Down the Rabbit Hole

Fairy tale girls, drinks and live music… the flyer for Sara Leroy’s new 3D art gallery opening promises big things, and it delivers.

Nestled in Bond Cottages, a tiny alley off Brighton’s famous North Laines lies a wonky three-storey house that has recently opened its doors to the public as a 3D art gallery—the first, the poster boasts, of its kind. Bustling with eccentrics and creatives from the most colourful corners of the cities laines, the gallery is a miniscule space—every surface covered in Pimms, people or paintings.

Leroy’s work varies from erotic portrayals of femininity to twisted re-imaginings of what happens when the fairy tale ends. Needle-wielding clowns shooting up in derelict cinemas, white rabbits reduced to latex-clad sex objects and princesses selling sex on the side of the road—there’s something to suit everyone’s taste. The carefully curated collections is displayed across several floors and took, I overhear, four years to put together. This isn’t surprising, as there is no doubt as to how many hours Sara must have spent painstakingly combining overlapping layers of teal and crimson to create, when viewed through the 3D glasses found in a fishbowl by the front door, an object leaping through the canvas at you.

In Whoring Ariel, the viewer is invited to interact with the beloved Disney princess in a way that is new, modern and totally uncomfortable. A staple character from my youth, I found it unsettling to see the red-haired mermaid now standing on what I presume are legs, at the border of an urban development lot while a car carrying her “customer” screeches at you through the canvas. Leroy appears to have created an alternate universe for Ariel, one in which she is used, out of favour and unclean. It is a depressing impression of the lows that befall our favourite characters when “happily ever after” goes horribly wrong.

Masectomy, another piece that grabs my attention as soon as I walk in, is a raw, disquieting pictorialisation of the female body. A leather wearing rabbit clawing at its own chest, it is uncomfortable to look at but I struggle to find anything else that holds my gaze quite so intently. It is this awkwardness, this affronting manner that sums up Leroy’s personal style—it is often horrible, sad and just plain weird to look at.

"As an artist," she tells me, "...it’s so hard to be original." However, even in a city as laden with quirky galleries as Brighton, she manages to be just that, and while the dark themes behind the paintings may not be to everyone’s taste, there is no denying that the combination of technical skill and emotional intensity she has creates art that is arresting, melancholy and, at times, purely horrible. It’s well worth checking out.

Leroy’s gallery is open Fri-Sun 10-6 or by appointment and can be found at Bond Cottages, Bond Street, Brighton BN1 1RD.