MICHAEL HANNA: LOOKING BACKWARD, PS2, Belfast, November 30 – December 21, 2019

I write this while the gallery is moving once more,  above is a photo of a new place in Rosemary Street. Below – ready to move?

 

 

 

Mimicking a threatened organism the PS2 moves and moves to survive. It feels like an omen, that Hanna’s theme of utopia was the final work at its ground floor showroom in the Royal Avenue.

 

I missed the HIVE choir performance in response to the exhibition.

The lights zoom on some words  of the cut and pasted text from the romantic novel set in Belfast, the notorious Mills and Boon editions. Its hall mark –  a happy ending is a sibling of utopia.

Monument VIII, 2019, Paper on dibond, 142×142 cm

From a distance -when the details merge into rhythm of dark and light grey, it  is reminiscent of Rothko’s grey on grey (I saw it in a Deutsche Bank collection, no image). Viewed nearer the surface, its aesthetics hurries up to be nearer a newsprint,  anxious to let the eye to read words. That difference pulsed like a  life energy determined to cross over mysterious layers of imagination, quickly evaporating.

Hanna decided that the closure would be entrusted to the video, at the end of the walk among the exhibits.  As if premonition of HIVE’s use of light he called it “INDOOR SUNLIGHT” (2019)

It is 16 minutes long  – feels longer in its lento tempo… It offers no  linear story – instead various fragments of various levels of being, found, arranged or constructed, the video offers a flow of appropriated or recorded footage of whatever arrested Hanna’s observation on his journeys  here and across Europe. Nothing is identified by place or name. It constantly provokes and disappoints search for meaning, for some stable identity.

xxx

The gallery handout  issued for the viewer of Hanna’s installation gives the statement of intent:

Looking Backward is an exhibition of photography, text, painting and moving-image works by Michael Hanna that considers ideas of promised futures and the relationship between utopia and the local. The exhibition takes its title from a utopian novel written in 1888 by author and journalist Edward Bellamy. The book, which was a bestseller at the time, was written in the midst of great wealth disparity and economic and social turmoil. After over a century of sleep, the narrator awakens in his hometown of Boston in the year 2000 to find himself in a world of post-capitalist harmony. As the story progresses, he learns about the differences between the two periods and eventually recognises the faults of the nineteenth century.

Like much utopian writing, Bellamy uses fiction to navigate his ideological world; however the vast majority of the novel concentrates on detailing its structure. In Bellamy’s future, wealth is shared equally between all, and there is no hunger, poverty, political parties, advertisements, banks or money. The works in Looking Backward respond to this imagined and impossible ‘future-now-past’ state and some of the central themes of the novel through re-worked familiar formats, such as the neon billboard and the romantic novel, and images that employ as well as deny the inherent optimism of utopian world-making…

I have not read theat book, I have not listened to the curator’s ( the talented Alissa Kleist) talk,  I have not joined the vernissage’s crowd. I only spent time with each exhibit.  I prefer and value this freedom for its similarity with listening to a brook in the forest.

First part  near the entrance was displayed to be visible in daylight, the last part followed the now ubiquitous projections in a dark room at the back of the gallery.

The first part was tacit and static. Even the text escaped legibility by preference for minuscule size.  The second part, the video was demanding and refusing to give out its raison d’etre.  Hanna offers in his notes to the exhibition, available as gallery handout, that it “…incorporates, and expands on, the central theme of the exhibition”.

Consequently,  each of the other exhibit ought to partake on that theme.

View from the outside the PS2

 

View towards the entrance

The neon word  on the PS2 shop window corrupts its spelling by NI pronounciation  in a typeface designed in 2004 ( according the gallery handout), making visible the  vulnerability of utopian optimism about the role of the computers. In my experience, we were promised the world with less paper if switched to the new tools for communication. Well – the opposite seems to be the case forty years on. Hard copies of everything in case the internet or software seriously malfunction.  Hanna’s choice of tying it to NI (via pronounciation) is neither true nor helpful. Nevertheless -it appropriates its subject in a kind of playful illusion smeared by an irony.

The walls carry unassuming pictures.

The Diagnostic View IV(2007) 

is a copy of Der Diagnostische Blick IV, 1992, by Luc Tuymans in the same size!

