, Ruby Yujia Zhai | Grace and Clark Fyfe Gallery, Bourdon Building at The Glasgow School of Art | Exhibition open Friday, 12–8pm, with a performance at 6:30pm, and Saturday, 10–3pm. Outdoor participatory workshop in Glasgow Green on Saturday from 4–6pm.

💫 6–9pm | To become 2: Arming Oneself - Open Studios, L. Camus Grovoroff and Eden Dodd. Curated by Flora Fettah | David Dale Gallery Warehouse

💫 6–9pm | Broken Heart Syndrome Publication Launch, Anna Koutsafis with Anna Lawrence, Dakotah Weeks-Murphree, Fionn Duffy, Olivia Wiles | David Dale Gallery

Saturday 8th August

💫 12–4pm | International Photography Exhibition: Portrait 2026 and Abstract 2026 | The Glasgow Gallery of Photography | Until 30 August, open Wednesday–Sunday, 12–4pm, and Saturday, 11am–4pm

Sunday 9th August

💫 11am–5pm | Southside Publishing Trail 2026, Inkling Glasgow, Category is Books, Glasgow Zine Library, Greater Govanhill, Burning House Books, Pluto Q Community Reading Room, Roma Voice, Rumpus Room

Sunday 16th August

💫 3pm | Daydream Nation Birthday! , Stuart White, Emily Waddington, Maya Randall, Stanley Miller, Abi Tucker, Dal Park, Alix Bortoli, Lorna Gallagher, Sam Chapman, Rory Waudby-Tolley, Rosanna Wan, Maggie Lawson, Nikita Diakur, Piotr Kabat, Tim Romanowsky, Lilli Carré, Nespy5€uro, Ben Woodcock, Angela Kirkwood, Kate Russel, Ruby O’Hare, Ross Hogg, Jenny Jokela, Wiesia Ruta, Edwin Rostron, Susannah Stark, Genevieve Dawson, Jamie Temple, Karolina Glusiec | The Rum Shack

Want to know what art stuff is happening every weekend?! Become a paid subscriber for £5/month to get our weekly newsletter every Thursday!

Current Exhibitions

💫 Annual Summer Nature Exhibition, Ellie Forestal-Smith, Amy Sandler, Louise Schmid, Sophia Kalmijn, Susanna Carlotta, Kirsty Reid, Emma Carrau, Olivia Ross, Anne Molleskov, Bianca Patania, Saul Auty, Jie Zhang, Evie Robinson | N.atelier | Until 4 August, open Monday–Saturday, 9am–6pm, and Sunday, 9am–4pm

💫 I wish I was in Glasgow, Dee Elegia, Frankie Ashworth, Jacqueline Houston, Ollie Innes, Ruaridh Law, John Kingston, Alan Dimmick, Amy Iona, Elizabeth Riddell, Jenny Gordon | New Glasgow Society | Until 4 August, open daily, 12–5pm

💫 Afterlives: The Weaver, A Chorus, An Archipelago, Gogularaajan Rajendran, Erika Tan and Elia Nurvista | Reid Gallery at The Glasgow School of Art | Until 8 August, open Monday–Saturday, 10am–4:30pm

💫 Celebrating the Design Journey: Commonwealth Games Medals at The Glasgow School of Art, Jonathan Boyd, Militsa Milenkova and Callum Rice | Window on Heritage, Reid Building at The Glasgow School of Art | Until 8 August, open Monday–Saturday, 10am–4:30pm

💫 My heart is drenched in blood! My heart is drenched in blood!, Jericho Mars | Until 9 August, open Wednesday–Friday and Sunday, 12–5pm, and Saturday, 12–6pm

💫 •~TUA~• 大眼 •~MAK~•, Rae-Yen Song 宋瑞渊 | Tramway | Until 15 August, open Wednesday–Friday and Sunday, 12–5pm, and Saturday, 12–6pm

💫 Cathy Wilkes | The Modern Institute (Aird’s Lane) | Until 19 August, open Tuesday–Friday, 11am–6pm, and Saturday, 12–5pm

💫 Agora Opening Exhibition, group exhibition | Agora | Until 23 August, open Saturday and Sunday, 12–6pm

💫 some day this will all be crumbling ruins, David Wojnarowicz | The Modern Institute (Carlton Place) | Until 28 August, open Friday, 11am–6pm, or by appointment

💫 Landscapes of Becoming, Ellis O’Connor | The Glasgow Gallery | Until 29 August, open Tuesday–Friday, 10am–5.30pm, and Saturday, 10.30am–4.30pm

💫 Sun’s Out, Alastair Kingsbury | Gulabi Gallery | Until 29 August, open Wednesday–Saturday, 10am–4pm

💫 Hitting the Lift, Victoria Morton | The Modern Institute | Until 5 September, open Tuesday–Friday, 11am–6pm, and Saturday, 12–5pm

💫 Liquid Land, Jasmine Togo-Brisby | GoMA | Until 6 September, open Monday–Thursday and Saturday, 10am–5pm, and Friday and Saturday, 11am–5pm

💫 We Make Museums: Sustaining and Changing Worlds, Sohaila Baluch, Ruth Ewan and Alixandra Prybyla | Glasgow Women’s Library | Until 26 September, open Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, 10am–4:30pm, Thursday, 10am–7pm, and Saturday, 12–4pm

💫 Through a Mirror, Darkly, Naeem Mohaiemen | Hunterian Art Gallery | Until 11 October, open Tuesday–Saturday, 10am–5pm, and Sunday, 11am–4pm

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Your weekly guide is coming in hot… with all the details you need for a great weekend, plus some dates for next week’s diary!

BUT FIRST… your FINAL CALL to donate to our Edinburgh Art Map Crowdfunder!

Putting on an exhibition or event that you’d like us to feature on the map? Get in touch with us at info@glasgowartmap.com, or fill out our submissions form!

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EDINBURGH ART MAP: FINAL CALL ‼️

Our crowdfunder for Edinburgh Art Map has one week left! We have now reached over 90% of our target, thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has supported this project. The website is now underway and will launch on 6th September, and WE CAN’T WAIT!

We just need one final push! Please spread the word to help us meet the target and access Creative Scotland match funding. If you or someone you know hasn’t donated yet, now is the time! <33

What’s on this weekend?

Our top tips for your weekend of art and art-adjacent activity in Glasgow…

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Very buzzed to be publishing this review of John Wood at Celine written by Toby Üpson. It’s the last week to catch the show, open Saturday Saturdays, 12–5 pm, or by appointment, email Celine to book: contact@galleryceline.com.

Enjoy the read, don’t miss the show!

