You can’t put Brennan in a box. Sometimes it’s pop, sometimes almost surreal trompe l’oeil, sometimes semi-abstract, but always engaging and beautiful. His technical skill is astonishing too, and, for me, the fact that his works are textiles lends a warmth and depth to them, which I love.
Weavers the world over (Brennan lived in Australia, Papua New Guinea and America) owe him a huge debt. We now know that tapestry is not all knights in armour and ladies surrounded by mille-fleurs. It’s not just his consummate skill, it’s that indefinable thing – part beauty, part meaning, part magic – that makes your heart beat faster.