Reviewing this Tuysmans’ paintings, Peter Schjeldahl observed a value pertinent to Hanna’s appropriation of it.

>>Tuymans discovers in the very humiliation of the medium a vitality as surprising as a rosebush on the moon. He does so with nothing-to-lose audacity, in terms of subject matter. If painting has nothing significant left to say, he seems to reason, it might as well say nothing about significant things….He told Artnet that in his initial hours of work, “until I get to the middle of the process – it’s horrific. It’s like I don’t know what I’m doing but I know how to do it, and it’s very strange.” Now, that – uncertain ends, confident means – is about as good a general definition of creativity as I know.<<  (https://saintpassionate.tumblr.com/post/229353138/luc-tuymans-orchid-and-der-diagnostische-blick)

Utopia is a confident means with uncertain ends – and everlasting dream of humanity to put things right. Consider just how many medieval and Baroque painters worked that theme, whether they called it Golden Age or a Silver one or a Paradise…

Hanna’s instinct in his little painting is truer than the laboured collection of strings in the video  Indoor Sunlight, where,  the irony and sober intelligence fight their  corner. Plato’s Republic, Thomas Moore’s Utopia are more known than hundreds of other philosophers grappling with the fact that utopia is as old as the entire historical epoch of human history.  

The two images of plane flying low  share one title “The Ones Who Walk Away” (2019). One was found online, the other is Hanna’s photograph of the plane near an East Belfast school.

 

 

Ownership and use of land  significantly contributes to utopian dreams for freedom and equality.  Increasingly, water and air, are coming under the same controls of ownership. Hanna photographed  Lagan Weir (2012) – a man made structure to control the nature.  That control is not visible.

This appears to be the key image. It connects us to the 19th C  with its inventions of water and steam power. Then several Utopian ideas arose, often in response to the belief that social disruption was created and caused by the development of capitalism.  One classic example of such a utopia was the book Hanna names as his inspiration: Edward Bellamy: Looking Backward (1888). It gave title to this exhibition too.

The title of the 16 minutes  video  Indoor Sunlight is the most direct and ominous characteristics of utopian wants and needs.  Whereas sunlight can enter rooms via glass windows, the reverse does not exist, except in a phantasy, or as  a disaster in our universe.  I think of these  two co-ordinates as necessary condition for the variety of utopia and its stubborn survival.  Fear and imagination are willing bedfellows.  Hanna avoids apocalyptic tones – the video is almost “sunny”  through gentle humour that cuts, contorts, reverts and speeds through the various motives. It is a bazaar of  wants and wishes, one undermining the other by simultaneous multiplicity (open-endednes). As EH Gombrich proposed:  the correct (i.e. intended by the artist) reading of an image is governed by variables: the code, the caption  and the context. (The Image and the Eye. 1982: 142)  If, however the viewer ignores any or all  while preferring the “power of the visible” – an experience similar to moving through nature, the meaning shifts from that intended by the artist to that preferred by the viewer. This is glorious and so rare a freedom, that it needs to be protected. I am certainly guilty of departing from Hanna’s intentions as described in the gallery’s handout, i.e.”…attempts at utopia building and how technology  shapes affective experience and future visions…”.  Instead,  I experienced what Italo Calvino refers to as “rain of images” (Six Memos….,1996:81). Of Europe and NI – appropriated and taken –  making up a sort of rain of images that were reluctant to admit identity or a reason to have one.  My freedom to construct my meaning occurs in relation to the visible  recognition of objects and situations.  And I think that is the crux of why people entertain utopia while knowing that it must fail.  That freedom  exists only in  thinking, imagining, in poetry, visual poetry included. A work of art affords the flow of the meaning between the artist’s free intention and the viewers free response. The freedom creativity craves is worth preserving over and over.  And yes, it is a kind of utopia to aim at one complete account of indissolluble synthesis of L’Etre et le Neant (JP Sartre).

 

Images courtesy Michael Hanna.

 

 

 

 

Raymond Watson: Hands of History +20, Golden Thread Gallery, Belfast, 7th December 2019 -18 January 2020

Watson’s bronze casts of hands of politicians who signed the Great Friday Agreement also known as Belfast Agreement in 1998  echoes some  concerns central to  Situationists, Fluxus. “social sculpture” of J Beuys  as well as the question when is art.  When an “object”when in the gallery is art, and outside it is not. Warhol and the institutional theory of art opened up that issue.

