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As traditional pubs up and down the country face the threat of extinction, making way for new-builds, restaurants and gastro-pubs, so too do the objects and traditions that come synonymous with the ‘local boozer’. As much a part of drinking culture
This week the unlikely medium of the beer mat is the focus of a new art exhibition which fittingly takes place in The Bun House pub, 96 Peckham High Street. “When I was asked to organise a project at the Bun House, I knew I wanted to do something which integrated artworks with the setting the gallery exists within,” explains curator Cedar Lewisohn. “Most times you go to an art show, you end up in the pub after, this project is slightly cutting out the middle guy.” Placed on tables in the pub alongside regular beer mats are the artworks of Bob and Roberta Smith, Gavin Turk, Sarah Baker and Ben Eine, which Lewisohn hopes will still be used for resting pints on whilst also encouraging a wider audience of viewers to appreciate art, “The thing that excites me most about this project is that the main audience who are going see this are the regulars of a boozer in Peckham. The majority of whom would have never been to a museum or gallery in their lives. They might notice the work, they might not.”
As traditional pubs up and down the country face the threat of extinction, making way for new-builds, restaurants and gastro-pubs, so too do the objects and traditions that come synonymous with the ‘local boozer’. As much a part of drinking culture as salted peanuts and beer itself, the innocuous beer mat may soon be forgotten. Spread out across the tables of Public Houses their use is not to protect the surface of the table, as they are usually made of paper, but to absorb condensation dripping along the glass or as an ad hoc notepad. In 1880 the first beer mats were introduced by the German printing company, Friedrich Horn, and made of cardboard. Now over a century later they are made from high grammage paperboard or several layers of tissue board and frequently adorned with advertising and sometimes political messages and parties. Although beer mats may be insignificant items to some, as Cedar explains, they form the backdrop to “times when I’m happy and I go to the pub for a drink and times when I’m sad and I go to the pub drink. The beer mat is always there. No matter what emotional state I am in.” For tegestologists – whom collect beer mats – the loss of this historical and iconic object will signify the end of a lifelong pastime.
Whilst some viewers will come to their own conclusions about each artist’s interpretation Lewisohn describes Bob and Roberta Smith’s beer mat as “overtly political and unapologetically feminist”, Sarah Baker’s as “darkly sexy and morbid at the same time in reference to David Lynch’s Twin Peaks”, Gavin Turk’s as “deceptively simple but really clever. It depicts a nail as if it’s waiting for something to be hung on it. So the nail becomes kind of frame, that any image can be projected onto. Also because quite a few builders and painters and decorators drink in The Bun, I think they will appreciate the humour of a beer mat with a nail on it.” And lastly he describes Ben Eine’s beer mat as “beautifully literal. Beer. Wine. It’s like, choose your side. Or that Al Murray saying… ‘Something fruit based for the lady…’ It’s a deadpan sort of humour.” Whatever your thoughts, this project is a song of love to drinking culture, the social community of the pub and the artifacts that surround it – full of pathos, heartbreak and joy. “Maybe a relic of another age, but drinking on regardless,” Lewisohn adds.
The Beer Mat Show runs from tomorrow until 28 August and is open during regular pub hours at The Bun House, 96 Peckham High Street, London.
Text by Lucia Davies
