Habonde (Entity Effigy Series)

I’ve always been fascinated with the strange and unusual forms that nature throws up. This is especially true when it comes to vines, roots and branches etc.; materials that I’ve collected for years and which I’ve often incorporated in my work. Similar to the way I created some of my earlier minimal intervention sculptures (basically, just found materials where I’ve done the bare minimum required to change them into something vaguely approaching art), I’ve started work on a new series of small semi/barely-figurative pieces that I’m calling my Entity Effigies. Rather than being actual sculptures I’m considering them more as contemplation pieces, as inspiration for potential further works (drawings and paintings).

‘Habonde’ (detail), from 'Entity' effigy series, 2025, artist - Wayne Chisnall

This one, I’ve named ‘Habonde’, after the Medieval European folklore figure Dame Habonde (derived from the earlier Roman goddess Abundantia), a beneficent fairy or benevolent spirit who brings good fortune to the homes she visits at night. The crown-like structure at the ‘head’ of the effigy, and it’s overall hedgerow aesthetic, brought to my mind the idea of a fairy queen, the obvious candidate being Queen Mab from Shakespeare’s ‘A Midsummer Night’sDream’. Some believe that Shakespeare’s Mab was derivative of the folklore character of Dame Habonde and the reason I chose the name Habonde over Mab (‘Mab’ probably being a much cooler name for the piece) is that I preferred the Habonde stage in the evolution of this entity’s mythos. While the Roman Abundantia was a personification of the concept of abundance, she thrived more in her folkloric form in Roman Gaul and Medieval France as Dame Habonde or Domina Adundia (Latin for ‘Mistress Adundance’), where she was described as a ‘white-clad’ lady who, accompanied by other ‘night ladies’ or ‘dominae’, would enter people’s homes at night. Although seen as a figure of blessing and good fortune, the Christian Church (ever intolerant of earlier or native belief systems) took a dimmer view, associating such beliefs with witchcraft.

‘Habonde’ (detail), from 'Entity' effigy series, 2025, artist - Wayne Chisnall

But getting back to the actual physical effigy itself, the display mechanism that I came up for it is a stand made from a brass rod and a rock base. First I sanded the bottom of the rock to give it a flat even surface and then I drilled a hole into the top for the rod could slot into. I like how this worked with the effigy itself; the materials complimenting one another. I feel that the stand both grounds the piece whilst allowed it hover almost ethereally.

‘Habonde’, from 'Entity' effigy series, 2025, artist - Wayne Chisnall

Interestingly, I only noticed whilst sanding and polishing the bottom of the rock that it was mostly made up of fossils. Maybe this is why I picked up the rock in the first place, from wherever I originally found it (maybe one of the local old quarries or possibly from a trip to the beach). Until now, it had just been knocking around my workshop amongst all the boxes of interesting finds.

National Mesmeric (Occult TV – after Test Card F)

Started (and almost completed) in 2018, ‘National Mesmeric’ had until now sat in my studio, largely ignored. Shortly after starting the piece, I began to experiment with a more fluid approach to oil painting and it then became my intention to eventually revisit ‘National Mesmeric’ and drastically rework it. But after recent re-examination of it, I’ve come to appreciate it as an exemplar of the body of work that I was producing at the time and thus went back to my original idea for the finishing touches needed to realise it.

‘National Mesmeric’, 2018-2025, 1.5 m x 1.2 m, oil painting, inspired by BBC’s Test Card F’ 

One of the most potent and strangely hypnotic symbols from the days of analogue TV in the UK has to be the BBC’s ‘Test Card F’ that was used from 1967 until the late 90s. As well as being a colour calibration tool, the test card was also used as a visual place holder, back in the days when there were large chunks of daytime in which no programs were scheduled, and no programs aired during the night.

Wayne Chisnall, artist in studio in 2018

As I’m sure is the case with many millions of other British viewers, I remember a childhood in which I spent what felt like hours at a time, staring at the static image of the test card, waiting for a favourite TV program to start. And it’s this idea of a collective mesmerisation that inspired me to create this painting. I thought about all the separate minds viewing the same uncanny image at the same exact time; something that was only possible in the pre-digital, pre-watch-on-demand days of analogue TV. I wondered what strange and dark influence this image had on a nation, collectively waiting impatiently. And I wondered if, like me, others saw things in the test card that weren’t really there. My version of the test card is grossly exaggerated, but as a child I did see the toy clown’s body as a skull-like green mask. 

