An invisible piper
As the son of an architect, Giles Alexander developed an inherent ability to translate the three-dimensional world onto a two-dimensional surface. Nurtured within the illustrious walls of London's National Gallery, he cultivated a deep appreciation for the transformative power of painting to capture and transcend physical space and human time. Alexander’s practice has always wondered about ‘us’ and asked how we find a sense of place in a landscape, in the world, indeed in the Universe? His work to date has explored ubiquitous themes of faith, reason, and the cosmos, always creating space for new work to extend an already decades long exploration into belonging and identity. It’s with this in mind that Alexander now pivots his artistic focus beyond the celestial to perhaps the most universal language of all – music…
With the recent confirmation of Einstein’s gravitational waves showing us that the whole Universe is humming, we can now begin to appreciate that every star, every planet, every continent, every building, every person is vibrating along to the slow cosmic beat (Frank 2023). It turns out that gravitational waves are more like sound waves in music - so in a way, what’s just been observed for the first time is the song of the universe (Mizrahi 2020). As Einstein mused “Everything is determined by forces over which we have no control. It is determined for the insect as well as for the star. Human beings, vegetables, or cosmic dust - we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an invisible piper.”
New discoveries are reflected in our cultural accouterments but as Einstein’s quip suggests, often reveal themselves serendipitously. It beggars belief that we process something as exquisitely subtle as music using only the most absurdly low-tech tools - bits of bone, lymphy gunge, tiny bundles of hair. It's like equipping a spaceship with an engine made of twigs, rubber bands and cheese. But it flies. (Faber. 2023).
While childhood visual literacy was perhaps genetic for Alexander, the artist was also busy creating a deep auditory cache – growing up in a house where walls were clad with as many musical instruments as paintings. Like many of us he subconsciously created a sort of soundtrack, or playlist to his life. Music psychologist Dr Victoria Williamson says “studies based on how our memory is triggered from tiny clips of musical tracks have estimated that the average person has tens of thousands of music snippets in their mind’s jukebox by the time they reach adulthood. Just like all memories, music memories are rarely single-sense entities. The same song can have complex multi-sensory associations, which vary wildly from person to person. These additional connected memories can be visual, tactile, even olfactory, immediately transporting you to a particular place, feeling and/or time from your past.” She calls this the, “honey they’re playing our song” phenomenon.
Anchored in an academic tradition that upholds technical precision and craftsmanship, Alexander continues to fearlessly transcend his artistic boundaries, deliberately challenging the established norm. This is evident in his continued choice of non-conventional, challenging subject matter. In doing so, he encourages us to reflect upon the dynamic interplay between our past and present selves. British art historian, curator and arts broadcaster Kate Bryan says “One cannot help but directly think of Giles Alexander in relation to the maxim Know Thyself. As a painter he belongs to a long standing academic tradition of virtuously handled oil painting and precision draughtsmanship, yet he stands aside from this, quite purposefully drawing attention to moments where he departs from tradition. This is not wilful contrariness; Alexander uses and abuses his polished aesthetic as another way of interrogating his world and questioning all that we hold dear. Alexander has always focused his attentions on real and imagined space, often drawing our attention to the shifting boundaries between the two. There is a visual pun in his paintings between ‘space’ as a crucial component of all painting and ‘space’ the final frontier.”
For at least the past century, music has had a front-row-seat, documenting the ebb & flow of societal sentiments, whether illuminating the rise and fall of fascism, the relentless march of technology, the expansion of competing empires and geo-political ideologies and of course our ever-evolving human condition. The guitar in particular has enjoyed a democratic status amongst instruments, finding it’s way into most societies cultural soundtrack in one format or another. Stickers on guitars have become a way for musician to personalise their instruments and steer personal or, in the case of a group, collective narratives. Alexander’s practice has always engaged with historical narratives, whether investigating spiritual architecture, the science and philosophy of space exploration or through direct art historical quotation and reflects a keen awareness of the power dynamics embedded in cultural memory. His work becomes a form of visual archaeology, excavating layers of cultural significance to unveil the underlying stories that shape our understanding of the world; as a form of Contemporary History Painting.
But in mundane truth, in modern mega-capitalist society, music is something we use. We use it constantly, in industrial quantities. We socialise with it, exercise to it, relax to it, screen out traffic noise with it, shop to it, show it off to visitors, advertise snack foods and mortgages with it, use it to hustle us out of bed in the morning or lull us to sleep at night, artificially boost our enthusiasm for sport or sex with it, add it to movies to underscore plot twists and explosions, take the edge off uncomfortable silences with it (Faber. 2023). Alexander’s new paintings juggle these multifaceted narratives and operate as visual essays, weaving together layers of art history, cultural references, and philosophical inquiries and at once speak a contemporary language while also acknowledging tradition.
Andy Dinan, 2024