Apocalypse Wow! The Life & Times of Crazy Eddie

A long time in the planning; discussions for a retrospective exhibition delving into the crazy world of Edward Mortimer began in late 2019. Then, as we all know, the pandemic hit. Coming forward to January 2023, the elephant scale gestation period came to an end and we opened the doors on Crazy Eddie’s Bargain Basement.

Edward Mortimer has been creating sculptural artworks for some thirty years. His works are simultaneously humorous, nightmarish and weird but crucially, always well observed.

Crazy Eddie can often be found sat in his local coffee shop with a random object  before him on the table. The job of understanding comes from observation. As with any skill, whether it be bird identification or train spotting, understanding of anatomy, architecture and other such art related subjects comes from the ability to sit quietly, study, observe and eventually create, based on the absorption of information.

The skull of a lowland gorilla, a plastic Mickey Mouse, Balinese wood carvings, Darth Vader’s mask, the Staypuft Marshmallow Man and a moth eaten teddy bear that looks like it it could be the Stasi on you, may not sound like they have a lot in common, but here they make perfect sense. This exhibition revels in its eclecticism in a way that no other BasementArtsProject ever has done. This look back on the artistic oeuvre of one man is recognisable due to the feeling that one has stepped into the world of a b-movie mad scientist, a place in which the frames per second do not align with reality; everything flickers and runs at slightly the wrong speed. This is hyper-reality!

The exhibition is divided into three distinct areas that indicate process as much as the finished artefact. The front room is given over to the traditional gallery exhibition display style. The threshold between the front and rear spaces act as a place for contemplation, a study. And the rear space is given over to one of sculpture’s biggest issues - storage and transport!

At the threshold of understanding is the act of observation. When we are able to place our mind in another realm and quietly observe, we begin to absorb information. It is at this point that unconscious learning begins. Sigmund Freud had a large collection of objects sat on his desk and on the shelves of his study. These were objects of contemplation, inspiration and ideas came from sitting, looking, observing and thinking. As with Freud, Crazy Eddie’s desk is littered with objects, some drawn from the depths of the internet; an incredibly lifelike grenade held aloft by a plastic Mickey Mouse figure and the Balinese wood carving sit alongside ceramic interpretations of said same Mickey Mouse slowly morphing, via the hand of the artist, into steampunk versions of himself.

Sitting at the desk, one is able to pick up the objects, roll them around in your hands, feel and see the imprints of the artist’s fingers in the hardened clay. Many of the objects are treated with a metallic glaze, often tricking the viewer into first believing that they are bronze. Only close scrutiny or the facility to touch reveals the nature of the illusion.

Heading into the darker rear exhibition space, plastic packing cases are stacked in formation, the top cases with their lids removed or with the objects from within displayed on top. Two gargoyle type creatures sit atop the rear stacks, one of whom is called funny bones, whilst other boxes contain a study of a human skull, an oversized metallic beetle shell, what appears to be likeness of a shrunken head and a strange, deep blue coloured tribal style representation of Darth Vader’s mask, itself represented as a replica in the glass display cabinet of the study area.

During the many discussions with Crazy Eddie leading up to this exhibition, we regularly returned to the portability aspect of sculpture and the difficulties around transportation, storage, presentation and cost, and how this relates to the impractical nature of trying to display things in other countries, or even outside of Yorkshire. What began as a practical question “where am I going to store all of these packing cases during the exhibition?” became a meditation on going to pick the work up from Ed’s house. The rear exhibition space at BasementArtsProject utilises the mode of transportation as a method of display, in the process replicating the feeling of Ed’s basement, stacked as it is with packing cases full of sculpture.

It is in the representations of Darth Vader that the true nature of Mortimer’s sculpture is thrown into sharp relief, this is not so much a clash of cultures as it is a careful blending of cultures. The observation from the study is carried into the workshop and new forms are created, visual elements from the shrunken head seem to have become enmeshed with Lord Vader creating a hybrid form; tribal culture meets pop culture, as with the steampunk Mickeys.

