Matthew Higgs

THE 2001 TURNER PRIZE WINNER, MARTIN CREED, once said he made art so that he might better communicate with other people, because, ultimately, he wanted to be loved. Creed’s disarmingly honest rationale could equally apply to Mathew Sawyer, a recent graduate of London’s Royal College of Art whose gentle and unassuming, if somewhat melancholy, works have recently been seen in group shows in London and San Francisco. Materially, it has to be said, Sawyer’s art doesn’t add up to much. Almost comically pathetic—often little more than a desultory image accompanied by a brief (and often poorly written) explanatory text—his pieces describe, for the most part, his tragicomic, typically unrequited attempts to make contact with or have his presence acknowledged by others.

An untitled work from 1999 saw Sawyer purchase from the same fruit stall in a South London market a single Granny Smith

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