This visually seductive exhibition taps into the re-emergence of a subculture in the digital age, but, asks Jason Jules, does it give the subject the depth it deserves?
This isn’t one of those exhibitions you check out during your lunch break and leave with enough time for a quick coffee and a slice of cake in the gallery cafe. No, this is one of those shows where room after room reveals itself to be a mini exhibition all its own as you’re greeted by a succession of large format photographs, each one a bold study in individual style and the modern, unapologetic gaze.
Set in the palatial environs of Somerset House you’re instantly struck by the fact that the space has been hijacked, albeit temporarily, by a group of people who constitute a definite departure from the gallery’s usual subject matter. With its stately courtyard, manicured Neoclassical gardens and sweeping marble staircases, there’s a sense that you’re party to some kind of cultural takeover — not only are these images shamelessly urban in setting, but a great number of the subjects portrayed here are black. Walls historically graced by portraits of lords, ladies and rich rural landscapes are now adorned by a rainbow of latter day Beau Brummells, a racially diverse procession of the lords and ladies of twenty-first century street style. This creates a tension in the space which somehow heightens your experience of the work, adding a poignancy.
The connections between the individuals portrayed in this show and rude boy culture are, to say the very least, tenuous. Overall there are about 60 individuals featured here, mainly men, mainly from London, myself included. Many of them you’ll recognise, if that is, you’re familiar with the legion of men’s style blogs that have sprung up over the past five years.
That a quick Google search of pretty much any of the subjects here will result in no shortage of images of them, rather than undermining the validity of this exhibition, offers a hint to what you’re actually looking at here. For despite the presence of a portrait of Pauline Black from the Selector, a pop-up barber shop and a six feet high stack of speaker boxes, the connections between the individuals portrayed in this show and rude boy culture are, to say the very least, tenuous.
Rude boys are bad boys, arch outsiders, gangsters, latterly known as Yardies. According to its photographer Dean Chalkey, and its curator Harris Ellliot, the idea for the show came about when they observed more and more men prioritising their everyday appearance, placing an importance on dressing well in a way that gave them a kind of confidence, or what Elliot calls ‘a swagger’. The pair felt that this attitude could be traced back to the rude boy of the sixties and decided to capture its return.
Truth of the matter is, if the rude boy was to make a comeback, you’re more likely to see photos of him on a Crimewatch UK late-night special than on the smooth eggshell walls of Somerset House. Rude boys are bad boys, arch outsiders, gangsters, latterly known as Yardies. This fact shouldn’t matter and maybe wouldn’t matter if some of these images, with their high style quotient were in a men’s fashion editorial with a pithy but enthusiastic 200-word intro and the title sprawled across the opening page alongside a story entitled ‘The Return of the Suit’ and another called ‘The roll-neck is the new V-neck’. But this work, visually impressive as it is, occupies a space (both physically and intellectually) that should be afforded more conceptual substance. Exploring what lies behind that ubiquitous gaze — all modern and devoid of apology — is where the show’s real potential lay.