Through his playful use of materials, Johnson’s work creates a theatrical tension between ‘stuff’ and its implied function: clock faces stand in for people faces, bandages become noblesse armour, and steel rods protrude painfully as arms and legs; his battered crafty aesthetic giving all the appearance of the walking wounded. Sentinel (Please Hold) sculpts a cruel picture of ineffectuality and obsolescence. Comically rendered with the tell-tale ravages of age, Johnson’s veteran teeters on peg-leg and gout foot, his guts blown out, and arm replaced by a fishing rod-like prosthetic. Relegated to desk duty, even answering the phone becomes a mission impossible, his body covered by hundreds of unanswered messages.

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