Godbold & Wood


A cowboy takes aim but never fires, and the Indian’s arrow never leaves its bow. A pony girl rides on a diplodocus, chasing and being chased by a giant tortoise. Everything is out of scale. A man hang-glides from a pterodactyl, and perched on the back of a hippo, a blonde holds a hand grenade. Everything is out of time. Ostrich and zebra cavort before a backdrop of tenements. Everything is out of place. The Lamb of God sits atop a stone egg in front of the Seamans Institute. A fox lies dead in a road tunnel. An elephant takes rose hip tea from a china cup.

The tea is real; the elephant is plastic, an articulated toy attached to a motor. The protagonists are all toys or confections (marzipan fish and sugary cats), twirling mindlessly on motorized plinths and rotor arms. These absurd scenarios played themselves out repetitively—and repetitiously—in 20 boxes that lined the gallery walls. The

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