The subtext of a rainbow: children's art meets Bespoke Art Criticism

ALICE MAYHEW, AGED 5

Recent new work by the artist Alice Mayhew seems to have reignited several ancient arguments about the meaning of life. In her painting The Rainbow, Mayhew's work appears to concede that Plato's objectivity and interpretation of a “good” life is a useful way of striving for a “better” life. In her own words, “I love everyone! I am a good girl!”

But her use of primary colours and confident brush markings mostly lend her work the optimism and zeal of the Pop Art movement, and we quickly realise that Mayhew is not in the least interested in the philosophy of Plato. Her cause is much greater - rather the potential of the world, as seen through the things around her. In her own words: “Everything is magical!”

In this vibrant landscape, each meteorological phenomenon is represented in harmony beside the next. The fluffy clouds drift across the sky. The sun shines uninterrupted next to the clouds, and the rain, although everywhere, does not dampen or dull the scene. Then there is the perfect rainbow, a magical and intermittent by-product of sun and water. Her work suggests that we all ought just to get along, as do the elements of nature. We also note a healthy tree and golden flowers.

So what are we to make of this ideal landscape of love? Certainly, a perfect vision of the world is a healthy target to aim for. Again, see Plato. But, after careful consideration, the viewer may note a number of subtle irregularities, tiny shifts in the way we have been taught to understand and read the world. A rainbow with pink stripes? A rainbow with a spookily eerie white void under its arc? Where is the land beyond the rainbow? Where is Oz? Thus Mayhew's work is not about a perfect vision of the world, but concerned with our dreams; how they manifest over our personal vision of the world, and help us to form our individual Utopias.

Mayhew, with a keen eye for scientific detail, thinks rainbows should have more pink. This may well have a lot to do with her love of ballet. But really it's the subtext of her use of pink in the rainbow that we should be considering: if there were indeed pink to be observed in rainbows, that would necessitate a lower light frequency in the atmosphere to register it, therefore smaller temperature variations and thus less global warming.

The Rainbow suggests that, to keep our collective dreams vital and in good working order, we must be aware that we need to lessen greenhouse gases and foster our dreams without losing sight of reality. And try to use the colour pink as much as possible.

HOPE UNIVER, AGED 4

Evocative of the mythologically derived works of Picasso's Vollard Suite (generally regarded as a high point of modern drawing and printmaking), the work Cinderella and Her Ugly Sisters by Hope Univer teaches us that the young are more morally balanced and passionate then we credit them.

Here, Univer re-creates the most horrific moment in the Cinderella story. In Picasso's Minotaur, he compares himself and his creativity to the “untamable beast”. Almost as wicked is the cruelty doled out by the nasty stepsisters in Cinderella. In Univer's version we see them preparing to sweep away to the Prince's ball in their fabulous gowns, leaving Cinderella to cry alone in her desolation. Rare is the artist who can portray so well and economically as Univer the pure evil that can live in the hearts of those in search of riches, such as the sisters. Or the heartbreak on the face of Cinderella at the prospect, not only of being left behind, but being taunted.

But Univer again references Picasso in the way that she treats Cinderella's tormentors - with subtle irony. She has upgraded their outfits from the kind of cheap polyester tat that one finds at Primark at Hallowe'en to split-piece overdresses, evocative of Comme des Garçons. This modern, ironic interpretation of misery (after all, the dresses would retail for thousands today) is a reference to our bloated, consumer-based society that favours well-dressed simpletons over the pure of heart.

The wilting baguette on Cinderella's head is an allusion to the wigs of 17th-century France, the so-called periwig or perruque allongée, and that the poorly compensated workers who made them often survived for years on bread alone, as Cinderella would have done had she not had the help of the Fairly Godmother.

The reference is also a nod to Princess Leia's hairstyle in Star Wars, another tortured woman with bread on her head (in this case a bagel on each side) and a poignant reminder of the popularity within the movie industry of women with bread for brains.

The artist's clean and sparse use of markings in her work alludes to the fact that, like Picasso, she understands what is minimally required to make her point. For example, in a recent conversation between the artist and her mother, we have the following exchange.

Mum: “Carrots help you to see in the dark.”

Hope: “Mum, they don't. Torches do.”

So here we observe a child concerned with truth, but also with science and, getting back to her choice of subject, freedom.

Unlike Cinderella (who was, if we are honest, just a very fortunate girl, right place at the right time etc), Univer is saying with this work: let the good people have some fun, ignore those with monstrous personas, and, for God's sake, bring down the price of couture.

An intelligent and insightful work, Cinderella and Her Ugly Sisters holds up to the light our societal values and necessitates the questioning of what is right and wrong.

WILLIAM VILE, AGED 10

The daring colour and dramatic composition that characterise this work are evocative of Paul Gauguin's earlier works, but where Gauguin was interested in other artistic styles, William Vile, an artist working in Somerset, was obviously interested in dinosaurs when he made this work at the age of 7. In particular, one triceratops dinosaur named Dino.

In Lady in the Sun, we see a woman deep in thought, contemplating her splendid life in the sun. The use of primary colour around the eyes seems arbitrary - perhaps that was all they had on offer that day? But that is unlikely. Vile uses those colours to infuse the image with a spiritual resonance of a visionary kind. But the spirituality of this picture is not a sign of his faith in organised religion. That the artist has chosen not to depict the sun suggests that he is sceptical of the existence of an all-powerful God.

So what does Vile believe in? He is famous for his fascination with fossils and dinosaurs, and like Salvador Dalí and his ever-present moustache, he is seldom seen without Dino, the small brown stuffed triceratops that he finds far more comforting than the presence of an imaginary being.

There is further evidence in Vile's belief in science over religion in Lady in the Sun. The blue diagonal markings in the picture are presented in exactly the same Pantone colour as Doctor Who's Tardis (of which, incidentally, the artist has a vast album of collector's cards). Thus the artist's interest in Doctor Who is further evidence of his interest in time, and the likelihood that there is quite a lot of it. If the world were only 5,600 years old, the artist seems to say, Doctor Who would not have much use for a time machine. And also, if the world were only 5,600 years old, as evangelists would have us believe, why are there fossils of dinosaurs everywhere, hmmm?

What of the grizzly orange colouring to the left of the blue markings? It is merely a sign that the artist was getting hungry and had a craving for one of his favourite foods, pork scratchings, said also to have been a favourite of Gauguin.

Lady in the Sun, therefore, is concerned with Darwinian evolution and the individual's place in the space-time continuum. The woman is thinking with her eyes closed. Knowledge of Vile's other interests means we must interpret this as a sign that the artist values science and reading over fantasy. A work of warmth and generosity, its only flaw is the insinuation that pork scratchings are high-quality.

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