We, DATEAGLE ART (with ‘we’, ‘our’ or ‘us’ being interpreted accordingly) are committed to protecting your privacy and personal information. We operate our website (the “Site“). This policy applies to information held about all persons about whom DATEAGLE ART holds information.  By ‘information,’ we mean personal information about you that we collect, use, share and store.


This Privacy Policy statement explains our data processing practices. By using our website or by providing any personal information to DATEAGLE ART, you consent to the collection and use of your personal information as set out in this statement. This Privacy Policy also provides information on your legal rights in relation to your Personal Data.


Last Updated 9th June 2019





We collect and process your Personal Data in accordance with applicable laws that regulate data protection and privacy. This includes, without limitation, the EU General Data Protection Regulation (2016/679) (‘GDPR’) and the UK Data Protection Act 2018 (‘DPA’) together with other applicable UK and EU laws that regulate the collection, processing and privacy of your Personal Data (together, ‘Data Protection Law’).





3.1 We may collect and store the following types of information about you when you use the Site or by corresponding with us (for example, by e-mail). This includes information you provide when registering to use the Site or sharing any data via our social media functions. The Personal Data about you that we collect and use includes the following:


(a) Your name;

(b) Your contact information such as your address, email address, telephone number, billing address and delivery address (if applicable);

(c) If applicable, your payment details/ financial data;

(d) Information from accounts you link to us (e.g. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram);

(e) Information in relation to your purchase of our products in our shop or use of our services;

(f) Information about your personal preferences;

(g) Information related to your attendance of, and interest in, DATEAGLE ART’S exhibitions, events, artists, artworks, and services.


3.2 Please note that if you do not provide Personal Data when we ask for it, it may delay or prevent us from providing products or services to you.





4.1 We collect most of this Personal Data directly from you – in person, by email, telephone, post, through our social media, and via our website e.g. when you contact us with a query, make a purchase of any of our products or services, or ask that you are added to our mailing list. However we may also collect Personal Data from from articles or other information that has been published about you in the media.





5.1 Please ensure that any Personal Data you supply to us which relates to third party individuals is provided to us with their knowledge of our proposed use of their Personal Data.





6.1 Under Data Protection Law, we can only use your Personal Data if we have a proper reason for doing so e.g.:


(a) To comply with our legal and regulatory obligations;

(b) For the performance of a contract between us or to take steps at your request before entering into a contract;

(c) For our legitimate interests or those of a third party (where we have a business or commercial reason to use your Personal Data, so long as this is not overridden by your own rights and interests, including ensuring the successful continuing our business operations, updating our client and contact records, improving our offerings, marketing our offerings and preventing fraud);

(d) Where you have given consent.


6.2 If we process sensitive data as referred to above we will only do this with your explicit consent; or, to protect your vital interests (or those of someone else) in an emergency; or, where you have already publicised such information; or, where we need to use such sensitive data in connection with a legal claim that we have or may be subject to.


6.3 We may use your Personal Data for one or more of the following purposes:


(a) To fulfil requests, including providing products or services to you;

(b) Maintaining business operations, including updating client and visitor records, identifying areas for operational improvement, such as improving efficiency, training and quality control, getting to know you and your preferences in order to provide you with a more tailored service;

(c) Marketing, including adding you to our mailing list and providing you with direct marketing communications about what we are doing as well as products, services and/or events which may be of interest to you by post or phone. If required under applicable law, where we contact you by SMS, email, fax, social media and/or any other electronic communication channels for direct marketing purposes, this will be subject to you providing your express consent. You can object or withdraw your consent to receiving direct marketing from us at any time, by contacting us at;

(d) To enforce and/or defend any of our legal claims or rights;

(e) For any other purpose required by applicable law, regulation, the order of any court or regulatory authority.





7.1 Except as expressly set out in this policy we will not sell, distribute or lease your personal information to third parties unless we have your permission or are required by law to do so. We will only share your Personal Data as set out in this section 7, including sharing with:


(a) Third parties we use to help deliver our products and services to you, e.g. payment service providers and delivery and shipping companies;

(c) Other third parties we use to help us run our business;

(d) Third parties approved by you, e.g. social media accounts you choose to link your account with us to.


7.2 We only allow our service providers to handle your Personal Data if we are satisfied they take appropriate measures to protect your Personal Data. We also impose contractual obligations on service providers to ensure they can only use your Personal Data to provide services to us and to you.