'National Mesmeric' (detail)

It was only after posting a work-in-progress photo of National Mesmeric online that I received feedback from others who also saw the skull. I’ve since heard other people’s experiences and family stories relating to Test Card F.  One such story is of a friend’s father who used to tell him and his brothers, when they were little, that the girl in image would occasionally blink. Every now and then the dad would point at the TV and shout ‘there, you just missed it’. Even today I think the test card holds a strange power over people of a certain generation.

On The Origin Of Risk

Nowadays, I’m primarily known as a contemporary/fine artist, but one of my fondest memories of any of my art-related activities is still that of the first time I ever saw my work in print. It way back in the late 80s, when I walked into my local newsagent and picked up a copy of the first national magazine I ever illustrated for. And to this day I still get a kick out of seeing any of my work appear in books or magazines (be it my sculptures, paintings or illustrations). So I was delighted when the author Adam Timlett (who I was previously aware of through a SciArt collaboration he has with a friend of mine, the artist James White) approached me about illustrating the cover for his upcoming book (now out in hardback and as a Kindle option).

Adam and I met in a little café in West London in October last year (during my annual pilgrimage to the insanity that is Frieze Week) to discuss the book and what sort of images might work well for the cover illustration. I was fascinated by everything he told me about his research. Well, the bits that didn’t go completely over my head, that is. We threw around a few ideas and I scribbled down a load of thumbnail sketches to act as personal visual prompts for later. We came up with lots of interesting ideas for potential cover designs but the main gist of them all was that the image had to convey elements of risk, and biology or evolution, and possibly, but not necessarily, AI. 

You can see a couple of my preliminary sketches here in this post, but not wanting to bore you with all of them I’d like to focus on what led up to the final design. The finished product was put together by the cover designer, Nicola Nahum, who took my digital drawings/redesigning of a queen playing card (the queen bee representing nature/biology and the playing card representing risk) and created this beautifully and minimally laid out cover design.

 

To do the contents of the book justice, I’ve pretty much lifted the following description of what it’s about from the back cover. On the Origin of Risk (subtitle: What organisations, AI researchers & even physicists need to learn from cutting-edge biology, and why) presents a new way of understanding the deep biases we have in the business and scientific communities in our theories of risk and the core concepts we use to manage risk, especially as organisations.

It presents the evidence and argument from cutting-edge biology that risk is managed differently in organisms in Nature, and that we must learn from Nature in order to develop new theories and lead our mathematics of risk in new directions.

It argues that new biology shakes the fundamental assumptions of both the scientific and business communities.

The final half of the book sketches out what these new directions look like. It presents the beginning of a new way to look at problems of risk, including a technical appendix that adds detail on the new mathematics of risk which leverages our latest empirical knowledge of biological systems and original research by the author.

 

If you’d like to order a copy you can click here for a hardback version and here for a Kindle version.

Celebrating The Work, Life & Genius of Brian Catling

Some years ago I chanced upon the work of Brian Catling when I discovered his novel, The Vorrh, in a second-hand book shop. The book’s cover featured endorsements from such greats as Alan Moore, Philip Pullman, Terry Gilliam, Ian Sinclair, Tom Waits, and others, so naturally I had to read it. And I wasn’t disappointed. I devoured the book. It may be the most imaginative book I’ve ever read. It was only later I discovered that Catling was not only an amazing novelist, but also a poet, sculptor, painter, and performance artist.

So when I was invited to take part in a London event, celebrating the legacies and genius of the man (who sadly died in 2022), I jumped at the offer. The event will involve a weekend and 2 Nights of Art, Performance, Readings, Film and Discussion, and feature the work of over 40 artists.

My contribution to the weekend event will be an exhibition of 3 relatively new sculptures that I’ve not previously exhibited. They are Metamorphosis, and 2 of my wall-mounted giant mask pieces, Fetish Face and Rug Face.

