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ANNABEL McCOURT

WORK

'The artist set up the first meetings unsure of where they would lead, arriving to photograph strangers in the darkness of gardens and outhouses, and leaving the results more or less to chance. The neon sculpture clasped in each person’s hands came to symbolise the fragility of human connection, and the moment of mutual trust in which McCourt handed over this delicate, breakable object in return for their image. She was aware that one clumsy gesture could end the project, had the neon slipped out of their grasp and shattered, but that sense of precariousness only made the moment more precious.'
Orla Foster, Corridor8

‘Sorry’ has to be one of the most overworked words in the English language. It can be spoken out of a sense of obligation, a confessional impulse, to soften an email or as a catch-all for guilt, planted into our psyche long before we understand the reasons why. It might be used breezily to acknowledge an error, or defensively to ward off blame. Rarely, though, do we say sorry and really mean it.

The artist set up the first meetings unsure of where they would lead, arriving to photograph strangers in the darkness of gardens and outhouses, and leaving the results more or less to chance. The neon sculpture clasped in each person’s hands came to symbolise the fragility of human connection, and the moment of mutual trust in which McCourt handed over this delicate, breakable object in return for their image. She was aware that one clumsy gesture could end the project, had the neon slipped out of their grasp and shattered, but that sense of precariousness only made the moment more precious.

I'm Sorry balcony neon

The artist set up the first meetings unsure of where they would lead, arriving to photograph strangers in the darkness of gardens and outhouses, and leaving the results more or less to chance. The neon sculpture clasped in each person’s hands came to symbolise the fragility of human connection, and the moment of mutual trust in which McCourt handed over this delicate, breakable object in return for their image. She was aware that one clumsy gesture could end the project, had the neon slipped out of their grasp and shattered, but that sense of precariousness only made the moment more precious.

Handwritten neon displayed in vitrine.

'The final stop is a small room where the ‘I’m Sorry’ lamp lies in a vitrine, still plugged into its battery pack. Having seen it in so many images, the vision of it up close feels disorientating, like stumbling onto a holy relic. But this room isn’t a shrine – it’s actually a chance to join in the project by picking up a piece of chalk and scrawling your own ‘I’m Sorry’ onto the walls. Again, McCourt was tempted to add a few bells and whistles – ‘You’d walk towards the light, the sound of the sorry would go up into the ether and all this’ – but it felt more honest just to provide the raw materials and let people take it from there.' Orla Foster, Corridor8

The artist set up the first meetings unsure of where they would lead, arriving to photograph strangers in the darkness of gardens and outhouses, and leaving the results more or less to chance. The neon sculpture clasped in each person’s hands came to symbolise the fragility of human connection, and the moment of mutual trust in which McCourt handed over this delicate, breakable object in return for their image. She was aware that one clumsy gesture could end the project, had the neon slipped out of their grasp and shattered, but that sense of precariousness only made the moment more precious.

The artist set up the first meetings unsure of where they would lead, arriving to photograph strangers in the darkness of gardens and outhouses, and leaving the results more or less to chance. The neon sculpture clasped in each person’s hands came to symbolise the fragility of human connection, and the moment of mutual trust in which McCourt handed over this delicate, breakable object in return for their image. She was aware that one clumsy gesture could end the project, had the neon slipped out of their grasp and shattered, but that sense of precariousness only made the moment more precious.

Suffering Arcadia
Annabel McCourt (b.1975)
Scarborough Art Gallery

Neon

Commisioned by Hull 2017, UK City of Culture (2017)

Commissioned by Hull 2017, UK City of Culture (2017)

Photo credit - Rick Walker PA

Originally commissioned as part of 'Electric Fence', 'Happy Hour in the Harmful Factory' & 'Flags' - Solo Show - The Collection/Usher Gallery, Lincoln. February - May (2020)

'REMOTE' project - Recipient of the St Hugh's Foundation for the Arts Main Award (2018)

'REMOTE' project - Recipient of the St Hugh's Foundation for the Arts Main Award (2018)

Commissioned by Hull 2017, UK City of Culture (2017)

