Every painting by Michael Simpson presents an opportunity for the mind to race ahead, to imagine scenarios. Now in his 80s, his paintings are an unpeopled theatre of objects and allusions. For a long time they have intrigued me. There is something insistent, disturbing and highly individual about his art. With a few plainly described objects casting their scant shadows on the oil-painted surfaces – ladders, steps and portable ramps, vertiginous stairs, stools and benches, office chairs and closed cabins – they offer an invitation to the viewer to step into them. Everything is offered to us at the smallest remove. Come on in, they say, scale the ladder or take a seat. Except, mostly, you wouldn’t want to.