GAM xoxo

p.s. Interested in writing reviews for Glasgow Art Map? Get in touch!

John Wood
Celine
11.07 - 02.08.2026

The photographs in John Wood’s exhibition at Celine are black and white, mostly. Their subjects straightforward: hunky men in states of undress, the occasional willy dangling proud. Un-pornographic, sans illustrative gest, these images celebrate intimacy, demonstrating Wood’s to be an art that speaks across generations.

There is not much information out there about the Wood. Born in 1947, I want to suggest he’s something of a Glasgow Boy; a lifelong Glaswegian, his work driven by realism and the narratives which might entangle a figure. The exhibition’s press release mentions that Wood started making photos as a teenager, with his ‘practice becoming more serious’ once he embraced the medium-format––a film format larger than 35mm, prized for its high resolution. Wood’s studio portraits attest to this quality. Here, figures flash free from white grounds, inviting us into revel with the cheekery they depict. In Roberto and Andrew 1996 (1996), for example, the gaze of the couple embracing welcomes us as potential participants of this courting scene––who will have their nipples tweaked next? Inversely, positioned next to these white images, leather men emerge from shadows, thick, dewy and black, evocatively dominating us through their averted looks. The sitter in September 1994 (1994) is a top for sure; with his eyes turned towards his veined member, the photo begets body tingles––a mix of anxiety and anticipation, the stuff of a sweaty night (to get carried away).

These portraits are not about the sitter as an object, innately self-contained, the stuff of commercial photography. They testify to how a subject is born through layers of relation, felt or desired. The staging of such an interplay proves Wood’s filmic credentials. More so, with each photograph pointing towards a narrative held in the subject’s pose, these images position Wood as a true artist; concerned with the feeling ignited through his work.

The formalities of the exhibition’s making accentuate Wood’s artistic sensibility. Curated by Glasgow-based artist, researcher and lecturer in Fine Art at City of Glasgow College Steven Grainger, the photographs have been selected in conversation with Wood from his ‘extensive archive’ of such imagery. The first time artworks from this archive have been shared publicly, the pair knew what they were doing with this show, framing Wood as a refined maker of photographs, not some Saturday night snapper. This delineation seems important; Wood is something of an outside figure to the rigmarole of the art world, with his artistic being constituted by human connections and not by a tick list of exhibitions. It’s of note that Wood often worked in ‘duplicate’, creating two copies of his photos, one of which he gave to his sitters and one that he kept safe for himself. The setting of Celine, an artist-run space in a private residence, seems fitting in this regard; with its filler-speckled walls, the gallery stands in stark contrast to normative white cube settings, referencing all the art that once called this place its temporary home.

This gentle move into the public also suits Wood’s practice, his subject matter, and the motivations birthing these images. Opting––or rather having––to make his photographs from his flat in Hyndland, Wood’s art has an honest crispness––the speckled grain of 35mm is forgone in favour of the smoothness made possible through medium-format photography. Read as metaphor, this formal clarity pays testament to the personal relationships that have guided the selection of the exhibited work. Each of the photos displayed depicts a member (pun intended) of Wood’s ‘extended network’––his friends and lovers, as well as residents or those visiting Glasgow fleetingly––souls who resonated with him and who have shared the fact of his being. The two smallest photographs in the exhibition evidence this. Unlike his studio portraits, Self portrait (c. 1985) and Cal (c. 1982) show their sitters within a domestic space, respectively, before a bathroom cabinet, topped with at least 10 bottles of perfume (a detail I had to note), and leaning nonchalant next to a sideboard housing the artist’s vinyl collection.

A bathroom mirror snap and a Polaroid, Self portrait and Cal seem like the most unstaged photographs in this exhibition. And yet they hold so much of the interplay Wood works into the other images seen––we have an occluded gaze (Self portrait) and one which steams out of chemical sheen (Cal), a gesture towards undress (Self portrait) and one provocatively erotic (Cal). Here, that is, as self rhymes with another, we materially witness the intimacy core to Wood’s art––how his practice has been ‘shaped by his connection with his sitters’, the trust they place in him as they make themselves vulnerable to his camera, as well as how his chosen photographic medium shapes how this relation finds form. In attuning to such human feeling, Wood’s art speaks to me, someone almost 50 years his junior, as a moment of celebration. A vital moment that is; one of joy, one longed for, one which often follows a period of darkness or struggle which many people have and continue to face. I hope I don’t have to explain the importance of such moments for those courting a life queer.

Toby Üpson is a writer based in Glasgow.

Images: Installation view, John Wood, Celine, 2026. Photo credit: Patrick Jameson.

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Breaking news! We’re devastated to hear about the impending sale of 350 Sauchiehall Street, previous home to CCA and The Third Eye Centre – follow Save Our CCA for updates and how to get involved in the campaign.

For this month’s column, Mount Jupiter gives us rundown of the CCA history and current completely dire situation. Like, subscribe, and share share share to spread the news about Creative Scotland’s shameless selling off of our vital creative spaces!

Besos,
GAM xoxoxo

A whole vibe tbh

Mount Jupiter Reports #8: Centre for Constant Agonies

Before it became the Centre for Contemporary Arts or even the Third Eye Centre, 350 Sauchiehall Street was home to a wallpaper warehouse, where rolls of patterned frippery lay in waiting to disguise cracked plaster and other deformities across the city of Glasgow. Its late years as the CCA might also be imagined as a site full of surface treatments, of thinning membranes struggling to hold back certain collapse.

As the story goes, the more destructive second Mackintosh Building fire—which claimed casualties in the much-cherised ABC venue and the much-feared Jumpin Jaks nightclub—forced the neighbouring CCA into a months-long closure in 2018. Speculation remains on whether a clandestine wax-melting soirée hosted by self-promoter and womanboss Muriel Gray on the premises (think Eyes Wide Shut) was really to blame. Before they’d really recovered, COVID-19 lockdowns hit and socio-financial issues compounded through the following trauma-brained miasma in which everyone was quite horrid to one another for some years. By then, many of the cultural tenants who paid rent to the organisation had vanished.

In 2023, hospitality workers mounted a wildcat strike against Saramago—the independent tenant of CCA’s café and bar, named unironically after communist writer José Saramago. The ensuing dispute forced a severance of contract, leaving the art centre with diminished amenities and a dwindling footfall. At the end of that year, director of nearly two decades Francis McKee left and the post was never permanently filled—following a much longer trend in non-filling and redistributing executive and curatorial capacity which had already ground the centralised programme to near standstill.

Returning to the scene of the crime?

