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Tuesday 3 November 2015
Monday 2 November 2015
Singles Day // Jade Townsend with Jordana Bragg // 30 Upstairs Gallery // October 16-November 11 // Instagram.com/upandadamart // Images by Kari Schmidt
In his video work Death Workshop, Hiroharu Mori documents a series of workshops he undertook with Japanese students wherein the students imagined and enacted their own deaths. These included, for example, death via earthquake, pancreatic cancer, a cough in the night and a sudden, inexplicable falling to the ground.
There is a certain tedium to this work as we witness each student work through their imagined demise – it takes some time to feel involved in the piece, and even then it can still feel banal. However, Death Workshop does have a certain aesthetic quality in the artist’s framing of the students, and there is much to empathise with in this work. For example, one of the students expresses their likely bitterness at having to die from an earthquake after having been so careful their whole life. A desire to contact loved ones is also expressed, and a to leave something behind even if it’s just words. And hope – “I don’t [sic] wouldn’t want to get chemo… I might cave in and hope to be cured.” Through experiencing these enactments of death, you do start to think about your own eventual passing – when will that moment be? Tomorrow? Or in 70 years? Will it be painful? A short death or a fast one? What will be my last words (“In the end, I’d definitely want to die saying something impressive”)? Will I be alone or with the ones I love? What time will it be? What will be the last thing I ever see? Eat? Hear?
The process and collaboration inherent in producing any kind of theatre is also evident in this work, the conversations and interactions between students to some extent constituting the piece. In many cases, there is discussion over how the death should look, or how the individual would feel. There is also a lot of laughing and humour – an approach which obviously helps the students to deal with this particularly heavy theme. Because this is not a real play there is also an informality to these negotiations – the students laugh, the props are basic (a small heater representing a tumour in one instance) and we can see the room they practice in - soda bottles on the table, shoes lined up along the mat. Which just goes to show how the acting out of a thing – so obviously fake and play as it is – can bring a concept to life and help us to work through the anxieties and emotions associated with it.
Thursday 29 October 2015
Bruce Barber // Bruce Barber: Performance Scores // Adam Art Gallery 3 October - 18 December // Curated by Stephen Cleland // instagram.com/upandadamart // Image by Kari Schmidt
CAUTION: AFTER IMAGE MAY CAUSE CONFUSION, WONDERMENT, AND A GENERAL QUESTIONING OF THE REALITY OF THE WORLD AROUND YOU.
Andrew Beck is an Auckland based artist who has exhibited his work in New Zealand as well as Tokyo, Melbourne and Berlin. What began as a study of photography at Massey University of Wellington transformed into an exploration of the creation of photographs without a camera. This may sound like a fool’s errand, but photography has its roots in the method. Early developments in photography by scientist Anna Atkins for example, with the Cyanotype (fig.1) or more famously Lace (fig. 2) by William Henry Fox Talbot, saw the use of photosensitive paper that reacted with light when exposed. Read Lucy Jackson’s Adam Art Gallery Seminar Series: ‘In Absentia: The Politics of Cameraless Photography’ by Geoffrey Batchenfor a more detailed discussion about the medium. What Beck has done is utilised this technique in his rhetoric about the use of space and its interaction with light. His installation in the Adam Art Gallery entitled After Image is part of a larger exhibition The Specious Present, which consists of four artists whose work visually articulates William James concept of the ‘specious present’. It denotes a period of time that is longer than the present moment but that exists between the past and the future.
Fig. 1
Fig. 2
When I first saw Beck’s pieces at the exhibition, I was immediately enthralled, intrigued, and a little more than confused. He had created objects of indeterminate origin, undetectable technique and interesting form. To quote the Greek philosopher Socrates – ‘I am wise because I know one thing, that I know nothing’. I was flummoxed. What was obvious however was that Beck was playing off the light and space of the gallery itself. An innate understanding that your experience of a piece such as Linear Split (8 phases) (fig. 3),depended on your understanding of light and corresponding shadows and the way these were cast within the gallery space was obvious. Beck achieves through his work a sense of spatial awareness both in the viewer but also of the objects themselves. Shadow Strips Cascade (fig. 4) for example is a site specific piece that relies on the strip of light contributed by the architecture of the gallery itself, each photogram is made to look like a reaction to the piece directly before it. To create these Beck would place a piece of paper overtop of another light sensitive piece and with exposure to light would cause the white silhouette to remain. This to me is the epitome of the ‘specious present’ by which the cascade represents a continuous reaction to the light of the gallery space that means the artwork remains in a constant state of stasis.
