The Emperor's New Clothes
by David J. Jones MA RCA

NEALE HOWELLS - WASHINGTON GALLERY NOV 2 - NOV 21

Andersen's tale of the emperor's new clothes has accompanied modern art through all its isms , critics often ridiculing what was genuinely new. I refer to this by way of my visit to the Washington Gallery to delight in the thought provoking work on show, (instead work by Neale Howells had to suffice).
Upon entering, a middle aged latte sipper noticing my hunched up frame heading upwards to the tower of luv gestured skywards. ''It's full of cunning stunts'' he enunciated. As I plodded skywards, beyond the nauseous daubs, my immediate failure to respond to the repartee dampened my expectant mood. The interlude of viewing the procession of similarity (bar dimensions) over, I reacquainted myself with the dyslexic wordsmit (sic) , ready to earn my spurs. ''The emperor has his new suit but it is a little tucking fight'', with that a new friendship was formed. The downside - we reconvene in the gallery, after all he may well work there - poor sod!
The gallery, yes it suggests Mr Howells work has attitude, in my lexis this is a theatrical pose created for effect, or updating. Yes originality is here, for those hard of seeing narcosis with a four form scribbler. Though most graffiti based art, particularly that which originated in the 80's, was overrated, the best procured from the likes of Dubuffet, Twombly and Penck. Work spilling fractious energy, vibrancy and above all a notional narrative. Howells work has none of this, dynamism and brutality not visible, instead utter timidity, rigidity of the uninspired and worst of all sheer torpor. In passing the ''careful'' application directly on to the wall is a cinch.
Elvis Costello once remarked that Morrissey was over reliant on titles, what ever the merits of the Mancunian bard they were at least witty. Here in musical terms Slade's 'Mama weer all crazee' springs to mind. If it is designed to produce a nudge and oh what a naughty boy, full marks Neale.
In a recent interview with Big Issue Cymru Howells expressed a dislike of Welsh art and artists, by intimation the retro Celtic myth making art he loathes encompasses his own practice, here is a man who fails to grasp modernity. There is a complete lack of cohesive tracts, the viewer is numbed by spatial masturbation to such a level that his namesake Kim may deem it worthy of ''a pile of shite''.
Elevation beyond ones capability, a naked soul in search of creative profanities, an unfortunate attitude I dare say.

David Jones November 2002

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