In an attempt to stem outgoings, the entire centre closed in December 2024, securing £3.4 million in Multi-Year Funding from Creative Scotland the following month and reopening in April 2025. It would shutter again not two months later following the board and interim director’s catastrophic mishandling of Art Workers for Palestine protestors who called upon the organisation to join the cultural boycott of Israel. On its last legs, the CCA entered liquidation in January 2026. All its staff were made redundant. The plants are dead, the archive is arrested.

In the public autopsy, it has become easiest to shift blame to certain unstoppable forces majeure or the ill-defined boogeymen of management and power. A far less popular take would also recognise the interrelated apathy, overwork and underexperience which characterised the CCA’s last years, pulling it ever-further away from the considerations of would-be collaborators (and hirers), let alone the heady dreams of internationalism and experimentation that once defined the Third Eye Centre. Its gift was once a centralising energy, depleted steadily by events named here alongside more diffuse injuries not limited to the post-pandemic evacuation of the city centre. Though few dare admit, the quality of its cultural offer stands firmly amongst those.

So dilapidated is the tradition of critique in Glasgow that a commentary on ‘quality’ might seem like violence. In the role of CCA’s collapse, some have indeed pointed to the external pressure of criticism—of the so-felt noxious discourses of activists and… online trolls—but disenchantment is rarely welcome by those under the spell. Latent controversies, willfully ignored, are not the creation of those who recognise them. Criticism is not harm, conflict is not abuse.

In fragility, we see backdoors opening to purported solutions which smuggle bad or unqualified actors (MJR#1) and dangerous structures (MJR#5) into a panicked system. This is a microcosm of what Naomi Klein named the shock doctrine two decades ago, wherein crises of existential consequence effect a relaxation of regulations and long-held standards, providing cover for the migration of power from public to private hands. In the perilous hour, consultants, charlatans and commercial landlords pose solutions that easily seduce.

That, unfortunately, leads us to the events now unfolding. Whisper quiet, building owners Creative Scotland have contracted property consultants to manage a call for interest in the letting or sale of 350 Sauchiehall Street, published on 23 July 2026, leaving parties with an insult of just three weeks’ notice to assemble proposals through the August period traditionally reserved for summer closures. With a cultural future being protected by little more than ‘client’s preference’, this disingenuous and shrunken process ensures that no public input will be solicited, nor can any serious coalition form to develop an adequate, costed business case. A fire sale in waiting, this decision disgraces fifty years of public investment in the ownership, maintenance, renovation, and life-affirming alchemy of the site.

Pre-emptive propositions for reuse have already been publicised in appeal to both the general public and Creative Scotland to indulge a popularity competition with no clear rules. A group of well-meaning theatre-makers headed by Vanishing Point first pitched to co-habitate in the building, reviving it as a public centre for theatrical production. Largely overlooking the myriad existing facilities for theatre-makers, including… the largest performing arts festival in the world being located 45 minutes away, the cohort seem to have vanquished the visual arts and film from their utopia of annoying peoples.

Early onset dementia? Boomers fail to learn from the closure of Sheffield’s National Centre for Popular Music after seventeen months.

Much much worse is the mausoleum to boomer nostalgia being imagineered by ScotsRock, a well-financed and media-ready organisation with no history whatsoever (registered with OSCR on 26 June 2026), who have found willing patronage in national cringe-inducers not limited to Midge Ure and Lulu. Privatisation backed exclusively by credulous expats in the guise of public good, the Jock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame promises little more than the fossilisation of the living culture—£22.50 for adults, over 65s go free—until inevitable mismanagement and collapse 18 months later when the largest unit amongst Alexander ‘Greek’ Thomson’s Grecian Chambers might be scooped up by a commercial landlord and repurposed as Scotland’s emptiest vape superstore and aspiring insurance claim. Relight my fire!

With the fate of our Sauchiehall Street agora hanging in the balance, we need the scrutiny of pedants and protestors more than ever. The professed remit of Creative Scotland is to support ‘the arts, screen and creative industries across all parts of Scotland on behalf of everyone who lives, works or visits here.’ Anything other than an about turn on this offensive call for interest and a commitment to employing a transparent, democratic and visionary process in the name of restitution will represent a failure of this fundamental duty and should, MoJu believes, result in the dismissal of the entire board. Remember that vampires—consultants, charlatans, and Lulu inclusive—need only need a willing invite to cross the threshold.

💫

Got art world issues?

MoJu will give you answers: mount.jupiter.conspiracy@gmail.com

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Happy Monday! Here comes your fortnightly newsletter… this one’s packed to bursting with previews, exhibitions, club nights, record launches, and MORE! Don’t miss out… get these dates in your diary NOW!

Also: a FINAL CALL for submissions for Glasgow Art Weekend 2026, and a REMINDER about the Edinburgh Art Map crowdfunder.

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FINAL CALL: Glasgow Art Weekend 🚨🚨

From 17-20 September, we’ll be showcasing contemporary art across the whole of Glasgow!

If you are putting on an exhibition or event over this weekend and want to be involved, please let us know by Monday 27th July! Email details to: info@glasgowartmap.com

REMINDER: Donate to the Edinburgh Art Map Crowdfunder! 🗺️ 🗺️

A massive THANK YOU to everyone who has donated to Edinburgh Art Map so far! 💗 We are blown away by your support and have now reached 80% of our target, with 18 days to go! So, if you haven’t already, please share with any colleagues, friends and family that may be interested in donating. We are so excited to get Edinburgh Art Map underway, and look forward to giving you more updates soon!

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WHAT’S ON?

Submit your exhibition/event to our online map or email us if you’d like us to promote something in this newsletter!!

Kimberley Bright, Which Sentient Blob Are You Today?, Oil on canvas, 100 x 60cm. Photo: Josh Wirz.

Monday 20th July

💫 7:30pm | Under Gemini: record launch/listening, Sudden Wealth with Jason Dodge, Noelle Kocot | The Doublet Bar

Tuesday 21st July

💫 4–8:30pm |Other Worlds: Poetry and Thoughts in the Age of AI, Xiye Lyn, Yixian Li, Zijian Chen, Jie Shuai | Garage Space, Glasgow School of Art | Continues Wednesday, 11am–7pm | Free tickets via eventbrite

Friday 24th July

💫 5–11pm | Staying Alive, Jamie Scott-Dyson | New Glasgow Society | Until 25 July, open Saturday, 10am–6pm

💫 6–9pm | Everyday colours, Anna Tewungwa, Dora Padfield | End Studios | Until 30 July, open Saturday and Sunday, 11am–5pm, and Monday–Thursday, by appointment

💫 6–9pm | Floral Fantasy Finale, curated by Brooke Hailey Hoffert | Berloga Gallery | Continues 25 and 26 July, by appointment.