“Hands of History” (left below)  aspire to be a reliable document, do not aspire to be beautiful like  A Rodin’s modelled hands of Burgher’s of Calais  below right.(pierre_et_jacques_de_wissant_main_droite)

 

It is as if Watson shared the following reminiscence:

“All of my work, all of my writing,” Wormser said in an interview with Richard Cambridge in Solstice, “is about the circumstances of Time in terms of each of us as a human being, being born into the world of historical time — what that does — how that plays out in our lives.” (Legends of the Slow Explosion by Baron Wormser is published by Tupelo Press.  Baron Wormser ,born 1948, in Baltimore, Maryland, is an American poet.)

In a tight, if not consciously chosen, parallel the   ArtisAnn Gallery  curated this exhibition  titled  Agreement: The people’s Process, in  four distinct units  connected to the same history.

Photography intensified the verism exhaled by  the bronzes in seven groups from sites of conflict and its transformation in different states.

 

Frankie Quinn, Peace lines,1994

 

Selected and commented upon by Dr Pauline Hadeway the   Invitation to Observe is a lopped digital display of photographs, 17 minutes 15 seconds, Colour and Monochrome.

  1. Belfast Shadows, LCpl Stan Holman’s photographs, collected by Jamie Holman, 1970-1972
  2. Interface Images, Belfast ‘Peacelines’, Frankie Quinn, 1994
  3. Israel – Palestine, Frankie Quinn, 2012
  4. ‘Bitter’ by Sajida Um Mohammed, from Open Shutters Iraq, Eugenie Dolberg, 2006
  5. Labrando Memorias, Edwin Cubillos Rodríguez, 2011
  6. Desapariciones (Disparations), Helen Zout, 2009
  7. Entries, Chad Alexander, 2016

Ursula Kroeber Le Guin  coined a  term “active human interface” for each local history  when  placed into an international continuum, perhaps with a hope for a more comprehensive and complete renewal. The screen with the Invitation to observe  is placed at the end of the Watson’s exhibits, mimicking, evoking,  a music notation – da capo al fine. The hearing is already engaged by the commentary.

Almost on the other side of that wall is a commercially sleek video of  reading  from the text of Agreement titled

  • Lyrical Agreement (2018)  is an animation created for the Institute of Irish Studies,University of Liverpool  by Alt Animation around the excerpts from the GFA text read by persons of all ages and both sides of the border.  The expectation was that a viewer will be compelled to realise the power of that Agreement.  It harnesses, as if effortlessly,  two registers: serenity of hope in the statements and commercial sleekness of the visual design the best adverts are accustomed to.  If you think that the link between political and commercial is vulgar or out of place, consider the reality wherever you are.  Even the cover for that Belfast Agreement was chosen by the commercial partner selected from a bank of commercially available images.  (We also examine the photographic image sent to every household in Northern Ireland on the cover of the historic political agreement. We reveal its location and the identity of the uncredited photographer.  viz editorial in Source, 1998, issue 15 )

The photographs and the reading are still partaking in verism, not in the  loftier classical Greek ideal of kallos agathos in art. Verism has its roots in the idea that art is the way of doing something, a concept with roots in  triumphal  columns of ancient Rome telling the stories of the battle and triumphs, e.g. Trajan Column, AD 107 -113, photo courtesy University of St Andrews)

Image result for trajan's column

 

The next part of the exhibition would have been welcome by William Morris as a support of his late 19th C lecture on Lesser Arts, those rejected by academia but significant for supporting life.

  • Your Legacy Lives On is a set of   three Memorial Quilts courtesy  of the  South East  Fermanagh  Foundation makes those who lost life the subject of their visual art. They do not lionise the signatories of the Agreement, they do not include them.

