The phallic nature of the dripping wet asparagus in Vegan allows for a smooth transition to the three-tiered Divorce Cake, where Epp, working from memories of his own relationship split, portrays a marriage in its death throes via a tongue-in-cheek chocolate delight. There are certain visual connotations within this piece that suggest a reference to Baumbach’s Oscar-tipped Marriage Story, which represents the divorce as an equalizer that turns all of those involved into versions of themselves they didn’t expect to become.
The vigorous brown shitty smears on the wall offer an explosive portrayal of slapstick anger and despair. Caught in the storm of a laugh-out-loud, cry-out-loud separation, the baker (whose behaviour indicates that she could well be the prospective ex-wife) sneaks into the kitchen, only to be caught gloriously devouring her own creation. If anything, this pursuance of instant pleasure rather highlights the complex emotional warfare between the couple and offers a compassionate depiction of human fallibility.
This sense of humour and absurdity is further highlighted in Evol Love, where two intertwined Venus flytraps are crazily giggling each other. A spotted cucumber beetle, also known to transmit viruses to plants, is crawling up one of the interlaced stems. The perspective gets close, and we see them extend their tongues towards one another in ways that words fail to describe. Following the outline of the harmonically entwined stems, a heart silhouette starts to reveal itself. Epp puns on the word ‘Evol’, which is ‘love’ spelled backwards, to highlight on the bittersweet challenges of this entangled romance: the plant's common name alludes to Venus, the Roman goddess of love, yet these bulb-like beings fail to share intimate affection as their mechanism is programmed to instantly confine and consume any insect that falls between them.

Entering the main room in the Savile Row exhibition space, the wooden panelled gives the feel of an Edwardian billiards room. Paddle captures an elusive portrait of a supervillain art collector prestige – one with bad eyes but good ears– The works by Hirst, Hockney and Hollen are framed along as props in the play of conspicuous consumption. (Oli captures them at the height of their exuberance, and in this case, they become the embodiment of the wealth within the more commercial industry.) The figure in the painting has a likeness to the villains in Austin Powers. Depicting the idea of Dr Evil, holding an emotionless cat (the accessory of choice for evil masterminds), the eye patch of his counterpart Number 2; and a comment and obvious disgruntlement of being second-best to the ‘market’ and the politics of art.
A mild and almost naive reference to the supervillain, this Austin Powers comparison gives some comical relief to the situation; almost as though Oli is taking the piss out of himself and his battle with exploitation, revealing his opinions on the struggle of art over commerce and the relationship between artist and collector. Capitalism is great at making people crave things they don’t need, and of course, this is what we should expect from a system that runs on the basis of production and consumption. Paddle is a personal representation on the currency-focused, money-driven intentions of the elite players in the market, where the strategic art collector is blindly bidding for trends, destined to live in a consumerist dystopia.
The work highlights the dangers associated with pieces being sold for profits, indicating that artists can become brands, more likely to give only what is expected. Raising inquisitions about whether money is a catalyst for great art vs art being a catalyst for money in a culture driven by consumerism. Informed by the soundtrack of Who Framed Roger Rabbit, titled Why Don’t You Do It Right Anyways, and with lyrics pointing out to ‘get me some money too’ further alludes to the idea of irresponsibilities with money.

Green mould permeates the oyster as ants and flies traipse the strawberries and the redolently placed cherry has become nothing more than the breeding ground of a sweet seeking worm. Oli has taken each seductive element and made them unpleasurable, unwanted and insipid. With Why Don’t You Do It Right from Who Framed Roger Rabbit still playing on repeat during its creation, the character resembles the hyper-sexualised cartoon, Jessica Rabbit. Bloated, swollen and rougher than her predecessor, she exaggerates the notion of unsatisfactory delights and the non-erotic. Despite this, Oli’s figure is still a sultry femme fatale with the ability to chastise her male counterparts. With rumours slowed frames (from the film) reveal a nude Jessica, the concept of sexualisation of a non-human is emphasised and paths the way for the fetishism of the un-gendered; linking to the forms Oli presents.
The sexual objectification persists with the almost excessive use of shine on the lips and heels – or is she just sweltering under the lights of the stage she appears to be on? Melting under the gaze of the onlookers. With her arm propped up to hold the weight of her naked body, there is yet another symbol of sensual innuendo; a cultural comment on the 2000s, the playboy bunny. A reference that Hugh Hefner, editor-in-chief of Playboy magazine, described as a “Humorous sexual connotation” that was “frisky and playful”. The rabbit’s symbolism has a somewhat erotic overtone – shy, vivacious and aligns with the overtly sexualised food, all aphrodisiacs in their own right. Yet, once more, not to be dismissed, the inclusion of insects as in Evol Love. Small insertions of reality amongst the allegedly desirable; a reminder that not everything is what it seems.
Yet another masked figure broaching the subject of production and consumption; Fool’s Gold depicts an audacious supervillain on a solo heist for what he foolishly mistakes for something of value. Weaving in a labyrinthine of lasers, tittering on the edge of danger for nothing more than a lump of iron sulphide. Caught off guard by the stone’s superficial resemblance to gold, the figure is soon to join the collective despair of the 1840s US miners who had to give up the concept of living out their lives as multimillionaires. An orchestrated criminal of monkey-like proportions, there is a direct correlation to that of Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible. Suspended, tense and clammy; dripping with the weight of what could play out next.

The bittersweet anomaly is yet again a focus for Oli. The push and pull of the art industry and the concept of the supervillain. Swaying back and forth between the balance of freedom and compliance or giving in to the inevitable. With his iconic use of anthropoid characters full of agitated nostalgia, Epp’s grotesque and beautiful characters still compete and the images remain full of visceral drama and enhanced colours. Oxymoron is a diverse landscape, a 21st-century playground of anxieties, consumption and identity.
It is within this boiling pot of personal struggles that his somewhat pessimistic characters continue to tug on our own insecurities, winning over our sympathies, as neither character really seems like they belong in the role that they serve. We continue to be bathed in the bright, artificial colour dripping from each piece, somehow wanting more and more. Much like the incendiary central performance by Joaquin Phoenix in Joker, Oli looks set to have the last laugh.