💫 7–10:30pm | Collections of Collections (Vol .1), curated by Bjorn Blakstad. Mimi Bhogal, Seweryna Dudzinska, Carmen Garcia-Ferres Orellana, Mia Gwenllian, John Kingston, Finn Lafferty, Ethan Logan, Carly Morrison, Sydney Smith, Frank Waterton | The Glad Cafe

Monday 27th July

💫 5–8pm | Infern(a), Hannah Peddie Miller, Carly Morrison, Poppy Littlemore, Scarlet Aylmer, Louise Baines | The Red Door Club | Until 30 July, open daily, 3–8pm

Wednesday 29th July

💫 11am–6pm | The Uncanny: What Remains, curated by Lili Xue. Subin Gang and Rebecca Rae | CPCA Studio, Barnes Building at The Glasgow School of Art | Until Saturday 1 August, open Wedesday–Saturday, 11am–6pm

Thursday 30th July

💫 19:30-00:00 | RITES: a night of embodied performance and sound, Pat Riarchy, <body, Eden Dodd, Samm ANGA, vnc.ptk, Shawn Nayar | Stereo | Fundraiser for Glasgow Trans Collective, tickets available on RA

Saturday 1st August

💫 11am–2pm | Landscapes of Becoming, Ellis O’Connor | The Glasgow Gallery | Until 29 August, open Tuesday–Friday, 10am–5.30pm, and Saturday, 10.30am–4.30pm

Want to know what art stuff is happening every weekend?! Become a paid subscriber for £5/month to get our weekly newsletter every Thursday!

Current Exhibitions

💫 mum sends me a note, with some cuttings, and other things she’s remembered, Thulani Rachia & Hayden Ryan | End Studios | Until 21 July, open Monday and Tuesday, 10am–5pm

💫 Portrait of a City, Dean Sameshima | 5b | Until 25 July, open Wednesday–Saturday, by appointment

💫 East End Open, Mike Hill, Samantha Wilson, Filip Velkovski, Madeline Mackay, olesya ilenok, Sofya Mikhaylova, Kimberley Bright, Cora Weiss, Iona Jones, Rebecca Laverty, Oscar Marcus Boyle & medb | Horsepower | Until 26 July, open Friday and Saturday, 12–6pm, or by appointment

💫 Onwards, Little Book Transfers | Grateful Gallery | Until 26 July, open Wednesday - Saturday 11am-6pm, and Sunday, 11am–5pm

💫 Nature 2026 and Future Days 2026, International Photography Group Exhibition | The Glasgow Gallery of Photography | Until 31 July, open Wednesday–Friday and Sunday, 12–4pm, and Saturday, 11am–4pm

💫 What are These Women On About, Anna Burgess, Aj Duncan, Seania Strain | Mono | Until 31 July, open Monday–Saturday, 11am–10pm, and Sunday, 12–10pm

💫 Holding Ground, Matthew Arthur Williams | The Alasdair Gray Archive | Until 31 July, open Wednesday–Friday, 10am–5pm

💫 Painting, our mutual friend, Andrew Cranston and Lorna Robertson | Glasgow Print Studio | Until 1 August, open Monday–Saturday, 10am–5:30pm

💫 John Wood | Celine Gallery | Until 2 August, open Saturday, 12–5pm, and by appointment: contact@galleryceline.com

💫 Transmission Members Show | Transmission Gallery | Until 2 August, open daily, 2–6pm

💫 Annual Summer Nature Exhibition, Ellie Forestal-Smith, Amy Sandler, Louise Schmid, Sophia Kalmijn, Susanna Carlotta, Kirsty Reid, Emma Carrau, Olivia Ross, Anne Molleskov, Bianca Patania, Saul Auty, Jie Zhang, Evie Robinson | N.atelier | Until 4 August, open Monday–Saturday, 9am–6pm, and Sunday, 9am–4pm

💫 Afterlives: The Weaver, A Chorus, An Archipelago, Gogularaajan Rajendran, Erika Tan and Elia Nurvista | Reid Gallery at The Glasgow School of Art | Until 8 August, open Monday–Saturday, 10am–4:30pm

💫 Celebrating the Design Journey: Commonwealth Games Medals at The Glasgow School of Art, Jonathan Boyd, Militsa Milenkova and Callum Rice | Window on Heritage, Reid Building at The Glasgow School of Art | Until 8 August, open Monday–Saturday, 10am–4:30pm

💫 My heart is drenched in blood! My heart is drenched in blood!, Jericho Mars | Until 9 August, open Wednesday–Friday and Sunday, 12–5pm, and Saturday, 12–6pm

💫 •~TUA~• 大眼 •~MAK~•, Rae-Yen Song 宋瑞渊 | Tramway | Until 15 August, open Wednesday–Friday and Sunday, 12–5pm, and Saturday, 12–6pm

💫 Cathy Wilkes | The Modern Institute (Aird’s Lane) | Until 19 August, open Tuesday–Friday, 11am–6pm, and Saturday, 12–5pm

💫 some day this will all be crumbling ruins, David Wojnarowicz | THe Modern Institute (Carlton Place) | Until 28 August, open Friday, 11am–6pm, or by appointment

💫 Hitting the Lift, Victoria Morton | The Modern Institute | Until 5 September, open Tuesday–Friday, 11am–6pm, and Saturday, 12–5pm

💫 Agora Opening Exhibition, 30+ Artists | Agora | Until 23 August, open Saturday and Sunday, 12–6pm

💫 Liquid Land, Jasmine Togo-Brisby | GoMA | Until 6 September, open Monday–Thursday and Saturday, 10am–5pm, and Friday and Saturday, 11am–5pm

💫 We Make Museums: Sustaining and Changing Worlds, Sohaila Baluch, Ruth Ewan and Alixandra Prybyla | Glasgow Women’s Library | Until 26 September, open Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, 10am–4:30pm, Thursday, 10am–7pm, and Saturday, 12–4pm

💫 Through a Mirror, Darkly, Naeem Mohaiemen | Hunterian Art Gallery | Until 11 October, open Tuesday–Saturday, 10am–5pm, and Sunday, 11am–4pm

Live music set from medb on the opening night of the East End Open, Horsepower, July 2026.

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Because the sun is shining, because we love you all, a free weekly guide for everyone! Here are this week’s hot tickets and exhibitions closing soon, BUT FIRST, GLASGOW ART WEEKEND 2026 NEWS!

And, AGAIN, a link to our new Crowdmatch campaign to help us make an EDINBURGH ART MAP! PLEASE DONATE!!

