The Harmony of Art & Interior Design
Interior designers at Les Tuileries in Surrey have joined forces with emerging and established artists to create a truly innovative partnership, bringing both fine art and interior design to their clients.
With experts in both areas, Les Tuileries offers a unique service of harmonising art and interiors so that collectors can live amongst the object d’art that they love. With style and flair beautiful interiors are created displaying works of art which are shocking to some but true perfection to others.
Most recently, artist Fleur Deakin has seen her ‘jewel like’ artworks adorn the walls of both contemporary and traditional schemes. Deakin creates mixed media collages using gold and silver leaf and recycled packaging which is then encased in reflective resins which burn brightly with vibrant colour.
Les Tuileries director, Penelope Shivjee says “Our partnership with Fleur Deakin reflects a somewhat innovative and youthful spirit to combining art and interior design, our aim is to get across that both are accessible and are a wonderful compliment to each other”
Les Tuileries gallery & studio is open Tuesday to Saturday 10-4pm
6 South Street,
Surrey. RH4 2EL 01306 888028
Review by Aled Roberts
Instantly, the grammar of apprehension is befuddled by the dense-dappled lushness of the work’s realisation. Deakin has developed a unique process which integrates handmade paper and collage techniques; sculpting with wood, plaster and fabric; layering gold and silver leaf; incorporating recycled packaging and discarded printed material; painting with oils and acrylics; stenographic mark-making; all of which are encased under layers of resins and varnishes.
But this is not a hap-hazard assemblage of found-object, these materials feel crystallised; as though the bricolage has taken place deep in the sediment and what has emerged is both composite and unquestionably a single, shimmering thing.
These are clearly documents of movement and shift, but caught in one chromo-luminescent instant. The bleeding of indigo, vermillion and blush-red, the crackling film over some of the images, is like distressed celluloid, trodden, cauterised and exhumed amongst the strata of human accident.
Subject and material are recycled symbiotically. The sunflower or hibiscus may bear their stamen-toting all, but in their plumage an old shirt or ripped tabloid mar the full-frontal nascency. No quantity is stable, composition often takes hold like a growth around the ambiguous recurring stairways and windows. But are these empty staircases and open windows of Deakin’s work entrance or exit points?
Iridescent Drift, more lucidly than any other piece, feels like the meeting point of two different worlds. On the right, the red line of bluelunar or Ghost is distressed, like celluloid under heat or, indeed, the sun. Like Blake’s inwardly-perceived \"Holy! Holy! Holy!\", or the sheer light of Turner’s late work, Deakin’s light is something splendid and threatening. At the slender centre-point between the murky and the stressed, a kind of art-deco creeper makes it\'s way up the still point of the turning phosphorescent worlds, caught at a point of chimeric corrosion.
In bluelunar there is another such growth. Against the familiar open window, scored on sheaths of light, a clot of saturnalian colour clamours for succour at the centre of the composition. No form settles long on the mercurially sad formation, like the gloaming refracted through sapphire. What we may see as symbolically-laden aquamarine or a Klimtian knot of colour and form, could as easily be a bruise or a blossom forming through the painting’s skein. The observer (and artist) are placed in the emulsion of ill-defined perception at the left of the composition, scored down with that single red line. A response, possibly, to the milky in-distinction of our vantage point, to the feeling that we (and our perception) are as unstable as any other quantity in the painting.
But there is no greater threat to an artistic agenda which gleefully interrogates the certainties of form and ontology, than the grammar of an exegesis which seeks to draw definite conclusion. Ultimately, Deakin’s work is not ‘tactile’, it wants to be touched. It is not ‘lush’, it wants to be looked at again and again and again. It is not important, it is vital.