An Exhibition of the Life’s Work of G. E. ‘Glamorous’ Quenzelcroft
The quintessential outsider artist, Quenzelcroft’s unique contributions to humanity’s creative efforts have never been properly appreciated, whether in her own time or long after her death. It is the hope of the curator that this exhibition will correct this historical oversight and bring fresh light into the unique spark of inspiration that lies within each and every one of us.
1985: Raccoon on My Dad’s Face
This is the earliest known example of Quenzelcroft’s serious artistic effort, although it is clearly the creation of an established artist at age six. Possibly even older works exist and are waiting to be found – or have been destroyed by time and neglect (a grim thought!).
This piece exalts the raw, immanent violence of life while dismantling the ephemeral societal constructs that we hold as solid and immovable facts of reality by placing them in sharp contrast: the father, clawed and bitten and noseless; the raccoon, ascendant and enormously puffed-up in screaming fury. The stark violence of the moment is rendered all the more meaningful by its medium: the attempted sterility of a police report.
1991: Pasta in the Walls
A recent discovery that is first presented to the public within this exhibition, Pasta in the Walls closes the hitherto-mysterious ‘fourteen-year-gap’ by revealing that Quenzelcroft was not idle, merely subtle. A renovation of her childhood home’s ventilation ducts uncovered this wonderful example of the message becoming the medium. As the work had become fused with its substrate, it is presented here along with the furnace components it remains affixed to. The rich, variegated patterning and artful spray signal the deft hand and spontaneous character that typify Quenzelcroft’s works in general, while the shattered bowl speaks to youthful vigour as yet unchecked by the confidence gained by age. The precise meaning of the ‘happy hippo’ patterning on the shards remains a subject of hot debate.
1999: Shooting My Computer with a Shotgun to Get the Demons Out
The lynchpin of the collection – and indeed the smoking gun that led to the discovery of Quenzelcroft upon its chance discovery in an antique landfill. Unsigned and uncredited, tracking down the original authorship took decades, but now it can be correctly attributed as the opening statement of the artist’s ‘mature’ career: Quenzelcroft’s confidence has now fully blossomed and no longer does she approach learning with the attitude of the student who seeks comprehension, but rather that of the master who chases enlightenment. The wild shot spread and poor muzzle velocity visible in the shattered hull of the CPU indicate that the tool chosen for this task was clearly makeshift and second-hand (original owner unknown, although the artist was a frequent visitor of Captain Crow’s Pawn & Guns), an attitude of insouciant carelessness further emphasized by the off-centre aim and yet subtly contradicted by the subsequent sixteen shots indicating a thorough and deliberate commitment to the goal. As pre-post-ironic critiques of Y2K Millenarianism go, you will find none better.
2007: I Am Very Old
This key work represents three radical innovations: here we see Quenzelcroft’s bold forays into new mediums, her careful toying with the idea of collaboration, and her most baldly-stated musings on both the meaning of her work and her life philosophy. In this extended conversation, scraped from a discarded cellphone, we have no fewer than three hours of mediations coded in layers of social interaction so profoundly deep as to be nigh-Marianas-level – her sadness over the death of her dog due to peanut ingestion; her wrath over her boyfriend’s refusal to apologize for insulting her car; her long-standing feud with her sister over the proper wallpaper in their youthful bedroom – we even learn here of her ambiguous feelings over her earliest work and her doubts of its lasting significance (and indeed it was this hint that led to the discovery of Raccoon on My Dad’s Face). The themes of addiction and identity are woven throughout the piece but never spoken aloud, a complex metacommentary on societal rules and regulations observed even when all involved are transparently aware that the artist is crossfaded to the gills on Wiser’s and mushrooms.
2012: Barbeque for One
Early scholarship on Quenzelcroft’s work sought to typify her as a compulsive introvert, consciously ignorant of the world outside her own explorations of humanity’s consciousness. This period of scholastic carelessness was abruptly dispelled with the identification of this piece from the auctioning of a private collection, where it had originally (and damningly incorrectly assigned to Peter J. Fullthrough. Despite sharing Fullthrough’s iconic use of honey-garlic sauce, in the violent crushing of every bone we can see the passion and single-minded focus in pursuit of vision that is unmistakably and inarguably Quenzelcroft, here making perhaps her most naked political commentary on consumption, capitalism, classism, and food poverty: the rank ruins of a five-course junk-food meal, spread among five half-destroyed trash cans that try and fail to contain the overflowing trash spread by the lustful indulgence of a singular elite. This can also be seen as a knowing and ironic self-commentary on Quenzelcroft’s part, proving that contrary to jealous words, she was neither unaware nor uncritical of her own foibles.
2016: This is So Much Harder than I’d Thought
Despite accusations of being a compulsive dabbler, the deep and profound collaboration in this work – the first seen since I Am Very Old – typifies Quenzelcroft as more of a distillery of insight; producing careful explorations into a theme or topic and then allowing her feelings and thoughts to mature over the years before sampling the fruits of the initial investment. While her earlier collaboration was impulsive and bold, here we see the smooth confidence and overwhelmingly focused force of a considered plan: her husband’s phalanges, crushed to near-dust by overwhelming force exerted during Quenzelcroft’s childbirth. That such beauty can come from such agony is one of the greatest truths of humanity, and in clutching her partner’s hand until the very bones tore themselves apart Quenzelcroft has once again perfectly unseated our assumptions and forced us to confront old truths in new light.
2022: Big Serrated Teeth Grinding Through My Mother’s Toes
The exhibition’s final work concludes with a somber note of the perils of the future: this is at present time the earliest known example of Quenzelcroft Jr.’s serious artistic effort, although even at age six it is tainted by a derivative imagination. Possibly older works exist that may reveal a bright and creative mind as yet untouched by the pressure of fame and the temptation to succumb to her mother’s legacy (a tragic thought).
A profound tunnel vision limits the scope of the piece, Quenzelcroft herself is invisible save for her foot, blood spattered from her maimed appendage; the raccoon is frozen in its least appealing aspect, hideous and wormlike and writhing amidst the trash, its maw seized about her mother’s foot. In her efforts to capture this instant more completely by the medium of a phone camera Quenzelcroft Jr. has only limited its emotion. There is still time for this artist to rediscover herself, but whether or not she will break free and soar on her own wings or plummet in the chains of the derivative remains to be seen.