Putting on an exhibition or event that you’d like us to feature on the map? Get in touch with us at info@glasgowartmap.com, or fill out our submissions form!

Bisous,
GAM xoxoxo

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GLASGOW ART WEEKEND IS BACK!

From 17-20 September, building on the success of our Southside Art Weekend last year, we’ll be celebrating Glasgow’s artistic community with exhibitions and events across the whole city!

After an initial call out earlier this year, we have just launched a final call for projects taking place over the weekend! To get involved and let us know about your exhibition/performance night/publication launch/film screening/etc., please email: info@glasgowartmap.com.

Help us to make Edinburgh Art Map!

We have just launched a Crowdmatch campaign with Creative Scotland to help develop a new Edinburgh Art Map.

We’re so excited to be working with Embassy Gallery in Leith as a host organisation for the new map! Donations to this Crowdmatch fundraiser will help to fund a new website and the publication of our first printed Edinburgh Art Map.

Whether you’re a GAM user, an Edinburgh local, an artist or a gallery, this project is for you! Even a small donation would be hugely appreciated and help us towards building a resource to support Edinburgh creatives. <3

Donate here!

Strategies for Sustaining the Artist Run Space – with Frieda Ford

What’s on this week(end)?

Our top tips for your weekend of art and art-adjacent activity in Glasgow…

Wednesday 15th July
💫 A new book launching tonight at Broadside in connection with Mayday Rooms and Material: For Peace! Based on physical exhibitions at Glasgow Women’s Library and Four Corners (London) mounted in the Spring/Summer of 2025.

Friday 17th July
💫 New space Berloga Gallery are presenting a solo show by Cora Weiss tonight, 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵: 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦! Opening 6-9pm and running through the weekend, open Saturday – Sunday, 12–5pm

💫 THE TRANSMISSION MEMBERS’ SHOW IS BACK!! Opening 6-9pm tonight on King Street, with performances from 7pm. Continues until 2nd August, open daily 2–6pm.

💫 Then! A Friday Night of Solo Performances at The Old Hairdressers from Onat Önol, Michael Kasparis, Craggyland and Gable Sable.

Saturday 18th July + Sunday 19th July
💫 Artist-led organising your kind of thing? Head to Market Gallery for a two day workshop, Strategies for Sustaining the Artist Run Space run by Frieda Ford.

Installation view, A moment of darkness at noon, Joanna Piotrowska, The Common Guild, 2026. Photo: Eoin Carey.

Run, don’t walk!

The following exhibitions close soon…

💫 Closing Saturday 18th! A moment of darkness at noon, Joanna Piotrowska, The Common Guild. Open Thursday–Saturday, 12–5pm.

💫 Closing Sunday 19th! Profoundly Moving, Jenny Hogarth, Govan Project Space. Open Saturday and Sunday, 12-4pm, and by appointment.

💫 Closing Friday 17th! Signals & Echoes, Gori Mora & James Rigler. Open Wednesday–Saturday, 12–6pm

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In the Studio: Tulani Hlalo

Tulani Hlalo (b. Newcastle, England) is a mixed media artist based in Glasgow. Hlalo works primarily with moving image, costuming, installation and textiles to address themes of personal identity, surrealism and humour. Her most recent series of work explores competitive dog grooming shows through the making of colourful tufted rugs that double as costumes, shown alongside video works and sculpture. Hlalo represented SOUP at Feria Material in Mexico City earlier this year, featuring similar works from her show Silly Bitch at SOUP in 2025. Hlalo currently has work presented in the Limburg Biënnale through the 23rd of August at Odapark in Venray.

How does your identity show itself in your work, and how does that work potentially look different being in a city like Glasgow versus Newcastle where you’re from?

The way that I put my identity into my work is about my dual heritage. A lot of my work about grooming is about being two things at once. I use the work as a vehicle for that. It’s quite an abstract way of doing it. Using humour is a good vehicle for that sort of thing. I’m not a particularly serious person. I’m using fun motifs as vehicles for heavier sociopolitical themes. I don’t know if being in Glasgow has sort of changed the way I go about that.

Both Glasgow and Newcastle are predominantly white cities. The context of the work isn’t that dissimilar?

Yeah, not really. I don’t think it’s fully changed. I mean even when I lived in Manchester, which was slightly more multicultural in comparison to here up to Newcastle, I don’t know. I guess it’s always been within my own bubble. It was quite hard growing up in predominantly white areas and being mixed race. Specifically being mixed race in the way that I am. I’ve not got very Eurocentric features and that kind of thing. I use the work to parse through thoughts and feelings about my own identity.

My mum’s from the Midlands in a working class mining town and my dad’s from Zimbabwe. Neither of them are from Newcastle, but they both still live in Newcastle, and that’s where I was born, that’s where I’m from. I’ve not really had any heavy linchpins to the place that I’ve grown up, even though I am from there. I’ve been to Zimbabwe a few times. I don’t go that often. Every time I do go, I feel slightly more engrained in that. When I was a child, I was super shy. So every time I’d go, I’d be hiding behind my mom and dad the whole time. But the last time I went, ten years ago, I’d been using my practice in my third year of my university studies to unpack the reason why I feel like I had that much connection to my heritage. So when I was there, I really tried to get engrossed in that, and I filmed some video works out there as well.

Both of my parents are black, but my father is Jamaican. My mother is African-American. I’ve never been to Jamaica, but there is an inherent nationalistic pride that was ingrained in me despite never having been to the island. Sometimes, less when I was younger, but more so now, especially being in proximity to London where there are a lot of Jamaican people, I’m thinking about how I feel like that Jamaican identity is very instilled in me because there is a pride that is there, and I grew up with my family around. But feeling that, because I’ve never been, that I’m less Jamaican than the people around me maybe. I had an ex here who would call me “Ja-Fake-in”.

My dad was always trying to instil that within me, but I think because I grew up in such a predominantly white place, and my friend group was white, I was always just trying so hard to assimilate. I felt so detached from it. Once I got older, I was like, actually no. This is such an important part of my identity. I don’t know why I’ve been trying to ignore it for so long. When you’re teenagers, what you wanna do is be a part of something.

Identity and mixed identity, especially, is so complex. I think most people really don’t start to dissect those things until they’re older.

I think people need to have the mental capacity and urge to do that. And you don’t really get that until you become older.

Dog shows and grooming competitions are a popular motif in your work. Where does the draw to that subject matter come from?

