- Venue
- The Ropewalk
- Location
- Yorkshire
Through the glass doors of the gallery, a conventional white art space is visible, cleanly hung with neat rows of glazed prints and drawings. Dominating the centre of the space however is something unexpected amid all this commercial gallery conservatism; a hulking monolithic glossy black soccer table atop a generous carpet of turf which is intensely green against the monochrome of the wall based work.
The Sporting League is a conceptual football league, in existence since 1985, which appears fully realised within the artist’s mind, and whilst self contained, the clean coherence of this project signifies that these are not merely the self indulgent outpourings of an inward looking individual. As the author of an imaginary world, Renshaw is sincere in his offer to us. His aim is not to deceive or blur the line between reality and fiction. If we choose to teeter here, we are tripped up by our own desire for escapism.
The persistent assertion and frankness of the artist’s make-believe is evidenced by his informal choice of materiality (predominantly biro on yellowing paper) and the humility of stylistic imperfection in his drawing and design. These aspects of the work serve as gentle prompts that The Sporting League resides firmly in the realm of imagination, and furthermore that imaginative space is a vital and healthy place which can be succinctly organised and sophisticated, not necessarily unregulated or obsessive. We are served with a reminder that regardless of whether we share our faith with a larger congregation, ultimately we are all solitary in terms of what motivates us in our belief.
On the right of the gallery, an entire wall is spanned by nine A1 sized framed text panels, laboriously completed by hand in biro on off-white paper. The yellowing paper quality references archival material and is suggestive of a (fictional?) history. These seem like the business end of the League; complex and insanely time consuming in their execution. Dry statistical data is presented in freehand and clearly these lists and tables are highly significant in the context of the project. Homogenized and textural from a distance; on close inspection they are in actual fact a fairly straightforward charting of the successes and failures throughout the sporting league seasons, though presented in this manner the information seems as impenetrable as the DNA code and yet similarly beautiful in its visual complexity and the thrill of understanding that this is the catalyst for everything consequential.
Across the room, the repetition and relentlessness provided by a male digital audio voice, relaying scores through headphones echoes the endless regularity of the text panels opposite. This poetic order and the unfaltering sureness of the voice are comforting and mesmeric. The isolation of the headphones adds to the security of this sensory escapism.
Towards the rear of the space are two contemporary glazed cabinets, one containing twenty six golden medals (one for each year of The Sporting League’s history since 1985). Each piece is modelled with a team logo and text in the same naive style as Renshaw’s wall based drawings and prints and beautifully presented with their coloured ribbons curled tightly for display against black velvet.
The second cabinet holds a large trophy. Crudely fashioned from baking foil, this assumes the appearance of a narrow stemmed classical silver goblet, ‘gilt’ within and sporting graceful pointed handles. The cup is an anomaly; seemingly precious behind glass, yet lopsided, cheaply made and caricatured by the wonky irregularity of Renshaw’s aesthetic. Incongruity of form is further emphasised by the bespoke base which is turned in ebony and professionally engraved with every winner since the League’s conception. The cup is strangely desirable and beguiling in light of its obvious humour. The time and expense expended for an outcome which is so apparently amateurish is endearingly executed. This isn’t down to a lack of sophistication however. Rather, it self-consciously addresses and rejects the attribution of value and the fetishisation of art and the museum object. Seriousness and profundity are determinedly undermined here and even this most treasured of League artefacts remains doggedly awkward in its conceptual transition into tangible form.
Hand drawn betting coupons are available so that visitors can try their luck at predicting scores for the opening fixtures of the forthcoming Sporting League season 2011 -12 between teams such as Bayerns, Universo Collunteen, Tranquilayers and Novia . The potential reward for our time is a diminuitive trophy crudely formed from the trademark aluminium foil; the base of which will be engraved with the winner’s name. A simple card ballot box awaits our vote. As we trust luck or our intuition, or are guided by a name or logo, any issue with authenticity seems insignificant.
A girl of perhaps eight presses her nose to the glass door and is soon accompanied by an older sibling and two adults. As they enter the space, the girl dashes excitedly towards the table, followed by the others. After a little initial uncertainty, perhaps about whether they are allowed to touch (it is rather magnificent in the gallery setting and has been customised with Rayinado [the official Sporting League sponsor] logos), they congregate around the table and begin to play out a tournament of their own. Suddenly a new dimension to the exhibition unfolds for me. This is clearly a portal to the exhibition; an entry-point. Having at first regarded the table as an altar, I now see it is a stage.
On the face of it, Renshaw’s interpretation of football is an arm’s length affair; dry and removed from the cold, gritty live pleasure and pain of the pitch, as though somehow condensed into a personal code. However, in witnessing the table come to life; conjuring live action, evoking shrieks of excitement and activating the space with sound and movement, I am fully transported to the emotional intensity of live play, as relayed by Renshaw’s fictional pundits and commentators in the book which accompanies the exhibition. As Renshaw himself has stated ‘Anticipation, the familiar sharp intake of breath, the adrenaline, the sound of the crowd, the great mass, the noise outside silently interiorized.’ It’s all here for the taking.
Ellie Collins is an artist and writer based in the UK.
