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When you look at Simon Mee's sculptures, and consider the cherub-cheeked subjects of his paintings, there is the irresistible urge to see them come to life, to dare to suggest to the artist that perhaps he should turn his hand to animation. This might be because on one level Mee's work interacts with our expectations of animation: beyond the child-friendly characters, an irreverent humour and an impossible, yet casual, violence permeates Mee's art. On another level, the desire to see these characters move is almost certainly motivated by a need for narrative closure. Mee's characters are invariably presented suspended in mid-narrative; there is something that has happened before the image that confronts us, and there is almost certainly something that happens after the point we are witnessing. We want to know, 'What happens?'
Mee has responded to the suggestion that he make a career in animation with the observation that to extend beyond the still image of a painting or sculpture, to fill in the narrative gaps by telling a complete story, would defeat the purpose of his art, which he says is to reflect upon a single narrative moment within an unspecified sequence of events. While Mee is quite willing to talk about his work, he evades describing what it is about.1 The apparent conflict between an immutable image and the manifold narratives such an image evokes, illuminates a point of ambiguity in Mee's work, the first of many that characterizes his intelligent and complex oeuvre.
In some respects it might be argued that Peace and Security is the artist's response to those who wish for narrative closure. The painting depicts an infant curled up, sleeping