I was also delighted to find out that some of the artists that I’ll be exhibiting alongside, I already know, or, I’m already familiar with their work. Some of them I’ve previously communicated with but have not actually met in person (such is the way of the online world now). Others, I’ve known for years, having previously collaborated with, or been in art collectives with; art collectives such as FOAD and the London Biennale free-form artist initiative (founded by the late David Medalla, and AdamNankervis).

Here’s a bit a couple of paragraphs about Brian and the Candid Arts event, that I lifted from ArtRabbit (which I suspect was lifted from somewhere else):

“Brian Catling's world is not one of comfort or entertainment, but of red dreams and visceral experience, one probably getting as close as anyone to the one William Blake envisioned centuries ago.

A British sculptor, poet, novelist, film maker and performance artist, Brian Catling died in 2022 and this event seeks to evoke his presence again by assembling a group of artists, writers and performers who combine to present their works as shadows of his gigantic presence. This weekend offers oblique glimpses into such realms of imagination, from haunting poetry and dark rituals to mesmerizing paintings, sculpture and berserk novels, to uncover the necessary occult that lurks within us...”

Venue: Candid Arts 3 Torrens Street, London, EC1V 1NQ · (020) 7837 4237

Friday 30th & Saturday 31st August (6pm - 10pm)

Sunday 1st September (1pm - 6pm)

Free entrance

 

Weekend donations will go towards the Candid Arts Centre Survival Campaign.

 

Release

Following on from ‘Constrictor’ (or ‘Lesser Love Constrictor’. I’m still not settled on a title yet), ‘Release’ is the latest piece in my ‘Never let You Go’ series of sculptures; a series in which I’ve been making hand-stitched (because Lycra/Elastane is a bugger to sew using a sewing machine), stuffed, fabric sausages that were initially each trapped within the tight embraces of mostly elongated, rib cage-like, vine structures. However, ‘Release’ has diverged from the rest of the sculptures in the series by being a piece that is about breaking free from confinement.

 

'Release', 2024, artist Wayne Chisnall

When making the piece, I intended the sausage element to appear as if it has burst out (as if from under high pressure) from some device in which it had long been imprisoned. Now I look at it, the thought of a gene emerging from an ancient and barnacle-encrusted lamp comes to mind, but I don’t think that was part of my original intention. I have been reading a lot of folk and fairy tales lately, so maybe that’s colouring my perception.

 

'Release' (detail), 2024, artist Wayne Chisnall

The base of the sculpture is a piece of 50s or 60s car gearbox that I found on a recent holiday/material gathering expedition when an old school friend, Ian Armstrong, and I stayed at his family’s cottage on the Scottish Isle of Barra in the Outer Hebrides. Initially, I picked up the salt and weather-corroded chuck of metal because I loved its intrinsic sculptural qualities. Now I’m trying to work out if this component triggered the idea for the sculpture, or whether I partly formed the idea for the sculpture and then realised that the bit of machinery would make the idea work. Chicken or egg time, I guess!

'Release', 2024, artist Wayne Chisnall

Metamorphosis

I’ve always been drawn to the Uncanny, whether it been in art, cinema, or literature. This leaning may have played a part in what emerged during my recent play session with some bits and pieces from my found materials collection.

'Metamorphosis', 2024, artist Wayne Chisnall

I started this piece (which I’ve titled ‘Metamorphosis’), firstly by smashing a porcelain figurine and then building up sections of roots to give the impression of something emerging from within. I like how the roots have an insect or alien-like look to them; an aspect made all the more sinister when contrasted with the rather homely appearance of the figurine, an item usually associated with the safe and often chintzy world of dear little old ladies.

'Metamorphosis', 2024, artist Wayne Chisnall

As with most sculptural endeavours, I find lots of overlapping ideas flowing through my mind when sculpting. Whilst making this one my thoughts turned to that of insects emerging from cocoons, Franz Kafka’s novella The Metamorphosis, of the alien from John Carpenter’s classic 1982 movie The Thing (sci-fi and horror movies are probably more of an influence on my artwork than I’m generally willing to admit), of Raggety, the woodland troll-creature from the Rupert The Bear children’s books, of intestines, of fairy tales, and probably a lot more besides.