I watched a documentary on Channel Four ages ago. It was in 2013, and it was called Doggy Styling. Basically, it was about these three British women who were dog groomers. They’d outgrown the UK circuit of dog grooming and the next stage was to go to Hershey’s, which is the top creative dog grooming convention. It was about these three British women trying to see if they could measure up to the American dog grooming scene. It followed these three British women and then it also followed two American women that dominated the competition. I thought it was just really bizarre and really interesting from an anthropological standpoint as well. I saw that documentary and I kind of just held on to the idea. I was like, this is really weird. I’m going to put this in my back pocket and I’m sure I’ll revisit this later.

In university, I was doing a lot of work about hair, black hair in particular. That was mainly the themes in my work through university. When I graduated, this seemed like a natural progression from that work. It’s still about hair, but it’s also now about dog hair, and grooming, and sculpting. It’s the British quirkiness of 2010’s documentaries. Specifically, Channel Four had a very specific brand of documentary they’d make. It was kind of like, it was slightly freak show-ish. It was always like, here’s this weird pocket of Britain you didn’t know about. It was a very specific time for documentary making.

How has your work changed or developed from studying at the Manchester School of Art and now being a practicing artist? And what through lines do you see that are still consistent throughout the work?

Costume and identity, I think, are like my two main through lines. They potentially might just be the things I always concentrate on. I don’t know, I’m always drawn to it. As a kid, I used to love dressing up. My mom is also an artist as well, so she would be quite good at making costumes for me and things, or would really encourage me to do that sort of thing. That’s engrained in me. There’s always gonna be some sort of costume element to my work. But again, it kind of went from wigs to turning myself into a poodle.

You were talking earlier kind of about where that draw came from and how that started. My interpretation originally when I was looking at your work in your previous shows was identity. It made me think about stereotypes around the animalistic qualities people associate with black people, black women specifically. Then your show, Silly Bitch, at SOUP, and that play on words. Obviously a bitch is a female dog. That is where I thought that connection may have been.

I’ve personally never thought about that myself, but I also really like I don’t know. I guess it’s like such a cliche thing, but I like how open art is to interpretation. I really like hearing what other people have got from my work. There are set themes and things I wanna talk about. I do a lot of single shot performance videos. There’s a lot of detail in the mundane things. With my poodle competition video series, people read a lot in tiny movements. I really love that. I am also a bit uncomfortable in the costume, but someone could read more into that., when really it’s just me being uncomfortable. I really love that it is so open. The video is so minimal that it’s open to any interpretation.

Can you tell me about your background as a gymnast and how the performance of that plays a role in your current series of work?

That’s something that evolved out of this work. It’s been five or so years since I’ve been expanding this universe. With every new show, there’s always a new little detail that gets pulled out of it. I was a high level gymnast for thirteen years and I was always injuring myself. With high level competitive gymnastics, there is a lot of preening and prepping that comes before the competition. Exactly the same as competition poodles.Youre covered in glitter spray and diamantes and you’ve got a beat on that you would never wear to the gym. It’s performance, but also endurance. The competitions are long. You’re on the floor for maybe three-ish hours. It instills discipline. I still catch myself doing things that remind me that routine is never going away now. I trained twenty-five hours a week. I saw my coach more than I saw my parents. There was a point where I’d be in competition season, and away every weekend at competitions again, but it is now sort of making that link with the dog competitive circuit.

It’s exactly the same. Even the halls you’re performing in, it’s the same. Crufts tours in a different location every year, but at one point, it was probably in the arena that I was doing the British Championships in. The branding is different. Instead of an apparatus, you’ve just got a big floor for dogs to parade around or the back area behind the curtain where they all get prepped. It’s all exactly the same competition set up, just in different formations.

Similarly, competition dogs come in as puppies. It’s the same in gymnastics. You have to start really young or you won’t get to elite level.

In your work specifically centred around the dog shows, the tufted textiles become part of the performance aspect of the work as a costume as well as hanging wall pieces. Is this a way that you usually make work, for example, where the pieces double as both installation and performance?

I like that element of it. I think I don’t know. I’d class myself as an installation artist, like, sculpture, but I think a really important thing for me, especially, in solo shows, is the world building element of it. I like people to come into a space and it feel completely different to a white cube. It’s definitely the two uses sort of thing. In the first sort of ever video I did for the Poodle series, the rugs were wrapped around the maquette of a poodle. It was nice to show the use. A lot of people don’t really understand what that shape is. It’s quite abstract. I once had someone ask if it was a vintage toilet rug. And it’s like, you know what? No. But like, again it goes back to that thing of like, I love hearing what people are interpreting this as. The way that I explain it to people is those images of vintage flayed lion, tiger and bear rugs. It’s basically that without the head. With other shows, I’ve had motifs that have been in the videos but it’s not essentially been that piece. So the work all kind of works together but it’s not essentially in the videos. Say for example, the rosettes on display. They all belong in the same world so they all kind of make sense together.

And so you’d generally work in series’?

Yeah. I’ve been using this blue fabric. I bought that fabric in the market in Turin when I did the first show of all the poodle work. We found that fabric by chance. It was a very specific blue. I was looking for the same blue as they put up in these convention centres or arenas. It’s a very specific curtain that they put up for temporary walls and decoration. I was trying to find it in the UK, and then I was like, well, that’s gonna cost a lot of money to bring in. The director of the gallery I was working with mentioned a big market in Turin, we’ll just go and we’ll just try and find it. I was stressing by this point, because it’s a really specific shade of blue and we’re going to need quite a lot of it. The alternative was to paint the gallery walls because it has to be that blue. If it was any other blue, it just wouldn’t work. It’s so significant to these competitions. If it was slightly off, it would not read the same.

We found this massive, full roll in the correct amount we needed at an amazing price. It was kind of like it came to me. I have used that fabric in every show. Whether it’s been a tiny little wall or we’ve done the whole gallery. It’s really served its purpose. It’s been everywhere. It started in Turin, then it went to London, then it went to Manchester, and then I moved up here, so it came to Glasgow, and then from Glasgow it went to Newcastle. Then it came back to me again. And then it went to London. And then it went to Mexico City. Now it’s back to London.

Over time it’s been cut to fit certain shapes. It started off as maybe twenty quite long pieces. I’ve got maybe ten complete pieces now. I’m just going to keep using it until it’s scraps. I’ll maybe do something else with it after that. I feel like I need to because it’s been such a massive part of my practice for so long.

Do you think that fabric and with each show it being less and less and less kind of determines when this series ends?

I have thought about that. It was just a random fabric we found in the market in Turin. How am I going to find that again? I don’t know if I’d want to put in the money and effort to find this like cheap polyester fabric again. After the show at SOUP, a lot of it got donated to the community group. It’s living its own lives in different bits. There’s probably little scraps somewhere in Mexico, some fashion students took some of it because it was offcuts. So it’s slowly made its way all over doing its own thing wherever it goes.