7.3 We may also share personal information with external auditors in relation to the audit of our accounts, and we may disclose and exchange information with law enforcement agencies and regulatory bodies without telling you to comply with our legal and regulatory obligations if we are required by law to do so.


7.4 We may also need to share some Personal Data with other parties, such as potential buyers of some or all of our business or during a re-structuring. Usually, information will be anonymised but this may not always be possible. The recipient of the information will be bound by confidentiality obligations.


7.5 We may also need to share some Personal Data with other business entities – should we plan to merge with or be acquired by that business entity, or if we undergo a re-organisation with that entity.





8.1 A cookie is a text file that downloads small bits of information to your device.  Our website doesn’t uses cookies, however our Site may contain links to other websites who do, including via our social media buttons.


8.2 Our website may contain links to other websites of interests. While we try to link only to website that share our respect for privacy, we are not responsible for the content, security, or privacy practices employed by other websites, and a link does not constitute an endorsement of that website. Once you link to another website from our Site, you are subject to the terms and conditions of that website, including, but not limited to, its Internet privacy policy and practices. Please check these policies before you submit any data to these websites.





9.1 DATEAGLE ART only retains Personal Data identifying you for as long as you have a relationship with us, as is necessary to perform our obligations to you (or to enforce or defend contract claims), or as is required by applicable law. This will involve us periodically reviewing our files to check that information is accurate, up-to-date and still required.


9.2 Personal Data we no longer need is securely disposed of and/or anonymised so you can no longer be identified from it.





10.1 We endeavour to take all reasonable steps to protect Personal Data from external threats such as malicious software or hacking. However, please be aware that there are always inherent risks in sending information by public networks or using public computers and we cannot 100% guarantee the security of all data sent to us (including Personal Data).





11.1 In accordance with your legal rights under applicable law, you have a ‘subject access request’ right under which you can request information about the Personal Data that we hold about you, what we use that Personal Data for and who it may be disclosed to as well as certain other information. Usually, we will have a month to respond to such a subject access request.


11.2 Under Data Protection Law you also have the following rights, which are exercisable by making a request to us in writing:


(a) To request access to or a copy of any Personal Data which we hold about you;

(b) That we rectify Personal Data that we hold about you which is inaccurate or incomplete;

(c) That we erase your Personal Data without undue delay if we no longer need to hold or process it;

(d) To object to any automated processing that we carry out in relation to your Personal Data;

(e) To object to our use of your Personal Data for direct marketing;

(f) To object and/or to restrict the use of your Personal Data for purpose other than those set out above unless we have a legitimate reason for continuing to use it;

(g) That we transfer Personal Data to another party where the Personal Data has been collected with your consent or is being used to perform contact with you and is being carried out by automated means.


11.3 Any request from you for access to or a copy of your Personal Data must be in writing, and we will endeavour to respond within a reasonable period and in any event within one month in compliance with data protection legislation. We will comply with our legal obligations as regards your rights as a data subject. If you would like to exercise any of the rights set out above, please contact us at the address below.





We operate in accordance with current UK and EU data protection legislation. If you have any concerns about our use of your information, you also have the right (as a UK resident) to make a complaint to the Information Commissioner’s Office (ICO), which regulates and supervises the use of personal data in the UK, via their helpline on 0303 123 1113 – see





13.1 Our Privacy Policy may be subject to change at any time. Any changes we make to our policy in the future will be posted on this page and, where appropriate, notified to you by e-mail. Please check back frequently to see any updates or changes to our policy.





If you have any requests regarding this Privacy Policy or wish to make a further request relating to how we use your Personal Data as described above, please contact our Data Protection Manager by e-mail at

When material meets concept: British artist Arthur Laidlaw examines the interrelation of ‘subject’ and ‘matter’.