'Metamorphosis', 2024, artist Wayne Chisnall

Incidentally, it was rather enjoyable getting to smash up a porcelain figurine.

'Metamorphosis', 2024, artist Wayne Chisnall

 

Love Constrictor

‘Constrictor’ (or ‘Lesser Love Constrictor’. I’m still not settled on a title yet) is the latest piece in my ‘Never let You Go’ series of sculptures; a series in which I’ve been making hand-stitched (because Lycra/elastane is a bugger to sew using a sewing machine), stuffed, fabric sausages that are each trapped within the tight embraces of mostly elongated, rib cage-like, vine structures.

 

'Constrictor' sculpture by Wayne Chisnall

Constrictor is all about fear, desire and growth. It can be seen as representing the fear of losing someone, and of holding on so tightly to them that it restricts that person’s growth or development, and makes them want to break free from the relationship. Also, I just think that the sausage bulging between the vines ‘limbs’ looks amusing, and I like the contrast between the vivid pink of the smooth fabric and the textured earthy tones of the vines.

detail of  'Constrictor' sculpture by Wayne Chisnall

Early on in the project I made a small test piece using a cotton fabric but after I'd hand stitched it, stuffed it, and inserted it into the vine structure that I'd prepared for it, I found that it didn't have the right amount of 'bulginess' between the vine's stems, that I was looking for. Hence the switch to a stretchier material.

3 views of 'Constrictor' sculpture by Wayne Chisnall

 

Secret 7 Auction – Artists Revealed 2024

Now that 2024's Secret 7 has taken place I can reveal that the 7” single record sleeve I designed for the charity auction was number 167 of 700, for the song ‘Skipping Like a Stone’ by The Chemical Brothers (featuring Beck).

front of  The Chemical Brothers' Secret 7 'Skipping Like a Stone' record sleeve, designed by Wayne Chisnall

If you're not familiar with Secret 7, here's the concept - the organisers of the project take 7 tracks from 7 musicians and press each one as a 7" single, 100 times. They then invite artists and designers to interpret the tracks in their own style and create one-off record sleeves for the individual 7" vinyl records. The resulting 700 1-of-a-kind sleeves, containing the 7" vinyl records, are then exhibited anonymously (that's where the secret part comes into play) at NOW Gallery and can be purchased via an online auction. Proceeds of the auction go to War Child UK, who help support children in the World’s conflict zones.

rear of The Chemical Brothers' Secret 7 'Skipping Like a Stone' record sleeve, designed by Wayne Chisnall

This year’s 7 tracks were Aurora's A Different Kind of Human, Stop This Flame by Celeste, Skipping Like a Stone by The Chemical Brothers, Hozier's Swan Upon Leda, Pipes of Peace by Paul McCartney, Lullaby by Siouxsie And The Banshees, and We Sell Hope by The Specials. 

unused, alternative rear of The Chemical Brothers' Secret 7 'Skipping Like a Stone' record sleeve, designed by Wayne Chisnall

Horned God Orifice Box

This small box sculpture is primarily inspired by one of my earlier sculptures – a wall-mounted, low relief sculpture, simply called ‘Orifice’ (because of its carved wooden aperture) that I made 8 years earlier in 2002.

 

'Horned God Orifice Box' by artist Wayne Chisnall

The other influence for the piece is the figure of Cernunnos, the horned god from Celtic mythology. The HornedGod is also one of the two primary deities found in Wicca and some related forms of Neopaganism, representing the male part of the religion's duotheistic theological system - the consort of the female Triple Goddess of the Moon or other Mother goddesses. As you can see from the photos, I used small branches to allude to the horned element of the god in question. Even though it’s wood emerging from wood, I like the way that the flat dimensions of the box structure contrast with the organic forms of the ‘horns’.

 

The Cernunnos-type antlered figure or horned god, on the Gundestrup Cauldron, on display, at the National Museum of Denmark in Copenhagen

Evolving out of a long series of small, wheeled box sculptures (that were themselves a progression from my earlier box tower sculpture, The City), Horned God Orifice Box is the first of these small box pieces that dispensed with the magnified glass window, and instead adopted the carved wooden orifice.