Hidden away in a recess at the back of the rear exhibition (storage facility) space, sits a representation of Frankenstein’s monster, as portrayed by Boris Karloff in the movie from 1931. Here, a strobing light from above brings life to the creature, emulating the crackling electricity that does so in the film. Here hyper-reality happens at that flickering 1930’s speed, struggling to keep up with, yet simultaneously overtaking reality. Much of Crazy Eddie’s work is theatrical in its realisation, whether it be the manically bizarre kinetic installations such as his ‘Super Fast Chickens’ at 42 New Briggate, or the ‘Camp Angelic Shadow’ hovering above the pews of Holy Trinity Church. Down here in the post-pandemic, post-Christmas shadows of a January Basement the mood is as much Ed Wood as it is Edward.

Moving into the front space, it is uncertain as to what is being suggested here. Partly a study of form, partly post-apocalyptic landscape. The gorilla skulls contained in the study cabinet have, in this space been transformed through the act of observation combined with haptic skill, into complete gorilla heads. The detail in the wrinkles and fur, once again all rendered in clay and a variety of glazes, are absolutely stunning and lifelike. The wrinkled skin looks leathery and the fur looks soft to the point that it seems like only touch could reveal the absolute truth.   

On a plinth above the gorilla heads, a huge grenade lies embedded in a pile of sand the pin still thankfully in place. It would be interesting to speculate how much of the surrounding area would be obliterated if this massively scaled up clay replica where able to create an explosion in proportion to the real thing.

Laid out on the floor next to the grenade are a number of oversized ‘Beetle Shells’, again in a variety of metallic glazes, on their backs with their legs folded in towards the midline of their bodies. These creatures are dead, their outer shells punctured in places revealing them to be empty inside. What catastrophic event could have possibly ended these creatures which, in the event of nuclear holocaust, would be likeliest to survive where we would not. The gorilla heads, grenade and beetles are all presented on sandy landscapes hinting at some nightmarish ‘Planet of The Apes’ type scenario.

Against the chimney breast in the front exhibition space overseeing the apocalypse, is a long plinth containing three heads. Again, these heads are extremely well observed and meticulously constructed, covered in metallic glazes that give the impression of metal and lit from the inside. Light shines out through breaks and openings in the surface of the skulls, the middle of the three looks as though it is collapsing in on itself.

There is something disconcerting about the highlighting of the inner surface of these crania, the visible manipulation of the inside of the heads by the hands of the artist. Once again we are returned to Freud / Ed Wood / Edward sat at the threshold of the gallery space, watching, observing, waiting and eventually making as ideas form.

The exhibition has been thought provoking for visitors who seem to want to delve into the psychology of each individual work; one visitor from the nursing profession talking about the three heads in relation to indentions on the skulls of people that have had brain surgery, another identifying the makes of grenade.
“Were you in the army?”
“Yes, so I’ve thrown a few of these […] but I’m cured now!”

The last of the works in the exhibition is a series of mosaic tiles. Each one is hand made, as with everything else in the room. There are similarities with motifs repeated across numerous tiles but no two are actually the same. Here the emphasis changes and it becomes not just about the handmade, but also about the nature of non-machine made acts of repetition. The objects in this exhibition represent collectively thousands of hours over a lifetime producing things that are completely different, even in the case of these mosaic tiles. Many discussions occurred around the idea of NFT’s (Non-Fungible Tokens) and cryptocurrency in relation to these pieces. If you own an NFT or some form of cryptocurrency what do you actually own: an artwork, a piece of software, a programme, ones and zeros . . . ?

HERE the cryptocurrency is returned to the real world.

Crazy Eddie’s Bargain Basement is something of a hopped up meditation on sculpture, the nature of sculpture and how we learn about the world around us. I don’t think I have ever written a piece about an exhibition that involves so much punctuation with an emphasis on exclamation and question marks. This is testament to the nature of Crazy Ed’s work and the element of surprise it invokes that quite often involve as many questions as answers.

Bruce Davies | February 2023