It’s been eight months since I first met artist Arthur Laidlaw at East of Elsewhere in Berlin, who at the time, showed me around one of his most ambitious works to date: a site-specific cardboard installation on the limits between art and architecture, that dominated the entire living room of the domestic space. This work explored a first-hand criticism towards the undervalued status of Berlin’s Spätkauf, a convenience store open throughout the night which the artist describes as “an essential part of the fabric of the city, but dwarfed by the architectural landmarks of historical significance in Berlin”. He therefore remarked this statement through the use of an undervalued and under-appreciated artistic medium such as cardboard, which is often proved as being too ephemeral to work with. What sets Athur’s practice in distinction is how interrelated his materials are with the subjects he explores. Last year, he participated in ‘Where Are We Now?’, a solo exhibition at Vadaxoglou, London, in which he inspected the Grenfell Tower fire tragedy through the employment of charcoal works, an appropriate use of material, considering it is composed by ash residue. It is no surprise that with his choice of mediums, the artist directs the viewers into the content of the work. This week, I find myself in Laidlaw’s South Bermondsey based studio, prior to his permanent move to Berlin, a city which is embedded by it’s own history through it’s the architecture, and a place that has allowed the artist to engage further with today’s European political climate. Here, we discuss how he will continue to trace the roots of classical civilisation through his works, why ignorance has driven him into curiosity and the ways in which his layered works merge both distorted memories and history.


You graduated from a History of Art BA at Oxford University and then transitioned to Fine Art with an MA at City & Guilds. How has your art history background fed into your artistic practice and vice-versa?

To begin with, I found my History of Art degree a little paralysing; as I started work as a practicing artist, I second-guessed myself regularly, jumping ahead to the consequences and ramifications of my material and conceptual choices. The further I get from it, however, the more helpful it becomes. Perhaps the most helpful thing was that it emphasised was how little I knew about art and its history, and how important ignorance can be. When you’re honest about your own lack of knowledge or understanding of a subject, ignorance can drive curiosity. This curiosity is the basis for asking a question again and again, from different perspectives, each time reaching a fractionally different result. From a compositional, curatorial point of view, my History of Art degree also taught me how to structure an argument. This has become invaluable both in the individual setting out of an image, and also the planning of an exhibition.

Your mum is a former graphic-designer, now practicing painter. Do you both dialogue and support each other’s work?

We try to – she is my most honest and fair critic. That criticism can be hard to receive occasionally, but it’s almost always well founded. She is also my biggest artistic support, and I try to return that support whenever I can – though it’s hard to imagine how I’ll be able to repay her for everything she’s helped with over the years.

Do you think that your formal training as an artist enables you a certain level of confidence in your work? How important is this confidence to delve into the ‘art world’ and its challenges?

Strangely, it’s the degree in art history that helps me most here. I think the knowledge of your own fallibility gives you confidence. It’s a constant reminder not to be too ambitious each day, and instead simply try to be true to your own life experience – and hopefully the quality of the work will follow.


Is narrative a big part of what you do?


Yes, narrative is an essential part of my practice. I believe in artwork as a kind of communicative tool to express an event or idea, or even an entire Weltanschauung. That is not to say there must be a fixed beginning, middle, or end – the structure and form of my work and exhibitions is looser than that – but there must be somewhere for the viewer to begin to relate the image to themselves, and their own life experiences. This relationship, between the perspective from which an artwork is produced and the viewer’s own, is valuable as a tool for teaching and practicing empathy. It forces a confrontation and resolution of different opinions in a world of increasing division and encouraged partisanship.

Documenting Syria through analogue photography was a starting point for you to deal with this medium. Can you go through your process of reworking these photographs, and how your re-contextualisation of the medium paralleled with your distorted view of the country?

As I moved further away from my original journey around the Mediterranean and the Middle East, in 2009, it became harder to reconcile my experiences with the news from Syria and many of the surrounding countries. The 4000 or so photographs I took were taken as ‘honest’ representations of the objects I saw and the places I visited, but they assumed new, unintended meaning over the next seven years. I believe that some of the universally-felt sense of loss, in reaction to the destruction of Syria’s ancient monuments, can be traced to the classical language of architecture, which many ‘Western’ countries have adopted for imperial ambitions. Almost every street you walk down in London is likely to have a classical moulding across its facade, a mock-pediment over its windows, or a faux-portico surrounding its doorway. The aesthetic of classicism has, consciously or not, become the (stolen) aesthetic of much of the ‘Western’ world—and therefore the destruction of its origins feels somehow personal.

In what ways do you reinterpret your own memories of a place through a layered work production?