'The artist set up the first meetings unsure of where they would lead, arriving to photograph strangers in the darkness of gardens and outhouses, and leaving the results more or less to chance. The neon sculpture clasped in each person’s hands came to symbolise the fragility of human connection, and the moment of mutual trust in which McCourt handed over this delicate, breakable object in return for their image. She was aware that one clumsy gesture could end the project, had the neon slipped out of their grasp and shattered, but that sense of precariousness only made the moment more precious.'
Orla Foster, Corridor8

‘Sorry’ has to be one of the most overworked words in the English language. It can be spoken out of a sense of obligation, a confessional impulse, to soften an email or as a catch-all for guilt, planted into our psyche long before we understand the reasons why. It might be used breezily to acknowledge an error, or defensively to ward off blame. Rarely, though, do we say sorry and really mean it.

The artist set up the first meetings unsure of where they would lead, arriving to photograph strangers in the darkness of gardens and outhouses, and leaving the results more or less to chance. The neon sculpture clasped in each person’s hands came to symbolise the fragility of human connection, and the moment of mutual trust in which McCourt handed over this delicate, breakable object in return for their image. She was aware that one clumsy gesture could end the project, had the neon slipped out of their grasp and shattered, but that sense of precariousness only made the moment more precious.

I'm Sorry balcony neon

The artist set up the first meetings unsure of where they would lead, arriving to photograph strangers in the darkness of gardens and outhouses, and leaving the results more or less to chance. The neon sculpture clasped in each person’s hands came to symbolise the fragility of human connection, and the moment of mutual trust in which McCourt handed over this delicate, breakable object in return for their image. She was aware that one clumsy gesture could end the project, had the neon slipped out of their grasp and shattered, but that sense of precariousness only made the moment more precious.

Handwritten neon displayed in vitrine.

'The final stop is a small room where the ‘I’m Sorry’ lamp lies in a vitrine, still plugged into its battery pack. Having seen it in so many images, the vision of it up close feels disorientating, like stumbling onto a holy relic. But this room isn’t a shrine – it’s actually a chance to join in the project by picking up a piece of chalk and scrawling your own ‘I’m Sorry’ onto the walls. Again, McCourt was tempted to add a few bells and whistles – ‘You’d walk towards the light, the sound of the sorry would go up into the ether and all this’ – but it felt more honest just to provide the raw materials and let people take it from there.' Orla Foster, Corridor8

The artist set up the first meetings unsure of where they would lead, arriving to photograph strangers in the darkness of gardens and outhouses, and leaving the results more or less to chance. The neon sculpture clasped in each person’s hands came to symbolise the fragility of human connection, and the moment of mutual trust in which McCourt handed over this delicate, breakable object in return for their image. She was aware that one clumsy gesture could end the project, had the neon slipped out of their grasp and shattered, but that sense of precariousness only made the moment more precious.

The artist set up the first meetings unsure of where they would lead, arriving to photograph strangers in the darkness of gardens and outhouses, and leaving the results more or less to chance. The neon sculpture clasped in each person’s hands came to symbolise the fragility of human connection, and the moment of mutual trust in which McCourt handed over this delicate, breakable object in return for their image. She was aware that one clumsy gesture could end the project, had the neon slipped out of their grasp and shattered, but that sense of precariousness only made the moment more precious.

Suffering Arcadia
Annabel McCourt (b.1975)
Scarborough Art Gallery

Neon

Commisioned by Hull 2017, UK City of Culture (2017)

Commissioned by Hull 2017, UK City of Culture (2017)

Photo credit - Rick Walker PA

Originally commissioned as part of 'Electric Fence', 'Happy Hour in the Harmful Factory' & 'Flags' - Solo Show - The Collection/Usher Gallery, Lincoln. February - May (2020)

'REMOTE' project - Recipient of the St Hugh's Foundation for the Arts Main Award (2018)

'REMOTE' project - Recipient of the St Hugh's Foundation for the Arts Main Award (2018)

Commissioned by Hull 2017, UK City of Culture (2017)

CONTACT

email: annabelmccourt@mac.com

© 1998 - 2024 Annabel McCourt - all rights reserved

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