The early 90s saw Britain undergo one of the most devastating recessions in generations; suffering the consequences of Black Wednesday and utterly defeated, the nation was gripped by a sense of uncertainty and fear for the future. Enter Gillian Wearing - a conceptual artist heavily associated with the burgeoning scene of young British artists, who grasped the cultural significance of the economic crisis of the 90s and captured it in her landmark series of photographs, ‘Signs That Say What You Want Them to Say And Not What Someone Else Wants You to Say’.
In perhaps one of the most iconic images of the early half of the decade, Wearing photographed a London businessman holding a sign that read “I’m desperate”. A simple yet apt statement that encapsulated the mood that had taken hold of the UK - one which had even the wealthy employees of the square mile in the grips of despair. Wearing approached passers-by, asking them to write down their current thoughts on signs and then photographing them together - a process which was met with varying degrees of success amongst the British Public. When reflecting on the work, she recalls this very process and her interaction with the subject of “I’m desperate.”, whose confession - once captured on camera - seemed to shock himself just as much as it did Wearing with its matter-of-fact honesty. Thrusting the sign back at Wearing in seeming frustration, in equal parts at himself as at the artist, he disappeared, having created one of the most strikingly honest depictions of the nationwide sense of hopelessness.
‘Signs…’ was not entirely despairing in its sentiments, with some of the more uplifting works capturing scenes such as two beaming women and a sign reading “Best Friends for life! Long live the two of us!”, as well as a call from a couple to “work towards world peace”.
However, the series did tap into the underlying sense of aimlessness felt by a nation at an economic and social stand-still. The complete sense of anonymity enabled strangers to make vulnerable confessions, such as “My grip on life is rather loose!” as well as “I want to care about people, not my job” and the unsettling cry for “Help” from a police officer. It was this sense of complete honesty and vulnerability that characterised the brilliance of Wearing’s work, as it shattered the widely held perception of the British Public as reserved and closed off; instead, presenting unguarded insights into the public stream of conscience that was unified by the economic and social hardship of the early 90s - most clearly reflected, perhaps, in the image of this man, representative of a nation asking “will Britain get through this recession?”
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