I slowly developed a method for working onto the surface of the image, which involved obscuring the photograph, and layering different processes onto the picture-plane, until it became difficult to tell where the actual object ends and the distorted memory begins. In my 2016 exhibition at the Oxo Tower, ‘Razed: Syrian Ruins’, I showed five photographs ‘simply’ as photos. The twenty remaining works began as photographs, and were then masked by tape, obscured by painting, and eventually drawn onto using a mono-printing process. This process involves drawing from memory onto a black plastic sheet covering the photograph; the pencil pushes black lines of etching ink on the back of the sheet onto the surface of the already distorted image. The layers reference the decay and destruction of the subject, but refer also to our own ever-evolving, prejudicial memories. The work examines this gap, between a lived experience of a place, and a fragile, fading memory that gets pushed around by the narratives of politicians, newspapers, and countless other self-interested forces.

You recently responded to the one-year anniversary of the Grenfell tower incident through a series of charcoal drawings of UK’s council estates. Can you explain us this project further? Did your choice of material resonate with the concept of the project?

This project is an ongoing one, aiming simply to look at the dozens of tower blocks in London that sit in the long shadow of Grenfell. The landscapes in which these buildings sit are rendered primarily in charcoal and pencil, in the hope that the simplicity of the medium may continue to direct the viewer towards the subject itself. The drawings began in London, with some of the most recognisable and threatened structures, and expanded to include towers throughout the UK. The Grenfell Tower fire was the deadliest residential fire in the UK since the Second World War; it must be understood as a warning, to prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again.

You seem to be interested in giving the audience an opportunity to access your ideas, being this through monoprints, linocuts, etchings, maquettes, graphic illustrations, videos, or site-responsive installations. In what ways do you adapt and fit your materials, tone, and aesthetic to the ideas of your work?

The idea usually comes first, or the obsession with a particular question. The communication of that idea comes next, and this is what drives the visual, physical element of my practice. For example, the Razed project was an attempt to subvert our assumed understanding of the photographic medium through layers of painting and printmaking. The Fassaden project used distorted images of the sketchbook – scanned, blown up, and painted onto – as a way of referencing both Hannah Arendt’s “banality of evil” and the endless Stasi surveillance records, subjects both in the foreground and background of these works. The Spätkauf project made use of cardboard – an overlooked medium in the canon of art history – as a way of reexamining the Spätkauf itself, a historically undervalued but societally essential building in post-war Berlin. As mentioned above, the Grenfell Tower project was a simple series of observational drawings made in situ, in a material whose connotations could not have been clearer.

“I’m just a product of my generation” was a highlight you mentioned in our recent conversation. Can you explain us this quote further?

I believe this may have been in reference to my technical and material curiosities as an artist working today. Many people of my age (I was born 1990) are somewhat trapped between a pre-internet age – characterised by an intense nostalgia – and a feeling of deep cynicism related to what has happened in the years since. Of course, each generation experiences their own chronologically specific loss of innocence, but I think that feeling has been unprecedentedly heightened by the paradigmatic shift in communicating with one and other that the internet set in motion. As such, I am obsessed by the convergence (and the frequent dissonance) of old and new technologies. For example, the process of mono-printing – a technique hundreds of years old – onto a photo-lithographic print (a process which is itself a conflation of old and new printmaking techniques) echoes the subject of my work: our relationship with the past through its remnant man-made structures.

During six months, you were unable to walk given a strong injury in your knees. In what ways did your physical limitations at the time reflect onto your work?

Only one knee – it wasn’t that serious. But yes, professionally, it brought me to a pretty immediate halt. I was moving studios, which didn’t help, and the whole thing highlighted how important physicality is to my work (and the work of most visual artists). It led to some of my smallest work – a group of lino cuts relating to the borderlands between India and Nepal, based on photographs I took the year before. Eventually, it also led to my largest work: a life size shop made out of cardboard boxes, collected from the same shops my sculpture depicted. Looking back, the desire to do something on this scale was at least in part driven by my desire to make something physically demanding, now that I was able to do so again.

I visited your Cardboard Späti work at East of Elsewhere, during the Gallery Weekend in Berlin. This piece struck me due to its temporal yet monumental qualities, along with its subject: an everyday shop. What interests you about this subject in particular?