Fig. 3
Fig. 4
Beck’s artwork itself exists in an in-between, and is a play on the duality of being, in that it becomes both photograph and painting, object and shadow, natural and manmade. As I stood in front of his work Linear Split (8 phases) my friend pointed out to me that she couldn’t decide whether the shadows projected by the glass were painted on or were in fact real shadows cast by the installation. We proceeded to spend a further ten minutes inspecting the shadows and still coming to no conclusion. Beck’s body of work intentionally plays on the exhibition space itself, causing you to question the validity of the term ‘unusable space’, what is gallery and what is installation, what is real and what is manufactured. An exhibition of Beck’s at the Galerie Luis Campaña utilised paint to create Invariant Shadow (fig. 5)which saw an abstraction of the idea of the realistic shadows that have previously plagued his work, to develop into a question surrounding the credibility of the work itself. The space, previously written-off as unusable in a gallery context, is transformed into a work of art through manipulation of our understanding of light sources, cast shadows and gallery space.
Fig. 5
Some of Beck’s earlier works betray the scientific facet of the medium’s ancestry. 11.35-11.55am (light drawing) (fig. 6),required knowledge of light patterns in situ at the Hamish McKay Gallery in Wellington. The abstract sundial (fig. 7) in the open window at the Govett-Brewster in New Plymouth was also time and light reliant, and echoes the use of the cyanotype by Atkins for documentary purposes rather than artistic. This piece represents a specific time of day that Beck has transformed into a continuous moment, the shadow of which is painted in black as cast by a metal rod. The metal rod embodies the ubiquitous nature of objects, by which the rod is industrial but has now been transformed into ornamental. These earlier works stand to show the development of Beck’s work from studying sources of light in relation to time, to involving space and creating philosophical, abstract objects of modernity.
Fig. 6
Fig. 7
When filtered through the medium of photography again, Beck’s images transform to inhibit another dimension. A dimension that is becoming more prevalent in a world of technology and social media, and the availability of that technology which encourages the institution of the snapshot photograph. The reflective surfaces of such intriguing photograms invite the viewer to use their own cameras to capture an image of the pieces such as Descending Platforms (fig. 8). The resulting photograph involves the viewer, who has thus been transformed into the object, as a representation of themselves is merged with the image of Beck’s. The viewer now also occupies the space of the image, meaning that in a way the viewer has come full circle in not just observing visual representations of the specious present, but becoming a part of it.
Fig. 8
Saturday 17 October 2015
Tenderness Is Not A Weakness // 2-10th October, 2015 // Annalise Enoka // In Good Company // Image by Field Skjellerup (https://instagram.com/upandadamart/)
Check out this event today - 2pm at the Adam Art Gallery!
"Join us for the second of two sessions in which Victoria University of Wellington Art History Honours students talk about the exhibition they've curated, Traces of the Wake: The Etching Revival in Britain and Beyond.
All welcome, free entry."
Fig 1. François Bonvin, Engraver, lamp effect (Graveur, effet de lampe), 1861, Etching on vellum, Private collection
A few months ago galleries around Wellington held an Art Night – an evening of late night art viewing, music, and food, with free buses travelling in between the City Gallery, Te Papa, The Dowse, Pataka, and Expressions. Utilising the opportunity to take a return bus for free (I would go to a lot more places if the transport was free), a friend and I visited the new exhibition at the Dowse Art Museum, Seraphine Pick’s ‘White Noise’. Following a tour by the artist through her largest exhibition since a survey of her work in 2009, we got a glimpse of her working process. White Noise is a collection of her work spanning from the 90’s to her most recent works.
