2004

David Kefford portrays all life as a tragic -comic theatre of awkwardness. Starting from armatures of consumer detritus rescued from junk shops and car boot sales, he works up his sculptural assemblages into unwieldly figures that don't seem to quite fit in with the world or, indeed, each other. Two L-shaped blobs are roped together in a distinctly uncomfortable sexual embrace. An obese, slimy-looking thing wearily rests its swollen, top-heavy head on the gallery floor. Other sad cases totter on spindly legs, dangle limply from the ceiling or lean against the walls. Kefford's absurd tableux are nevertheless somehow touching. One cannot but feel empathetic with these poor souls' doomed struggles to transcend the brute gravitational weight of dead matter.

Robert Clark - Guardian Guide, 2004