  • Your Legacy Lives On, Memorial Quilt, H: 188 cms x W: 254 cms ( with stands H: 213 cms x 330 cms), 2014
  • Patchwork of Innocents, Memorial Quilt, H: 175 cms x W: 269 cms ( with stands H: 213 cms x 330cms), 2016
  • Terrorism Knows NO Borders, Memorial Quilt, H: 175 cms x W: 290 cms ( with stands H: 213 cms x330 cms), 2016 (with additions 2019)

The Memorial Quilts hope to encouraging viewers  to consider the  Troubles from  the point of view of lost life.  We shall never be offered the chance to know what those murdered would have invented,  developed, cherished, cared for.  The quilts installation is accompanied by  a brochure Terrorism knows no border.  In it it reads:”  The Memorial quilt is a piece of living history...”(p 4) By chance I found an analogous image from  another country where groups of people make art as a way of coping with their living history.  A young man recites poetry calling for revolution in Khartoom, on June 19, 2019. ( Yasuyoshi Chiba,Getty Images)

 

 

Look at their hands –  even in the meagre illumination by mobile phones the hands are powerfully evocative.  In comparison Watson chose non poetic approach,   moreover, direct casts.

The installation of  the whole exhibition of work by Raymond Watson’s Hands of History +20.  consists from bronze casts, sculpture, performance, video, painting, sound and light installation. found objects,  a print, and short story with close up lens based images.

 

The Hands of History
Material: Bronze and Mourne Granite
Years: 2000 to 2019
The hands are mounted on  granite bases

First group are  bronze casts of hands of the signatories of the Agreement, subsequent casts include group of politicians, Watson perceived as significant in relation to it.

So for ex. In the smaller group are all the  signatories who actually worked on the Agreement and took the courageous decisions to stop the runaway violence.

 

The bigger group includes those who followed their example. This ethical distinction is not made visible. The names indicate the later stage of support for the Agreement.

  • The Good Friday / Belfast Agreement was signed on Friday 10th April, 1998 
  • The Referendum was held across the Island of Ireland on Friday 22nd May 1998
  • David Trimble and Seamus Mallon were designated First Minister and Deputy First Minister on Wednesday 1 st July 1998
  • The NI Executive took power on Thursday 2nd December 1999

The bronze casts are standing for each of the signatories, thus the disembodied hand is a tropos of  synecdoche for those who signed that agreement.  Initials at the lower edge of each indicate the identity. The hands are “imprints” of a living tool, of hands that signed that agreement, which in turn  allowed to old “world” to meet the one that did not exist yet.

A tropos, esp the metaphor or synecdoche, according to I. A. Richards in The Philosophy of Rhetoric (1936), consists of two parts: the tenor and vehicle. The tenor is the subject to which attributes are ascribed., here the hands of the persons.  The vehicle is the subject from which the attributes are borrowed,i.e. the text. The text, the agreement amongst them all.

The preference for the hand as a tenor  has been documented all over the globe, since the earliest cave paintings.

Santa Cruze,, Argentina, Cueva de los Manos,13000 -9000 years ago,sprayed from bone made pipes.

Durham University researchers identified a link between hand prints (tenor) and the rock(vehicle): “Using morphometric data we were able to show that in all cases only a small number of individuals – 3 or 4 – left prints in each cave, and the size and finger ratios of these were consistent with these being female. We were able to show that in all caves studied the greater majority of hand stencils were associated with specific features of the cave walls. An association with small bosses on the walls which the hands appear to be ‘gripping’. Watson makes his hands “voting” not signing the document.

Associations with cracks were very evident too; perhaps enforcing the notion that cracks in cave walls form points at which this world meets another.” (my italics) (https://www.dur.ac.uk/archaeology/research/projects/all/?mode=project&id=640)

The key words are ” the points at which this world meets another“. The similarity among all cave paintings  be it France, Spain, Balkan(2018) or Borneo (2018) points to shared experiences in decisive mapping up of shared rules: human figures just as dark silhouettes, animals  strong and alive.

The hands are “imprints” of a living tool. That idea appears in the casts made by Watson: hands that signed that agreement allowed to old “world” to meet the one that did not exist yet.

The cave paintings have emotional force, which Watson’s casts have to do without.  E.g. In 1928, the artist and critic Amédée Ozenfant wrote of the art in the Les Eyzies caves, “Ah, those hands! Those silhouettes of hands, spread out and stencilled on an ochre ground! Go and see them. I promise you the most intense emotion you have ever experienced.”

The whole of the current exhibition approximates  that insight with some effort, it is a cold art.  Whereas, below, Ken Bartley’s photographs responding to his viewing animate the small bronze sculptures which silent on a pedestal reduce themselves  to a document. It means, every viewer’s experience is open ended, changed by moving around, looking closely.