Fig 1. Installation view of ‘White Noise’, dowse.org.nz (Photographer: John Lake)
Seraphine Pick is a bit of a big name in the New Zealand art world – a lot of people may know her work from high school. After completing her Bachelor of Fine Arts in painting in 1988 she went on to be awarded the Olivia Spencer-Bower Foundation award, the Rita Angus Cottage residency, as well as a Frances Hodgkins Fellowship. Her work straddles the world of dreams and reality. Currently, Pick told us, she has been googling images of people and placing them in an ethereal landscape, often searching for poses, and building her concepts around this. The images she chose were based entirely on whether or not she liked them aesthetically, if they seemed right for what she was imagining. In one of her 2015 works she used a found image of the costumed public attending the infamous/famous sevens. With a devil-horned woman on someone else’s shoulders, she makes a relatively harmless image unsettling and sinister. The piece is quite large and quite confronting, when you see it in person.
In style, Pick’s work could be related to that of Surrealism, Symbolism, and Post-Impressionism. It is ethereal, and surreal, and not quite what you would see in your day to day life. It is less about accurately depicting a scene than it is about creating a new scene which holds more meaning, and more emotional impact. This exhibition definitely holds true to these themes, with the title piece ‘White Noise’ an image of a musician seated in a blue, green, and gold landscape with a horse behind him.
Pick’s style comes through in all of the works in the exhibition, creating a harmonious flow as you walk through. Themes are separated into rooms, with her crowds grouped together and separated from the 1960’s flower child paintings. This exhibition also shows a great little series of paintings which are hard not to love – ‘Wankered Again’. In this Pick searched for people lying down, and found a plethora of drunks asleep. Painted in her dreamlike way, the drunk people still look exactly as you would expect, tinged with a bit of humour – after all, we all know those people.
Fig 3. Installation view of ‘White Noise’, dowse.org.nz (Photographer: John Lake)
The exhibition is open until the 17th of January 2016 so there is plenty of time to go out - bring your mum, your brother, and your great aunt Janice, there is plenty to see. Plus, it is a free exhibition (as the Dowse’s exhibitions always are) so there is no reason not to go and enjoy it. I would definitely recommend the exhibition if you are a casual art-goer as it is easy viewing art in many ways. But even for the more seasoned gallery goer this exhibition is enjoyable, and Pick’s new work is certainly exciting and well worth the trip.
David Maskill is giving a talk today (8th October, 2015) at the Adam Art Gallery. Check out the Facebook link here. "In this talk, Senior Lecturer in Art History at Victoria University of Wellington David Maskill looks at how Te Papa’s collections have come to be so rich in British prints from The Etching Revival. In particular, Maskill examines the roles of the Wellington collector, Sir John Ilott (1884-1973), and the London dealer Harold Wright (1885-1961) in the formation of the collection.
Art History in Practice is a regular series of seminars showcasing the ‘work’ of art history in which established and emerging art historians working inside and outside the academy present on their current and recent research."
Image 1. Frank Brangwyn, (Belgian/British 1867-1956), The Pont Neuf, 1916, Etching, drypoint and aquatint, 557 x 760mm, Private Collection
Just discovered the amazing BBC documentary series, What Do Artists Do All Day? The series consists of interviews with contemporary artists within the contexts of their homes and studios, giving us the chance to see how artists work and think. We cannot recommend it highly enough.
Sunday 20 September 2015
Touch memory #1, 2#, 3#, // Anna Noble // 1999/2015 // Pigment Prints // The Engine Room // Image by Max Fleury (https://instagram.com/upandadamart/)
Check out this event at the Adam Art Gallery tomorrow (19th September, 2015), at 2pm. The Specious Present finishes this Sunday so be sure not to miss it!
Please join us this Saturday as Dr. Justin Sytsma, philosophy lecturer at Victoria University of Wellington, provides an introduction to contemporary theories of time. The particular focus of Sytsma’s discussion will be the American philosopher William James’ notion of ‘the specious present’, the namesake of the Adam Art Gallery's exhibition concluding this Sunday 20 September.
