I first came across Jamie Partridge’s work at the Jerwood Painting Prize in 2009. His paintings have a kind of scruffy slacker aesthetic that I really like. They are modest but there is a lot going on. A range of different layers come together to give a genuine feeling of time spent. It’s clear that their composition and execution is highly considered and yet they manage not to be fussy or laboured.
There is no formula for producing good abstract painting (the overabundance of woeful efforts filling commercial galleries nationwide is a testament to this) and so when something hits the mark it should be celebrated. Partridge’s paintings hit the mark. In addition to the qualities aforementioned there is a gratifying irreverence about them, they seem to send up the notion of mysticism without being overtly ironic. It is not about pastiche or parody but rather a demonstration of purposeful endeavour which doesn’t feel it needs to make a point about being earnest.
