According to the lengthy epilogue written by the artist's brother, Piet Agle, Shag's latest book, which showcases new work from an exhibition held in California last November, heralds a significant change in direction for the painter, designer and illustrator who made his name with groovy, minimalist images of tiki, voodoo, lounge and all things mid-twentieth century American kitsch culture. Piet says his brother Josh Agle (Shag being a contraction of last and first halves of his fore and surnames) went to an emotional dark place during a road trip to a Palm Springs gallery opening and at some point announced that after 20 years toiling at the drawing board he was done producing pictures of men in sharp suits and women with bouffant hairdos enjoying drinks at cocktail parties and that he wanted to make a fresh start. Autumn's Come Undone is it.

The new collection comprises large panels divided into dip- and triptychs, which are accompanied by short poems and feature busy, panoramic scenes of a variety of nightmarish visions somewhat reminiscent of the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch. Much of the styling of the figures that appear in them is a mix of Victorian and Edwardian-era British, although fifties Americana - a bikini-clad chick in a motorboat, beatniks painting naked babes – pops up here and there. There are lots of children on view for the first time and the bright cocktail lounge colours have been replaced by sombre hues. So, in a sense, Autumn's Come Undone is indeed a fresh start.

And in another sense, it isn't. Despite the darker tone and content of the images, and accepting the different sources of inspiration, the new book is still very recognisably old Shag, not least because his illustrative style is so very distinctive. The thing is, where Shag's work was a perfect fit with 1950s and 60s American kitsch, both in terms of style and substance (or lack thereof of the latter), it sits less comfortably with Victoriana and Edwardianana. Moreover, the suggestion of emotional and psychological complexity suggested by the nightmarish panoramas just doesn't wash. It doesn't help that, as ever, the artist refuses to explain his work. But most of all, the images - spume whales dangling from hot air balloons, whiskered men wearing bear costumes, Parisienne gendarmes locked in gilded cages playing harps - are just plain daft, and daft does not equate with depth of meaning.

In the epilogue, Piet notes his brother's concern that his change of direction will undermine his previous work. Shag should be more concerned about the fate of the new material.
Miles Fielder