Before coming to Wellington, Sytsma was an assistant professor at East Tennessee State University, after receiving his PhD in History and Philosophy of Science from the University of Pittsburgh in 2010. Sytsma has contributed to numerous philosophy journals and books including the recent publication Advances in Experimental Philosophy of Mind, 2014.
If you haven’t yet seen this work, head into the Adam Art
Gallery before this exhibition finishes (this Sunday the 20th!) to
check it out.
Colin McCahon, Walk (Series C) 1973, synthetic polymer paint on unstretched jute canvas, 11 panels. Collection of Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa (photo: Shaun Waugh)
Walk (Series C), painted in 1973is
a monumental work by Colin McCahon, and seldom seen, since its purchase in
recent years from a private collection by Te Papa, who graciously have loaned
it to the Adam. Monochromatric, and disarming in size, it is neatly divided
into 11 pieces, almost all linked by a single flowing horizon line of the sea. Hung at eye level,
it keeps pace with me as I pause on each panel to contemplate. Am I keeping in
step with Colin McCahon as he walked alongside this work mindfully, after each
panel was complete? Did his eyes drift, slow, and then come to a still to inspect the
same minute, scuffings of brush marks, and canvas threads unwinding on the
edges? My eyes glide along the morse-code short and long dashes of the horizon
line.
We can view this painting as consisting of four layers of journeys or walks, which have been
conceptually layered and co-exist.
The first: When we view this work, we, the viewer are compelled to walk from
end to end of it in order to examine the whole work. This walk is our own
journey of experiencing the painting, and keeps pace with our mental or
emotional experience of the work.
The second: In doing so, we fall into step with McCahon’s own physical journey
along Muriwai beach – although in
different temporal and spatial boundaries – open to the different sensory and
emotive experiences of the wind, the sand, the water, the saliferous smell of
the sea. After his friend James K. Baxter’s death in 1972, McCahon painted this
work as an homage to the poet, perhaps thinking of him as he walked along the
beach. Here,
he has recorded the seascape, with the water and sky divided by a continuous thin
line. McCahon reproduces this experience in his painting, walking
alongside the strips of canvas while dabbing and dashing different dividing lines
of land, sea, sky. Captured in different possible weather conditions, some are misty,
hazy views while some are sharp, and clearly delineated.
The third: The walk of Christ to his execution, and the
moments leading up to, and following his death. The canvas is marked with the
Roman numerals 1-14, signifying the 14 Christian ‘Stations of the Cross’ – a reflective
journey some people undertake around Easter, following different art works in
physical spaces, or symbolic or literary anchor points in order to contemplate
each experience that Jesus may have gone through. For example, the first panel
has the numerals ‘I’ and ‘II’ inscribed, divided by a thick black ‘T’ of a
cross. These two stations are traditionally held to be Jesus sentenced to death
by crucifixion, and Jesus picking up the cross to carry it up the hill to his
death. Here, the ‘T’ cross marks both the imminent method of execution, and the
physical strain of the beginning of Jesus’ walk, carrying the physical
weight of the instrument of his death. The only other thick black vertical
section McCahon has painted is number 11, Jesus being nailed to the cross. This
heavy, driving downward line brings to mind the exertion of nails being driven
through Christ’s flesh to affix him to the wood. It is followed by three
stacked sections of thicker grey paint, the top section black, for the panel
representing the 12th and 13th stations: Jesus’ death and
deposition from the cross. ‘Reading’ this panel, our eye drags downward on this
canvas from the darkest stripe at the top, effectively mirroring the downward
pulling of Jesus’ body from the cross.
The fourth: The spiritual journey to the afterlife of deceased
Māori souls, up the West coast of Aotearoa New Zealand, past Muriwai beach and
onto the sacred site of Cape Reinga, where they depart from the ancient pohutukawa
tree. There, they travel down the overhanging roots of the tree, into the
ocean. The spirit would surface briefly at Manawatawai (Three Kings Island) to
take a final look at the landscape, occupied by the living, before continuing
on to the next world. McCahon’s end panel, painted white, has a faint tracing
of a line in the sky, floating parallel to the sea – perhaps a spirit taking
its last journey.
