Glasgow artist David Shrigley was commissioned by London restaurant Sketch to make his cartoon-like drawings and dry wit a part of the dining experience there. According to The Telegraph, the artist’s work will adorn the walls and an “eminently nickable” tea set. There’s no need for theft or related hooliganry, however; the restaurant plans on selling both.
Shrigley, who will be part of the Fourth Plinth in 2016 with a ten-meter high sculpture of a raised thumb, drew 239 new works for the walls of the restaurant, which forms the largest group of drawings Shrigley has ever exhibited. His ceramic tea set is an extension of that, becoming a kind of collaboration between himself and Master Chef Pierre Gagnaire.
Sketch states: “The meal itself becomes a site-specific sculptural work that references Sketch’s location in the heart of London and invites diners to respond with their own thoughts and interaction.”
The set is white, but labeled with Shrigley’s handwriting. Among our favorites are the condiment shakers, which don’t actually tell you what they contain, unless, of course, you take Shrigley’s word that they hold “dust,” “dirt” and “nothing.” The restaurant claims that the set will be a conversation-starter, but we’re hoping the salt shakers trigger at least one existential crisis.
Let’s expand on that idea a little, shall we? You’re at a fine dining establishment with your closest friends and family members. You’re living it up in London! surrounded by the work of a credible artist who worked on an entire set of ceramic tableware just so you can have a delightful teatime conversation about it. How droll! You pick up one of the salt shakers and rehearse your prepared quip about it in your head. You read the label. What’s this? It suddenly feels as though all the air has been sucked out of the room.
“Dirt.” “Dust.” “Nothing.” What are you doing here? Forget that! What are you doing with your life?
“Dirt.”
Your quip gets stuck in your throat and corrodes there— a silly relic created by a silly person.
“Dust.”
Sweating now, you desperately try to place yourself in a cold and empty universe that’s rapidly expanding along with your consciousness. There’s so much space, so much vacuum that no one person can fill even the tiniest portion of it. Master Chef Pierre Gagnaire could spend several lifetimes tossing his signature cakes and pastries into this void and get nowhere. You’re reaching the final Truth. It’s opening to receive you like a vast, indifferent cosmic mouth. You’re closer. Closer. You can see it now. There is… There is…
“Nothing.”
Bill Rodgers is a Contributing Editor at CFile and is available to add levity and happiness to any dinner conversation.
Above images: David Shrigley’s ceramic tea set for Sketch, London.
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