Undersea is the latest exhibition on a maritime theme, curated by art historian James Russell, for the Hastings Contemporary. It completes a trilogy following Seaside Modern (2021) and (2022). This show feels more otherworldly and magical, looking at art which uses the impossible and improbable underwater landscape and features to inspire creative and humorous responses. Some of the pieces chosen are exceptional, and I chose to write about a few of these individual works that were so exciting to see up close.
An international approach highlights work from different cultures, and there are some impressive woodcuts from Japan of women divers from the very early twentieth century. These fit well with the gallery location on the working fishing beach, but the first piece that really struck me was the Thomas Lowinsky tempera painting, ‘The Dawn of Venus’, 1922. The surface texture of the painting is phenomenal, detailed and decorative, and his take on Venus as a contemporary-feeling fantasy piece is outstanding. The decorative textures combined with the smooth modelling predate later hyper-realistic art as well as being firmly symbolic, and the pearlised and shiny surface feels appropriate for studying rocks and shells and life underwater.
There is a stunning expressive lobster by Oskar Kokoschka, simply called ‘A lobster’ (1946), but I was next drawn to two contemporary pieces from feminist perspectives. One of the imaginative delights of the show is how the works move between generations and the influence of art-school ideas and Pen Dalton’s cutout screenprint ‘The Little Mermaid’ (1985) plays with texts about the self-torture aspect of lithosuction and the pain experienced by the transformation of the central character in Hans Christian Andersen’s story. A handwoven piece, which is impressive for its craft but mostly for its aesthetic, remakes the idea of Sirens as a tapestry, with headless bodies sitting on the rocks. ‘Sirens (Infinite Beings)’ by Mia Weiner (2023) is a standout piece, hung in a plain space to give it clarity. The chosen colours, turquoise and silver, suggest light on the waves, but as the information text points out, one of the most arresting facets is that the bodies still look as though they are observing, all from their poses, despite having their heads cut sharply off. The composition and choices align the picture with 1930s surrealist choices of dismembered bodies in deserted spaces that were taken to represent the unconscious mind. One imagines that if Salvador Dali’s Lobster Telephone (1936) had been available, it would have taken centre stage.
Upstairs, I find my favourite pieces of the show, John Craxton’s ‘Still Life with Cat and Child’ (1959) and ‘Small Fish’ (1956). Strangely enough, they are not underwater scenes at all, although they feature underwater creatures. The larger picture shows a lobster on the dining plate and the smaller one shows a fish with a human head. They are comic without being comedy; the humour and delight are in the line, the space, the angles, and the colours, and they are domestic and observational. Note to self to discover more of Craxton’s work for the visual pleasure it offers.
It’s exciting to see a Stanley William Hayter painting, rather than one of the prints for which he is famous. It still shows the same signature obsession with automatic drawing, although not with the same wow factor as his viscosity colour work. Russell has put the wow factor in for the show by the use of a very large and splendid frame with a fashionable 1960s or 1970s vibe, and it really works to make the painting sing to its strengths. It certainly is of interest to printmakers to see one of his paintings in this context, ‘Fish in the Escoulay’ (1951).
A room dedicated to representations of the sea by living Australian Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander artists has works that seem natural and responsive, using ochres and lines, painted on bark and organic substrates. Artists include David Bosun (b. 1973), Doris Gingingara (b. 1946), Victor Motlop (b. 1961) and Alan Palm (b.1961).
The final piece I want to draw attention to is one of the largest works, ‘A Siren in Full Moonlight’ (1940) by Paul Delvaux. To see this large oil painting, a classic of surrealism with all of Delvaux’s romantic and fantasy obsessions, was a great gift from this exhibition. Delvaux’s extreme style is on display here, with its disturbing yet benign nudes and architectural modelling. It is a night study, which might suggest the darkness of underwater imagery, but the moon lights the classical (Venetian?) setting on which the mermaid reclines in an impossible geometry. The stillness of this painterly unconscious drinks the viewer down its tree-lined avenue into a temple-like city. The picture brings a sense of wonder, even on a brightly lit late morning.
I would like to have spent more time with the creatures that sprawl and crawl beneath the waves and across the seabed, marvel at those humans who fight the underwater monsters, enjoy the fantastical flights of fancy and laugh with the illustrators who have used the imagery of sea creatures to give a sense of strangeness and even comedy to human ideas. But I have to emerge, and when I do, it’s a relief to be still in a maritime setting and enjoy the location that inspired the exhibitions.
Running alongside the show is a parallel exhibition in partnership with the Hastings Fishermen’s Protection Society, which celebrates the living histories of the fishing community. Jane Bruce has designed the installation, which features a soundscape and oral history piece by Mary Hooper and films by Sam Sharples and Nichola Bruce.
Undersea, Hastings Contemporary, 29 March – 14 September 2025