Edwin Burdis @ Jupiter Artland

Entering the long narrow room of Burdis’ The Thickening is to be confronted immediately with a series of vividly coloured, large paintings. Subject matter is ambiguous as shapes and colours coalesce into bizarre natural forms; ventricular tubes and amorphous red blobs sitting alongside sickly green colour fields.

From the other side of the room, an ominous low bass note emanates from strangely shaped motifs cut into the wall. Their forms echo the paintings and they’re covered by what appears to be red jersey material. It’s almost pulsing with the noise, the thin skein of cloth evidently another bodily analogue. A series of strange voice-like bleeps and boops follow shortly after, like the metronomic ticking of a till checkout, or a life support machine perhaps.

In front of these cut-outs sits a strange object, about the size of a family car. On one side it is painted in a nauseous stramash of colours – strange spermlike wriggles dancing across its surface. And on top, there’s a large phallic protrusion. Behind, facing the red jersey membranes, is a large hollow receding into the sculpture. With walls lined with a thick, black fur and strange twinkling lights, could this be a counterpoint to the phallus prodding out the top? More spermy squiggles circle the surrounding surface, chancing the edge of the void within.

When understood that this work is a response by Burdis to his mother’s cancer-related death, the sickly contrast of colours and bodily comparisons take a new sense. They become testament to the painful discomfort and visceral realities of the experience of becoming a patient. Without dirge or gratuitous gore, the difficult realities of the patient experience are addressed with plenty space for humour and play.