
Millican Dalton: A Sublime Midlife Crisis
The relevance of a 20th century cave-dweller to environmental aesthetics.
Wednesday, 23 December 2020

At the mouth of the cave at Borrowdale, May 2020. Photograph: Lewis Eaton.
On a swelteringly hot day in the North Western Fells of The Lake District, the gaping mouth of a cave offered itself as a refuge and swallowed us mercifully into its cool damp interior. Caves are otherworldly places. This particular cave, set into the hillside of Castle Crag, allows you to peer out at the gently swaying trees and glimmering daylight of the outside world from a viewing point void of light and sound. The daytrip itself had been to seek refuge in The Lakes; an attempt at replacing the stagnancy of a locked-down city summer with a more welcome, less claustrophobic, kind of tranquillity. We spent a few minutes scrambling around on the siltstone, marvelling at the height of the cave walls and exchanging the obligatory comments about feeling small in big spaces. On leaving, I noticed a large, flat stone covered in scrawlings. At the centre in neat, deeply-etched letters read ‘Don’t Waste Words, Jump to Conclusions’ with dozens of smaller sections of writing surrounding this. Each gave names and dates, with many faded with age and dissolving back into the stone’s surface. It was from a frantic Googling during the car ride home that I came to find out we had happened across a sort-of pilgrimage place for hikers: the cave in which a man had lived out his summers for over forty consecutive years.
In 1904, at the age of thirty-six, Millican Dalton gave up his life as an insurance clerk in London in order to dedicate himself to The Great Outdoors. Having spent part of his childhood in Nenthead, the North Pennines, he found life and work in the capital stifling in comparison. From then on Dalton split his year, spending the summer months in the cave under Castle Crag and winters in a canvas hut in Buckinghamshire. Far from your conventional hermit, Dalton was an active and sociable member of the community. He organised camping excursions for the outdoors novice which included teaching hiking, rock climbing, rafting and how to forage for food. What I found extraordinary for the time was that these excursions didn’t exclude women, with one of Dalton’s advertisements for a mountaineering course stating his views bluntly: “Ladies are welcome to the camp. There is nothing new in ladies camping, the custom being at least 10,000 years old.” This rare indiscriminate approach led to Dalton forging a long-lasting friendship with geologist Mabel Barker, who over the years consistently recommended Dalton’s courses to women students and friends.

Dalton and Barker atop a needle, 1913. The Mable Barker Collection.
exhıbıtıon revıew
Toyin Ojih Odutola: A Countervailing Theory
A World of Fantasy and Reimagined Power
by Jamie Kodera | 30 December 2020

Installation view, Toyin Ojih Odutola, A Countervailing Theory, Barbican, London, 10 Aug 2020 - 24 Jan 2021
I visited Toyin Ojih Odutola’s A Countervailing Theory back in October, anticipating the artist’s first UK exhibition after being awestruck by her Whitney Museum debut, To Wander Determined, in 2018. Known for creating deliciously luminous and textured surfaces, the Nigerian-American artist works almost exclusively in portrait drawing. Her large-scale works comprise a greater narrative when exhibited together. It’s always a treat to see these stories in person and with a curious mind. After viewing A Countervailing Theory at the Barbican Centre, I’m itching to return.
Once you enter The Curve gallery, the natural light that floods the Brutalist Barbican is suddenly shuttered out as the doors close behind you. Immediately, you are enveloped by the dim atmosphere; a space for deep contemplation. I was intrigued by the air of mystery that is stimulated by both the dark ambiance and the accompanying soundscape that Ghanaian-British sound artist Peter Adjaye composed in response to Ojih Odutola’s work. On one side of gallery, the walls are painted floor-to-ceiling in incrementally deepening shades of grey. The artists monumental scale black and white drawings occupy the sightlines at different registers, only to disappear behind the bush hammered concrete pillar around which The Curve wraps. It is therefore impossible to view the exhibition in its entirety (forty works total), resulting in a slow, cinematic unfolding of the events depicted. Although the exhibition planning likely commenced months (if not years) prior to the pandemic, the layout of the gallery and the directional progression of the show are conducive to safe movement in our current moment.
The wall text at the start of the exhibition defines A Countervailing Theory as the idea of ‘countering an existing power with an equal force’. The notion speaks to Ojih Odutola’s greater practice of reinventing histories and challenging existing narratives through storytelling. In this show, she presents a prehistoric Nigerian civilisation ruled by dominant female-coded figures whilst male-coded labourers work and serve. Homosexuality is compulsory, as the characters are forbidden from forging relationships (sexual or emotional) with the opposite gender. Power structures that we are accustomed to are subverted, but the contrasting dominant social functions are not without their consequences. Nonetheless, the beauty of this radical alternative reality made me long for something different than the norm we know.
Inspired by the Jos Plateau in central Nigeria, the artist both embraces her cultural heritage and rewrites its past. The richly rendered surfaces of the depicted topography lend it a strong visual appeal. By creating a female dominated society that predates the Nok civilisation, Ojih Odutola proposes a history that feels simultaneously futuristic, with elements of fantasy and mythology at play. Encountering the unfamiliar world begs the questions: What would it look like if women held the power in society? What if homosexuality was the only acceptable relationship dynamic? What if we focused on flourishing black histories at the pinnacle of their independence?
Ojih Odutola presents each drawing as a single episode within a greater story, encouraging the viewer to devise their own narrative. For me, seeing same-sex love as standard furthered my desire for queer liberation within our current heteronormative reality. Similarly, images of powerful women dressed in striking armour-like garments left me wanting to embody their boldness. By conveying the story through multiple images, different interpretations are possible. With the room Ojih Odutola leaves for ambiguity and speculation, I was left constructing my own queer fantasy from the narrative. Although my takeaways come from a place of understanding the violence that marginalised people face in our current society, Ojih Odutola urges us to consider the flaws that exist under any oppressive power structure.
Ojih Odutola ends the exhibition with a striking revelation in writing that reveals her own imagined story (the catalogue also details the characters fate). Nonetheless, the artist’s work demands active participation – not only in deciphering what’s depicted, but in creating our own versions of the story through incorporating our personal experiences. The work then becomes just as much about us (and speaks to our own histories) as it is about the characters that she’s created. Ojih Odutola opens up a world of possibilities when we are left to reconsider how history is told and presented.
I encourage you to book a trip to the Barbican Centre once lockdown measures are lifted. A Countervailing Theory is a transformational show like no other drawing exhibition I have seen before. I hope your experience will be unique as you carry your own histories and perceptions into the story, and that it challenges you as much as it serves to please visually.

Toyin Ojih Odutola, A Parting Gift; Hers and Hers, Only, 2019, Charcoal, pastel and chalk on board


Installation view, Toyin Ojih Odutola, A Countervailing Theory, Barbican, London, 10 Aug 2020 - 24 Jan 2021
Toyin Ojih Odutola, To See and To Know; Future Lovers, 2019, Charcoal, pastel and chalk on board