Leaves Turn Inside You
Charlie Hodgson
David Dale Gallery
Installation view, Charlie Hodgson, Leaves Turn Inside You, David Dale Gallery, 2024
Installation view, Charlie Hodgson, Leaves Turn Inside You, David Dale Gallery, 2024
Charlie Hodgson, ‘Owl on Composite’, oil on canvas, 2024
Charlie Hodgson, ‘Bather (Emma)’, oil on canvas, 2024
Charlie Hodgson, ‘Study for Ruins’, oil on canvas, 2024
Charlie Hodgson, ‘Bather (Hannah)’, oil on canvas, 2024
Charlie Hodgson, ‘Envelope’, oil on canvas, 2024
Charlie Hodgson, ‘Tree’, oil on canvas, 2024
Leaves Turn Inside You
22/03—27/04/2024
Friday–Saturday: 12-6 pm + by appointment.
He asked for my number and I gave it to him, my real number, because although I did think of giving him an incorrect digit, deep down, so deep that I do not think there, I wanted him to call me so I could hear his turbulence. He was incredibly ugly and horrid in appearance but I wanted him to phone because, and this is going to sound grim, I wanted him to actually say, or at least feel, how upset he was that my car had touched his car, because I did not crash or bump him or his car, I just touched it, I felt the touch happen, there was no damage but this touch, almost casual, had really, really upset him. He had felt it too, from inside his car he felt the same thing I felt, symmetrically, and it hurt him, his car was unhurt, but this, the most protracted touch, through metal and oil, this contact, this faint impact, he felt it and he did not like it. I barely noticed, but he did, and I wanted him to say this, to just say I had wound him up.
If he phones me, whatever he is going to say or feel tomorrow, or the next day, is going to be poisoned by his feelings about this delicate, mutual touching. There would be the reality of there being no damage to his car but he would still be angry because a woman, infinitely more beautiful, attractive, creative, more fertile than him, had accidentally, perhaps pointlessly, made him feel this impact in a place where there should be no contact with strangers, in his driver’s seat, in the safe interior space behind his wheel, and not liking the unbidden intrusion into his comfort
– Sarah Tripp
Two other texts , written by Kate Power and Olivia Wiles, are available in print at the gallery or via the gallery’s website.
Photo credit: Max Slaven