A brief analysis of 'The Limes' by Clio Lloyd-Jacob.
‘The limes’, is much like other work by Clio Lloyd-Jacob, in that an apparently domestic scene unravels and is transcended the more it is viewed and contemplated. At first glance, we see a workshop in confident disarray. Pieces of wood lean in the corner, several miscellaneous objects are hung or shelved, including a winter coat, which furthers the aesthetic of a comfortable setting. But as time goes on a viewer may come to notice the visible innards of the piano, and how this is echoed by the hung up tools that resemble a rib cage. What is made here? Is she the only creator?
We are greeted into the space with muted but familiar colours, the earthy and man made hues of everyday life. The limited use of colour allows us to view the piece as a whole, yet we are still drawn to the red of the piano and the window, which glows an ambient yellow light. Each area of the composition is stylistically and carefully rendered using tonal range and visible brush strokes, for example the seat of the grey chair.
The lone subject remains anonymous to us, we see only the back of her head. Are we really invited to see her? We cannot see her eyes - are they on the piano or the window? Or are they glazed over in thought? The blue of her jumper and the matching blue of the hanging coat suggests that it belongs to her, so we can speculate that she is alone. Yet we are not rewarded with many more answers, there remains a secrecy in the domesticity; an intimacy only truly known by the artist and her work. The piece could be seen as about our private thoughts and the relations between us and our surroundings.