At first sight the work of Palin and Bonnell appears strongly contrasting. Where in Bonnell’s work there are sweeping expanses of smoothly painted canvas, Palin works mostly on miniature scale, creating highly textured surfaces. Where Palin searches his memory for images to paint, Bonnell draws his from the glossy clothing catalogues of major American brands. However, the juxtaposition of the style and content of their pictures draws out both unexpected similarities, and interesting elements of comparison.

Bonnell is recently returned from a sojourn in the USA; during his time there he created a series of work exploring the iconic, aspirational values of North American culture, particularly apparent in the advertising of major brand casual clothing. Bonnell states ‘I paint pictures that critique a particular area of our commercialised lives, yet I buy into the hype and dream of looking like a male model—which, believe me, will never happen’. He plays with the seductive marketing concept that an item of clothing can improve one’s image and social credibility, both wanting to accept this whilst simultaneously mindful that this is an idea created simply to sell products.
 
This is particularly well demonstrated in the work The Perfect Tee. In Bonnell’s painting one sees a couple, the man wearing a dazzling white t-shirt, set against an idyllic sky. The composition is derived from a similar catalogue image, the accompanying text stating: ‘evidence that things are going well, a tee that fits perfectly on the very first day’. A closer inspection of the picture, however, points to underlying tensions. The male figure, shown in an angular, awkward pose is frowning, whilst the female companion avoids eye contact, and appears almost as an afterthought on the edge of the canvas. The tensions are heightened by the contrasting styles used: the t-shirt is an uninterrupted expanse of whiteness, almost a white gap in the midst of a figurative image.

Tom Palin has set aside what might be termed realism. As he states ‘ The very act of “trying to represent” in itself defeats the painting…’ His work is derived from nuggets of memory, and he paints flashes of the past as the mind recalls them. The results are pared-down images containing an almost ethereal, ghostly element. The memories are also offered in small, highly concentrated portions. Many of his works are around 12” square, yet can take many months, even years to complete. Careful inspection shows a very textured surface, evidence of extensive re-working in repeated attempts to pin down the exact nature of the particular image as remembered.

In this exhibition his works are shown grouped in small series. This highlights the interplay between various remembered themes, well illustrated in the series derived from the Wild West. These are grouped around the work Dyin’ ain’t much of a livin’, an image of a cowboy leaning against a tree in a relatively finished landscape. This picture is supported by Two Cowboys and Cacti, the former recalling figures sleeping under Stetsons typical of cowboy films.

However, even when one feels that Palin is making clear references there is a strong element of ambiguity, and even an invitation to set any obvious interpretation aside. For example, are the Cacti two massive plants in a desert landscape, or two small plants in a modern domestic interior? Is the figure in Dyin’ ain’t much of a livin’ a (fictional) cowboy, or a modern character in a modern cityscape? Indeed, the title of the picture might be suggestive of social commentary or even the futility of a modern existence.