 

'Horned God Orifice Box' by artist Wayne Chisnall

As well as the obvious sexual interpretation of the orifice element (as manifest in the top section of this piece), my main interest in the device, lies in it being the portal between the internal and the external.

 

'Horned God Orifice Box' (rear view) by artist Wayne Chisnall

The actual inspiration for the original 'Orifice' sculpture came to me around 1999/2000 (when I was working as a cycle courier in London) as I saw a van drive past me with a puncture hole in its side, and I noticed how the metal around the puncture had taken on a strangely organic appearance, not too dissimilar to the swollen and raised skin around a small cut that I had on the back of my hand at the time. It's strange where and when inspiration for artwork can come from. Maybe if I hadn't spotted that van at that particular moment in time, a whole body of work wouldn't now exist.

 

'Horned God Orifice Box' by artist Wayne Chisnall

Title: Horned God Orifice Box. Dimensions: 41 x 37 x 23.4 cm. Materials: wood and metal. Date: 2010

A Brief History of Magnet

I’ve lost count of how many exhibitions my toys tower sculpture, ‘Magnet’, has been in. However, some of my favourite shows that Magnet has appeared in, that do instantly spring to mind, are 2017’s 'The Toy Box: From Pop to The Present', at the Civic, Barnsley, South Yorkshire, 2015’s 'Toys (Are Us)', at the Crypt Gallery, below St. Pancras New Church, Euston Rd. London, my 2014 solo show, 'Dreams of Being Batman', at the Vaults Gallery, Waterloo, London, the 'States of Reverie' exhibition at Scream gallery, Mayfair, London in 2011 (this one is partly more memorable because of the number of famous people that turned up to the opening party, probably because the gallery was owned by two of the sons of Ronnie Wood from the Rolling Stones), and 2006’s Royal British Society of Sculptors’ ‘Contemporary Sculpture Show' at the Rollo Gallery, Islington, London.

 

'Magnet' by artist Wayne Chisnall, at 'Toys (Are Us)' exhibition, Crypt Gallery, London

'Magnet' is part of a series of four wheeled tower sculptures (the others being The City, Book Tower and Fetish); each relating to a different aspect of our relationship with material possessions, and how our psychological attachment to large quantities of physical objects limit our freedom and mobility.  

'Magnet' (detail) by artist Wayne Chisnall

Originally titled 'Toy Tower', I renamed my sculpture 'Magnet' after its first showing when it became evident that its powers of attraction seemed to work on children and adults in equal measure. On the first day of Magnet’s first exhibition the person invigilating told me that he had looked over to where my sculpture should have been, only to find that it had disappeared. Apparently four little boys had managed to sneak the piece out into the street before being chased off by the invigilator, who wheeled the sculpture back into the gallery.

'Magnet' at 'States of Reverie' exhibition, Scream gallery, Mayfair, London

Magnet is now in the permanent collection of the Black Gold Museum (which was originally due to open in July 2022) in Saudi Arabia, which aims to provide a narration of the history of oil during human life by showcasing more than 200 contemporary pieces of art. The museum, which is the first of its kind in the Kingdom, will be inaugurated in partnership with the King Abdullah Petroleum Studies and Research Centre (KAPSARC) at the centre’s headquarters in Riyadh.

 

Black Gold Museum, King Abdullah Petroleum Studies & Research Centre, Riyadh.

It's odd not having Magnet around anymore as it's one of the earliest sculptures I created (way back in 1999) and had been a colourful presence around the place for over two decades - especially since most of my later sculptures tend to lean towards the brown end of the colour spectrum. Two compensate for its absence I think that I might create some new, brightly coloured sculptures. I already have a few ideas but, not wanting to jinx anything, I’ll won’t go into any details about them until nearer the time of their completion.

'Magnet' at Royal British Society of Sculptors 'Contemporary Sculpture Show', Rollo Gallery, London

'Magnet' & friend at 'Affluenza' exhibition, St. John St. Clerkenwell, London 2009