The significance of hand as visualisation of a fact thus satisfies its use even when the legal text is its real defender and guarantor. As an exhibit, it obtains freedom to associate with noisy disagreement at one stage and elation when resolved.

This exhibition anticipates the  focus entertained for  The  Armory Show 2020 planned  as “the ways in which artists construct a version of reality when the boundaries of fact and art are shifting”. Indeed Watson casts the real hands without modelling, like death masks.  In comparison, for example,  with 40 sculpted portraits  the difference becomes obvious.

Doncaster Heads (2018-2019) were sculpted from life each in two hours sittings. Edwards remarked: ” my hands were like they were at a typewriter”. (https://messumslondon.com/exhibitions/exhibition-laurence-edwards-minors-heads/)

Both Watson and Edwards give up a significant part of their imagination to strengthen the documentary value of their subject.

Watson goes  further when he applies self-confession about his  jail sentence for belonging to IRA. He also gives up the visibility of it, burdening  the sound with greater significance. Art as a confession has been with us for decades, think of Tracy Emin etc. Watson’ s resonates also with older cases – in literature.  Dostojevski writes after his death sentence was muted to 4 years in a Siberian labour camp followed by compulsory service in the Tsar army with:” If anyone remembers me with malice…I would like to love and embrace at least someone…”. Watson chose less emotional reminiscence, reminding me of Maxim Gorki’s  realistic confession : My universities (ie my life and experiences).

In another exhibit Watson performs to a camera. Consequently the aesthetic impact depends on both the performer and the operator of the lens.   The Grappling Hook, made by an unnamed prisoner, is a found object. Watson uses it to climb so called Peace Walls.

“The Grappling Hook” – A Video Installation Digital Film, Colour with Stereo Audio, 5 Minutes 21 seconds (2018)

 

 

It feels of now and essential. Also the artist making the performance is  the man now, not that youth in the prison.

I suppose as it shifts from document to private experience, the performance hits the viewer with the impatient wish that Northern Ireland develops its future free of the inherited divisions. In places this video is poetic. It has a soul twin,  made in collaboration  with light, the installation,  The Keys.
Metal Keys and Cables with Quadrophonic Audio, 13 Minutes 16 Seconds (2018)

Watson collected the keys after the Crumlin Road Gaol was decommissioned.  He says that the aim was to examine the notion of imprisonment and freedom. That becomes visible on some of the keys carrying the label easily identified with the jail.   However, it is not the sound, but the light source-  as they project the shadows onto the draperies -that defines this installation as art.  The sound track is almost able to stand on its own somewhere else, or not to be there at all.

 

When projected onto the curtains The Keys  morph into human silhouettes, reminiscent of  one Magritte’s painting, making up a mute chorus.

In addition, Watson installed  six more exhibits.

A Cold Floor,2002, yew and mahagony, 20x30x45cm

The book indicates traditional belief systems, the disembodied feet allow both inherited trust in the old belief and  its critique. as the disembodied feet  recall martyrdom of irrational  believers.

Blast Bomber,2002, bronze and sandstone, 35x15x15cm

In a visual paradox of the move,  the figure is ‘playing cricket’ and   ‘letting go’ of destructive forces. Your choice.

Visible mutilation of bodies by sorrow evokes contrary interpretations.

Not my Son,2002, limewood, snadstone, 45x15x50 cm
The motive of mutilation, of cut off  limbs as sign of martyrdom,  appear also in the painting  with identifiable “holy” books as a ground on which some people feel safe standing.


Holy Books, 2019, Oil on Canvas 60 x 80 cm

A kind of bitter irony feeds the increased loss of identification in the only print exhibited, The Legend, 2001, photo etched, 95 x 127 cm

 

The confessional exhibit twins images and speech in Unlocking. Close up photographs of keys and identification tags describe Watson return to the de-comissioned jail.  Watson shares his memories and reflections about them.

 

‘Unlocking’ – A Video Installation Digital Film, Colour with Stereo Audio, 22 Minutes, 6 Seconds (2018)

His preferred mode is relational aesthetics as he gives up autonomy in service to  devotion to the grand and impressive historical facts, in service to documenting politics and self as its part.  Reminiscent of socialist realism? Yes, in being dominated by the ideology of the day.  It is as if he realised that the power of an object and a story  fails to switch on that all important denouement, catharsis. As the exhibition battles against the anxiety of remembering it cannot win against the anxiety rooted in the gap between its intention and viewers current experience of the real. The multiple triggers of history then and now are similar and yet constant state of emergency to change.