How do you determine the patterns and designs that you do on the tufting? What process goes into that? The textiles you’re making aren’t just replicas of different dogs.

Well, originally I did start by using reference photos from my other competitions. The first show I did, there were two that were kind of direct or like heavily influenced by two grooms that I’d seen. By the time I’d got to the last one of the four in that series, I’d got a bit more confident in my skills and decided to design one from scratch. It’s fun to think about what I want to see as a dog. What would I want to turn a dog into? Because also a part of the competition is an audience vote. And so I thought, if I was an audience member, what would I want to see?

I have a lot of random photos on my phone. Sometimes the inspiration comes from a color combination I think is nice or a screenshot of a cartoon I’ve seen on instagram. I’m picking from different bits and bobs. When I do a set of them, there is a theme that runs through them. In Mexico City, I did cartoon cats, like The Pink Panther, and Felix.

For Silly Bitch at SOUP in 2025, I did four tapestries. Two were based on animals with genetic mutations. The first being a candy floss lobster that was found in Maine around 2017. The coloring was due to a really rare genetic mutation, but they couldn’t work out what had caused it to mutate that way and give the lobster pastel blue and pink coloring. The second genetic mutation tapestry was from a zebra named Tira, born in Kenya in 2019, who had a genetic mutation that made her brown and spotty. The second two tapestries in the show were based on costumes. One was Bjork’s swan dress and the other was based on a gymnastics leotard. Sometimes I go into shows thinking of a general theme, and for that one, the theme was costume.

Can you tell me about your time in Mexico City for Feria Material with SOUP? Was that your first art fair? Did that alter the way you think about how your work is perceived by a broader international audience?

Yes, that was my first art fair. Silly Bitch generated a bit of buzz at London Gallery weekend. SOUP had been recommended to do the fair for a while and the fair didn’t seem as rigid as others. I think that’s why Hector at SOUP decided to take me. My work is playful and colorful. And also, it was a fun coincidence that the people in Mexico City are obsessed with dogs. It is such a dog city. They’re everywhere, people worship them. There were so many dogs at the art fair as well which was an added bonus. The work was really well received.

There was a portrait video in the booth, which was the star. People didn’t know it was moving because it is such a slow performance and I’m trying really hard to stay still. Someone actually thought I was in the wall behind it or that it was a livestream. That piece was a really big draw card into the space.

We upholstered the whole space in eleven hours. It was an insane install. It is such a confined space that you have to work with. It really is a challenge. We basically sort of transferred what we’ve done for Silly Bitch into the booth. Originally we were meant to have two days to install, but then the fair had to move venues. That only left us one day to install. But we were like, no we can do it. We were literally the first ones in, last ones out. Luckily there was a hardware store over the road. So we were like, I got this. We were just running around all over the fucking place. But we got it done.

When you’re working on this series of work specifically, are you thinking about surrealist qualities or this idea of the uncanny, something that’s a bit familiar, but something’s quite off? Does that play any role in how you’re making your work? I’m thinking of our conversation just there about the fair and how the video work was a big draw for people because it was quite odd.

I think it comes back to the humour element of my work. It’s kind of disarming and it creates conversation. My work isn’t super research heavy. I’m not super studious. My research comes in the form of hoarding images. I’m more of a visual researcher than a text-based researcher. It comes from a collection of images and sourcing in that way. Whether it be textures or sounds, color combinations or just objects that I like the look of. Maybe that is why my work has more of a surrealist skew. It’s a slightly more obstructed way of building things.

I’m trying to create spaces that bring out different emotions in people. I had a show in the Intermedia gallery at CCA, and that’s the first time I’ve done blue flooring. Usually it would just be the blue walls. I had a blue carpet, I had the blue painted walls, and then also had the fabric, which dampened the sound. The acoustics are really flat and damp and that also adds another element to it. So when you pair a big video with me as an unnerving figure in doggy drag with a very quiet, warm environment, people are either soothed by it or unsettled. Those are the two main takeaways people have had when they’ve been in these spaces.

For Trophy Room at CCA, there was a soundtrack. It goes back to the Channel Four documentary. There were always these twinkly scores to them. I’m not sure if it’s a motif in British oddity documentaries, but there is always that kind of soundtrack. I got my friend, Oscar Marcus Boyle to recompose ‘The Winner Takes It All’. We stretched it into ten minutes. Again, it created quite a surreal environment where it’s quite warm and dull.

Since it was quite dark in the room, we spotlighted things. Some people were really creeped out by it and some people were really soothed by it. It was the same for Silly Bitch as well because instead of the floor, we’d done the ceiling. SOUP is like a white cube gallery. But by using the fabric on the ceiling, we made the gallery feel like a competition tent. I like to freak people out. The core of my work is that it’s a little bit freaky.

A little bit freaky. Strange, strange little creatures. Strange, freaky, and uncanny.

Yeah. I like it. There you go. I like a strange little guy, you know.

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In the Studio is a monthly series interviewing Scotland-based artists and curators in their studios, conducted by Chaz Scott, a curator and art historian based between Baltimore, Maryland and Glasgow, Scotland.

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Happy July! Hopefully the summer weather will catch up with us soon… but in the meantime, there’s plenty to do and see in Glasgow over the next fortnight! Read on for more.

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ICYMI: We’re making an Edinburgh Art Map!

Last week, we launched a Crowdmatch campaign with Creative Scotland to help develop an Edinburgh Art Map.

To get this project off the ground, we are gathering donations to fund a new website and the publication of our first printed Edinburgh Art Map. Whether you’re a GAM user, an Edinburgh local, an artist or a gallery, this project is for you! Even a small donation would be hugely appreciated and help us towards building a resource to support Edinburgh creatives.

This crowdfunder is supported by Creative Scotland, who will match donations of up to £250 on a 1:1 basis. This is a collaborative project led by Maggie Ashmole and hosted by Embassy Gallery in Leith.

Donate here!

WHAT’S ON?

Submit your exhibition/event to our online map or email us if you’d like us to promote something in this newsletter!!

Cathy Wilkes, The Modern Institute, 2026. Installation view. Photo: Matthew Barnes.