First, it might be helpful for me to describe a Spätkauf. It is a kind of newsagent, off- license, and community hub, specific to Berlin. These small shops originated in the GDR to provide food and drink to workers after late-night shifts, and they continue to be largely operated by the Turkish or Vietnamese populations in Berlin, each of whom occupied the majority of Berlin’s manufacturing jobs throughout the second half of the 20th century. The material evolved out of a series of drawings and photographs made, with the Spätkauf as their subject. I began to work on several small cardboard maquettes of the same buildings, made using only the sketches as references. Cardboard allowed a flexibility and immediacy that I enjoyed, but my primary reason for choosing cardboard was that the material itself could be sourced from the very buildings it was then used to represent. Cardboard is undervalued and under-appreciated as an artistic medium; its ephemerality makes it unsuitable for long lasting sculpture. This echoed the undervalued status of Berlin’s Spätkauf: an essential part of the fabric of the city, but dwarfed by the architectural landmarks of ‘historical significance’ in Berlin. However, just as remains of St Thomas Kirche are a way of accessing the events of the Second World War, the Spätkauf has its own history, specific to the turbulent demographic shifts of Berlin’s history.

What leads you to examine buildings with such urgency?

In the case of the Spätkauf, global consumerist attitudes may make the lifetime of such a business a short one. Other western cultures have pushed independently owned and operated shops to the margins, with the rise of the shopping mall in America, or large supermarket chains in the UK. In the case of my subjects more generally, I think that urgency is informed by my trip to Syria and its surrounding countries in 2009. My aim was to trace the roots of classical civilisation, through drawing and photographing its extant architectural forms. Many of those structures, which I had assumed would survive another two thousand years at least, no longer exist, or are unrecognisable today. This complacency – a kind of arrogance born out of historical egocentrism – is something I do not wish to repeat. It has led indirectly to my examination of each new subject with urgency, in the knowledge that it may dissolve and be lost to history tomorrow.

In my recent studio visit, we spoke about photography and its associations of being an ‘honest’ and ‘truthful’ medium. How do you play with these notions?

Razed was an attempt at undoing the perceived solidity and factual nature of photographs. Photographs (especially our own) help us to build concrete histories of ourselves; they help to create our own narratives, even when our actions are in the distant past.

Aside of your artistic practice, you are also involved with East of Elsewhere. How does this affect your work? Do you think about the overall/wider picture more when making your work, instead of the individual pieces?

Curation is closely linked with my practice; when working on a new project, I am as concerned with how it will be presented and exhibited as I am with the internal workings of the composition. East of Elsewhere has changed my understanding of how different artists work, and the roll of a project space or gallery; it demonstrated to me how a group of people – with different perspectives and expertise – can help bring a project to life. This sometimes meant breathing new enthusiasm into a project, or pushing things gently in a new direction, but always underlined the importance of the people involved. It also changed the way I understood the reception and engagement of work; we inhabited 24/7, and organised a programme of different events, which prompted a huge range of reactions and responses from viewers. It highlighted the need for curatorial reframing as a tool, helping people to access underlying ideas in the work on display.


I caught up with you in a transitional state in your career, given you were getting ready to move permanently to Berlin. Why is it the time now for you to start work and life in Berlin? What will be your entry point of work there?

I left London for Berlin in an attempt to better understand Europe’s political climate. History is etched into the buildings of Berlin; examining them, it is impossible not to engage with the status of Europe today.

You mainly work in monochromatic tonalities. What will be the role of colour in your upcoming works?

I am working on the gradual reintroduction of colour in my new work. In many ways, it serves the same, layered function as other stages of the production process. However, by working in a variant three-colour monoprinting, tertiary colours emerge, and there is an introduction not only of chromatic change, but serendipity.

Your work enables conversations around politics, architecture, economy, social structures, amongst others… How do you plan to move these discussions forward through your practice?

The dialogue between each of these themes is important to me, yes. Trying to develop the relationship between a specific historical moment and our current economic or social positions has led my work and my practice in several different directions. Currently, I am working with an old German Super 8 camera, but breaking down each video frame by frame to scan, print, and work onto later in the studio. It is a way of composing using a time-based, fluid medium, but editing in a very deliberate, conservative fashion. The subject of this work is an ongoing project relating to the rise of radical nationalism in Europe over the past few years. I am also working collaboratively on a number of projects; it is a way to shift not only the material, but the conceptual basis for the work, and your starting point. My exhibition At World’s End, with Nick Scammell, has just opened in Peckham on the 27th of February, and explores our shared despair for London through the lens of the capital as a literary city.


Words by Vanessa Murrell


Arthur Laidlaw

Alice Irwin

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