Check out this review on The Specious Present exhibition currently showing at Adam Art Gallery here by Mark Amery on Eyecontact. The show finishes at the end of this week - hit it before you miss it!!
How much time and in what space does the present occupy? Does it end when someone walks around the corner, leaving your vision? Do you and them co-exist together in the same present moment or in different ones?
David Claerbout, The Quiet Shore, 2011, single channel video projection, black & white, silent, 36 min 32 sec, courtesy the artist and galleries Micheline Szwajcer, Brussels; Sean Kelly, New York; Untilthen, Paris (http://www.adamartgallery.org.nz/)
The word “Palimpsest” was coined in the mid 17th
century and is derived from the Greek palin
– ‘again’ – and psēstos – ‘rubbed
smooth’ or ‘to scrape’. It was originally used to refer to a piece of writing
material (a parchment, for example) which had been used more than once after
earlier writing has been erased. More recently however, palimpsest has been used to describe something as having different
layers of history – usually still visible.
Dedication of the National War Memorial
Carillon, Wellington, 1932
One recent example of the palimpsest of
different histories, memories and stories, is the building and development of
Wellington’s Pukeahu National War Memorial Park. Pukeahu was the original Maori
place name for Mount Cook, Wellington. It can be translated to “hill-heaped-up”
or “sacred hill”. Pukeahu was originally used as apā (a hill fortification) by the Te Ati Awa tribe and much of
the surrounding land was used as gardens, for food.
An 1852 watercolour by John Pearse showing two small Māori
figures heading up towards the Buckle Street army barracks. Image: Alexander
Turnball Library. fromhttp://www.learnz.org.nz/memorialpark134/bg-easy-f/the-history-of-mount-cook-pukeahu
When European settlers arrived in 1840, they too saw that
Pukeahu was a good site to defend, and built numerous prisons, as well as
police and army barracks there. The hill was then used for a number of military
purposes. Since European settlement, Pukeahu has obviously been heavily
modified. The once cone-shaped hilltop has been flattened and lowered by about
30 metres, thus removing any remnants of Maori use and occupation; a metaphor
for the erosion of Maori culture at the hands of white colonisers.
Archaeologists carefully excavated this gun pit at the
Taranaki end of Buckle Street before the diversion road was built. From http://www.learnz.org.nz/memorialpark134/bg-easy-f/the-history-of-mount-cook-pukeahu
After the First World War, the New Zealand Government decided
to build the National War Memorial on Pukeahu because of its shared and
military history. In 1931, the army barracks were demolished to make way for
the National Art Gallery, the Dominion Museum building and the National War
Memorial Carillon.
An 1849 sketch of Wellington, done from the near where the
Beehive is today. Mount Cook can be seen in the distance, with the military
barracks on its peak.
Credit: Alexander Turnbull Library. Reference: A-292-071. Drawing by Thomas Bernard Collinson.
Once the Second World War was underway, pressure was put on
lower Mount Cook to enlarge its capacity for military operations, in order to
accommodate the expansion of New Zealand’s forces. The Royal New Zealand Air
Force occupied much of the Dominion Museum building, and underground bunkers,
air raid shelters, and trenches were dug into the hill.
The main Wellington Technical College building can be seen in
the centre of this photograph taken in 1934 during the construction
of the National Art Gallery and Dominion Museum.
Credit: Alexander Turnbull Library. Photograph by Sydney Charles Smith.
In recent years, in August 2012, the Government
announced their plan for the Pukeahu National War Memorial Park. Their plans
included putting Buckle Street underground, in order to improve the area
surrounding the National War Memorial Carillon. The project began in 2013 and
was finished in 2015, in order to commemorate the centenary of the ANZAC
landings at Gallipoli, Turkey.
It is through the layers of this shared military history,
that the Government decided to place Pukeahu National War Memorial Park at the
foot of Mount Cook. And it is through the palimpsest of memories and stories
that serve to remind New Zealanders of the sacrifices that so
many individuals and whanau have endured – from the original inhabitants of the
Te Ati Awa tribe, to the men and women who fought and worked
in wars both overseas and at home – in order that we do not submit ourselves
and each other to more bloodshed of this kind.
