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SAMSUNGAs the sun sets over Dalston we stand outside Byron Pritchard’s new exhibition in the newly built Eternal Youth shop then home to the canned coconut water drink Fountain Of Youth.

Although the store is bare, boxes and cans of the legendary refreshing nectar hang out here and there. The walls have been lined with blown up reproduction of national flags: China, India and Pakistan are three of the four nations, pasted, wall length. On each appears sporadic printed messages like “Fighting tigers and flies at the same time”: Echo to the revolutionary Tamil Tiger army or simple cogito? It’s left to the viewer to appreciate and think. I catch Pritchard (left).

‘So what’s your exhibition about?’

‘Did you get yourself a Press release? You’re gonna get me going all night…’Pritchard disappears, swallowed into another discussion. It’s warm outside and there’s beer.

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Rhetoric was once the art of debating: effective speaking and persuasion. Rhyme, repeat and colour your words giving them strength, order and value; inflect on reason and command to oblige. Which doesn’t make me less of a dictator. What should I pray for? Peace? Freedom is ambiguous: one’s terror is one’s saviour. You either defend or attack; each act to the detriment of one another. Noisy background and speakers bellow random passages of political speeches.  Is it Malcolm X?

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‘How do you go on writing about art?’

‘I don’t’ know, I just let things soak in,’ I say. ‘I stand in the middle and look at people, analyse reactions. The most important is to make sense of it. When you can. Art is a work in process… sorry slip of the tongue: art is a work in progress, in a process.’ Weak use of Rhetoric. Not impressed. Not debatable.SAMSUNG

Pages are falling off the wall but the printing is of good quality. Cheap manufacturing, if only. Blue tacked A3 size coloured sheets. Here is another idea…Posters. Posters are channeling media.

Installment of power by debate. But what are humans in the spectrum of politics? Influenceable ears. White ink slogan printed on white paper. Malevitch’s White on White (1918) obliteration. The message is hazy. Disappears yet inherent.

‘I never aim to give anyone a message,’ Pritchard says. ‘I really want people to come and see and ask their own questions and create their own message.’

Critique or simple statement? Who knows. It’s warm outside.

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Gilbert and George passing by.

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