Upritchard’s haunting sculptures of humans appear as hippies or robed revellers, with faces and bodies, painted carnival colours. Outfits befitting a druid, a worshipper, a dandy, a festival goer or harlequin. Skin is chequered or striped, matching their attire or the geometric inlay of the furniture. Fez’s, loose cotton trousers, onesies, draping blankets and open shirts adorn her figures. Sometimes these characters are penis-erect, pleading for affection or masturbating solo. They Loom, pray, arms flailing to rave music or hand marshalling to an imaginary jet plane. Thai chi experts lunge and yogis perform ancient positions in front of a giant antique mirror.

 

Strange and perverse, prehistoric creatures lounge incongruously or pose uncannily on beautifully crafted geometric plinths and structures. An ape-like creature with blue face sits in a luxurious velvet sofa, lit by a cluster of luminous and exposed oversized light bulbs. Thumbelina sized humans shimmy atop of a handmade bureau.  Elongated sloth-like creatures unfurl, released from some sort of torturous stretching rack. Its hands are human-like and yet not quite sloth enough. 

 

On occasion, Upritchard's work encourages you to feel like you are entering into a dusty museum like Pitt Rivers or The Horniman, where car boot finds of retro vases are reappropriated. The necks of these vessels give birth to shrunken animal heads. She tampers with history and plays on our ability to imagine and believe in her fiction. There is undoubtedly an ensuing ritual, dance or happening taking place.  more Upritchard here

​