01/09/2026
Jeff Finnie ) fills the .ltd window 3/09/26 (visible day & night in Theatre Square, Swindon) with layered mixed-media works built from music, memory and whatever arrives on the canvas.
Born in Rotherham, now based in Swindon, he treats making as both survival and story: a way to stay present through pain and restriction, and a way to let songs, videos and pop icons - Madonna’s endless reinventions especially - collide with stencils, collage, spray and found fragments until the piece starts talking back. Nothing is planned in advance; backgrounds are thrown down, images and lyrics appear, arrows, faces and sheet music accumulate, and each chaotic surface becomes a small autobiography of sound.
One canvas in the window is built around fame, image and looking back. Over a scratched, filmic portrait sit the lines “I’m in heaven”, “Look up here!!” and “Everybody knows me now”, framed by a strip of cinema sprockets. The words belong to Bowie’s Lazarus, but Finnie has pulled them into a Madonna-shaped story of constant self-reinvention - the mistress of style changes, the public face that keeps being remade. Purple overlays, geometric scratches and a halved, watching gaze give the piece the feel of a video still that has been lived in rather than simply printed.
Another work turns the body into a score. A dress-form torso in the studio is wrapped in torn pages of sheet music, stained pink and tightly collaged so that notation follows the ribs and shoulders. Music is not only the subject here; it is the skin. Around it sit the tools of the process - paints, stencils, bottles - the same messy, additive method Finnie describes throw something down, wait, add, and let the piece grow until it is alive.
A third surface is cooler and more diagrammatic: overlapping profile silhouettes, arrows firing in opposite directions, swirl fields and mechanical or circuit-like drawings in cyan and deep blue. Minds or identities seem to pass through one another inside a system that is part blueprint, part weather. The stencil grain and the opposing arrows keep the image restless, as if the work itself is still deciding which way to move.