The Performative connects our four artists, be it theatrical, studio-based work or more subtle scenarios that point to the intervention of the artist, minus characters to play out the drama. There are essentially two extremities involved in the nature taking a photograph, both with their own inherent sophisms: (1) the camera reproduces the truth of the view before it, with no intervention form outside influences (i.e. the person pushing the button); and (2) the photograph is a construct that is completely and utterly controlled by the photographer (i.e. the magician/genius/god-like figure pushing the button). Both views are inherently problematic but that’s a discourse best addressed in other forums. The artists in this group of exhibitions sit closer to the latter.

Ray Cook’s work is firmly fixed to the studio. He delves into the human psyche and the legacy of symbolism, while investigating the role of gay imagery in the history of pictorial representation. The tragi-comedy of the sideshow performer, the beauty of the human figure and the pain of loves and lives lost underpin his work. Cook considers how homosexuality has (somewhat) subversively pervaded populist iconography - previously rigorously camouflaged while in more recent times openly embedded in mainstream and artistic imagery.

As a broader social acceptance – a term I lamentably use with caution – has evolved over recent decades, gay representation has developed into a less coherent (or is that less stereotypical in the straight viewers’ eyes?) and more iconoclastic realm. The straight world has often derided then later assimilated symbols that connoted homosexuality. Cook plays on these changes in social attitudes, on notions of camp and carnivalesque, on the homo-erotica of sport, on fashion photography’s use of the male to sell jeans. He reflects upon the journey of his life, the impact of HIV/AIDS and the role of the macho male in contemporary society. And he manages to do it with an ever-present grin.

By contrast, Hannah Broom’s art revolves around the female. She considers women’s role in society, their identity, their sexuality and their interactions with each other. Puns are particularly apparent in the titles of Broome’s work as can be seen in Come in peace, which also raises political issues. To a Simpsons aficionado, the peas/peace reference is unmissable, but there is more to the image. The peas are strewn with toy soldiers, spewed forth from an unseen protagonist across a welcome mat. A first reading is obvious, but the piece has several deeper layers regarding gender roles, the treatment of women and wartime atrocities.

Similarly Broom’s use of offal points to elemental symbolism regarding treatment of women, but once again these works sit deeper in the water. Social issues are at the fore including the objectification of women and sex crimes. On a tangent, there’s even a suggestion of Darwinianism in those Freudian overtones. Like Cook, Broom finds space for some humour when contemplating important social issues.

Implied narratives inhabit Kate Bernauer’s work, narratives about relationships and one place’s in the world. Stories are suggested but not explicit, and the absurd is ever present. She delves into human frailties. A young woman tends to an unlikely plant shoot that has found its way through the concrete jungle. One bauble of fruit sits alone the single branch of the leafless plant. In a struggle against adversity the trampled can still survive. Or is the whole experience a glimpse of the ridiculous? A fish valiantly makes it way to the ocean, seeking its natural place in the world. Well, a fish of sorts. This work finds inspiration in a bizarre tragedy of one man’s obsession.

Young men are caught in dreamlike states. They’re not forlorn, but distant. The background to these images, and the fish-woman series, provide a local audience with a sense of familiarity, drawing them into Bernauer’s allegorical state of limbo.

Meanwhile, restraint underpins the somewhat absurdist imagery of Paul Mumme. Unlike his earlier video work, the figure is often absent in these pieces - but human presence is unmistakable. The futile act is key to each of the pieces, with more than a passing nod to the Surrealists.

Domestic objects are tethered and bound, nullifying their intended use – they are effectively muted. A painting and clock cannot be properly viewed, a wardrobe of clothes and towels are lashed down like a boat’s cargo. The images have a sense of the bizarre but also paranoia – what force will enter this house and demolish or steal these items? It’s safekeeping against the ridiculously implausible. It is also an effort to ensure that things stay the same as much as possible, regardless of thew impact. Like Bernauer, Mumme utilises implied narratives. His new video work mines the current water debate as a starting point. Ultimately it’s a self-defeating act, attempting to capture the escaping water; water, one presumes, released by the protagonist.

We are offered a glimpse of scenes we don’t know but find familiar. These are not film stills or snapshots of daily lives. The scenarios exist, by necessity, outside of preconceived notions of story telling. We are part of the tale but we don’t really know the plot, so we piece it together as best we can. And in the end, we are all Performative.