Previews and Events

Monday 6th July

💫 6–9pm | Damned if I do, damned if I don’t, Jane Skeer | New Glasgow Society | Until 8 July, open Tuesday and Wednesday, 12–6pm

Thursday 9th July

💫 5:30–8:30pm | Waters of the Womb, Ashley Stefano | Garage Space, Barnes Building at The Glasgow School of Art | Until 14 July, open Monday–Saturday, 10am–6pm

💫 6–8pm | East End Open, Mike Hill, Samantha Wilson, Filip Velkovski, Madeline Mackay, olesya ilenok, Sofya Mikhaylova, Kimberley Bright, Cora Weiss, Iona Jones, Rebecca Laverty, Oscar Marcus Boyle & a live music set from medb | Horsepower | Until 26 July, open Friday and Saturday, 12–6pm, and by appointment

💫 5–7pm | Celebrating the Design Journey: Commonwealth Games Medals at The Glasgow School of Art, Jonathan Boyd, Militsa Milenkova and Callum Rice | Window on Heritage, Reid Building at The Glasgow School of Art | Until 8 August, open Monday–Saturday, 10am–4:30pm (closed Monday 20th July)

💫 5–7pm | Afterlives: The Weaver, A Chorus, An Archipelago, Gogularaajan Rajendran, Erika Tan and Elia Nurvista | Reid Gallery at The Glasgow School of Art | Until 8 August, open Monday–Saturday, 10am–4:30am (closed Monday 20th July)

Friday 10th July

💫 4–7pm | Invisible M*thers, Rebecca Livesey-Wright and Indra Wilson | Strange Field | Until 19 July, open daily, 11am–7pm

💫 7–9pm | John Wood | Celine Gallery | Until 2 August, open Saturday, 12–5pm, and by appointment

Saturday 11th July

💫 4–7pm | Profoundly Moving, Jenny Hogarth | Govan Project Space | Until 19 July, open Saturday and Sunday, 12–4pm, and by appointment

💫 8pm–late | Bumper Magazine Launch, with readings from Carle Gent and Colin Herd | David Dale Gallery

Sunday 12th July

💫 6–12pm | Piscine x Transa: Issue 2 Launch | McNeill’s Bar

Monday 13th July

💫 6–8:30pm | Collectively…dreaming | 62 Moncur Street | Sign up via eventbrite

Friday 17th July

💫 12–8pm | Carsick Dog Presents: Heaven Part Four | dm for address | Continues 18–19 July, open 12–8pm

Want to know what art stuff is happening every weekend?! Become a paid subscriber for £5/month to get our weekly newsletter every Thursday!

Current Exhibitions

💫 While We Are Here, Bianca Patania, Tally Tunnell, Varvara Yurenko, Ruby Harrop, Yulia Hap, Saul Auty, Ruth Babington, Meredith Donnachie, Kate Glenn, Khushboo Kumari, Kathleen King, Allegra Lavinia Fleur | N.atelier | Until 7 July, open Monday and Tuesday, 9am–6pm

💫 No one is ready, Iris Touliatou | David Dale Gallery | Until 11 July, open Friday–Saturday, 12–5pm

💫 Protect Me From What I Know, Jill Westwood, Sohrab Hura and Adam Lewis Jacob | David Dale Gallery | Until 11 July, open Friday–Saturday, 12–5pm

💫 Guernica to Gaza, Dot Walker and Ian Whyte | WASPS - The Briggait | Until 16 July, open Monday–Friday, 9am–5pm

💫 Signals & Echoes, Gori Mora & James Rigler | Kendall Koppe | Until 17 July, open Wednesday–Saturday, 12–6pm

💫 A moment of darkness at noon, Joanna Piotrowska | The Common Guild | Until 18 July, open Thursday–Saturday, 12–5pm, and by appointment

💫 James Gladwell | Project Ability | Until 18 July, open Wednesday–Saturday, 11am-5pm

💫 Professor Ular’s Invention, Pablo Llopis | Beautiful Materials Model Gallery | Until 19 July, open daily, 11am–6pm

💫 Wound Duty, Alice Brooke | Mitchell Library | Until 19 July, open Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday, 9am–5pm, and Thursday and Tuesday, 9am–8pm

💫 Portrait of a City, Dean Sameshima | 5b | Until 25 July, open Wednesday–Saturday, by appointment

💫 Onwards, Little Book Transfers | Grateful Gallery | Until 26 July, open Wednesday - Saturday 11am-6pm, and Sunday, 11am–5pm

💫 Nature 2026 and Future Days 2026, International Photography Group Exhibition | The Glasgow Gallery of Photography | Until 31 July, open Wednesday–Friday and Sunday, 12–4pm, and Saturday, 11am–4pm

💫 Holding Ground, Matthew Arthur Williams | The Alasdair Gray Archive | Until 31 July, open Wednesday–Friday, 10am–5pm

💫 Painting, our mutual friend, Andrew Cranston and Lorna Robertson | Glasgow Print Studio | Until 1 August, open Monday–Saturday, 10am–5:30pm

💫 My heart is drenched in blood! My heart is drenched in blood!, Jericho Mars | Until 9 August, open Wednesday–Friday and Sunday, 12–5pm, and Saturday, 12–6pm

💫 •~TUA~• 大眼 •~MAK~•, Rae-Yen Song 宋瑞渊 | Tramway | Until 15 August, open Wednesday–Friday and Sunday, 12–5pm, and Saturday, 12–6pm

💫 Cathy Wilkes | The Modern Institute (Aird’s Lane) | Until 19 August, open Tuesday–Friday, 11am–6pm, and Saturday, 12–5pm

💫 some day this will all be crumbling ruins, David Wojnarowicz | THe Modern Institute (Carlton Place) | Until 28 August, open Friday, 11am–6pm, or by appointment

💫 Hitting the Lift, Victoria Morton | The Modern Institute | Until 5 September, open Tuesday–Friday, 11am–6pm, and Saturday, 12–5pm

💫 Liquid Land, Jasmine Togo-Brisby | GoMA | Until 6 September, open Monday–Thursday and Saturday, 10am–5pm, and Friday and Saturday, 11am–5pm

💫 We Make Museums: Sustaining and Changing Worlds, Sohaila Baluch, Ruth Ewan and Alixandra Prybyla | Glasgow Women’s Library | Until 26 September, open Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, 10am–4:30pm, Thursday, 10am–7pm, and Saturday, 12–4pm

💫 Through a Mirror, Darkly, Naeem Mohaiemen | Hunterian Art Gallery | Until 11 October, open Tuesday–Saturday, 10am–5pm, and Sunday, 11am–4pm

Andrew Cranston and Lorna Robertson, Painting, our mutual friend, 2026, Installation view. Photo: Eoin Carey

Add your exhibition to the map!

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Remember! If you’re putting on an exhibition or event, you can use our online submissions form to get it featured on our online map, Instagram and in THIS newsletter AND our paid subs weekly guide.

GAM xoxo

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