Sue Pedley—listening to Clara, Ethel and Ada
SYDNEY, ERSKINEVILLE ROAD…This could be a street anywhere in the world and yet ... this art could only be Sue Pedley's. Everything about it says so: the bright orange and iridescent blues, the wool, the gypsum, the steam, the knotting, wrapping and stitching. Along with the element of recognition comes surprise at finding her here. Sue Pedley, 'as prejudiced as the next artist' (she says it herself) when it comes to community art—what is she doing making art in a vacant shop in Erskineville? (Erko, the locals like to say. Irksomeville, a lawyer friend of mine used to call it.)
Her being here intrigues and bothers me. In fact I'd say that my first reaction to this work is equal parts delight and botherment. It has something to do with the kind of artist Pedley is, someone who makes installations with materials like plaster, felt and yarn. She makes things for which there are no names, yet they are easy to describe: words like spontaneous, playful, organic, colourful come to mind. The objects suggest a myriad of other activities, of a non-art or an anti-art nature but, nonetheless, this is contemporary art as we know and recognise it, with all the critical fundamentals in place. You couldn't possibly mistake it for anything else.
This bears thinking about. It triggers a chain of questions about fine art and community art, what can be expected from combining them, whether such a coupling will or can be successful and, if so, on what terms. Pedley tells me that, ecologically speaking, the zone where two environments meet is the one that supports the most life. I like the analogy but experience suggests that... The rest of this article is available to subscribers of Eyeline