Peter Bazalgette mentioned the inherent values of culture in defining personal and national identities through collective memory.  Watson challenges that by stripping that idea down to the personal experience of material objects:  It is only as good as the person who tell it or write it, or paint it, or sculpt it. I do not doubt that he also is acutely aware of the power of choices, and of necessary incompleteness.

While many people were involved in the lengthy process of bringing peace to Northern Ireland, journalist Brian Rowan assessed Fr Alec Reid’s legacy in the 14 Days documentary: “I think when the historians look back on 30 years of conflict here, and on the journey of war to peace, the story will not be told without the name of Alec Reid right in the middle of it all.” Also in 2013, the Irish president, Michael Higgins, led tributes to the late cleric  “Fr Reid will perhaps best be remembered for the courageous part he played in identifying and nurturing the early seeds of an inclusive peace process…Fr Reid’s role as a channel for peace laid the ground for the achievement of the IRA ceasefire and created the political space for the multiparty talks that ultimately led to the Good Friday agreement.”

If there was a mention of Fr Reid  somewhere in the exhibition, I missed it.

Carved out of lived past the exhibition opens entrances to synchronised  resonance, that may impair spontaneous self-organisation of viewers own responses.  In that it is similar in theory to Zhdanov doctrine of social function of visual art and to the Situationists’ stubborn struggle to obtain “denouement”. This exhibition whispers and echoes  many other previous works of art, from Diego Rivera to Andy Warhol.

Images courtesy ArtisAnn Gallery who produced and curated the exhibition.

 

 

 

 

 

PXVIII,Platform Arts Members Show, 2018, 6-29 December 2018, Platform Gallery, Belfast

Installation view – from L: G Carson, Damian Magee

If you think that the installation looks like many other exhibitions in Europe over the last two decades,  you may be acutely aware of the spirit of the age,  borrowed from the German language as  Zeitgeist.  Philosophers associated with that idea include Herder and Spencer and Voltaire. It counters the Great Man theory popularized by Thomas Carlyle which sees history as the result of the actions of heroes and geniuses.

For compariosn I selected an image available online from the 2018 exhibition by two Slovak artists

 

Roman Ondak (b 1966) and Štefan Papčo (b 1983), from their exhibition titled Sky Gravity (19 Jan – 16 March, 2018, Zahorian and Van Espen Gallery Bratislava) Ondak called his  exhibition in  South London Gallery (2026/17)   “The Source of Art is in the Life of a People” – a claim easily adapted to Platform members, e.g. Aoife Earley: Street Series 1-3 (Digital photo on c-type photo paper), 2018 taken by iPhone7; “I enjoy the convenience and connectivity of my phone camera” (gallery handout) 

Earley also explores the chance mobile phone photography harvests while the photographer is mobile, i.e. driving or driven.  It may appear obvious for now and here. The implication is that the viewer’s mind drives the aesthetic experience.

Let me digress to test that.

In 1966, the philosopher Karl Popper conducted an informal experiment:  During a lecture at the University of Oxford, he turned to his audience and said: ‘My experiment consists of asking you to observe, here and now. I hope you are all cooperating and observing! However, I feel that at least some of you, instead of observing, will feel a strong urge to ask: “What do you want me to observe?”’

Then Popper delivered his insight into observation:

‘For what I am trying to illustrate is that, in order to observe, we must have in mind a definite question, which we might be able to decide by observation.’

The question for Earley appears to be the value and power of spontaneity. Of a flow which she arrests.

Andrew Glen(b1981) makes the “curious relationship between object, experience and artist”  into a locus that facilitates the choice of a found object.   Yes, it nods towards the Arte Povera, yet, it has an up-to-date root: Glen’s personal collection he started in 2015. On the far wall  the blue-green  Bute wool&found objects is a part of the ongoing series  ATOMICA.   

The cabinet and attached objects carry the title  “E. Gomme”, enigmatic for those of us who do not know the history of the G Plan furniture.  (https://www.gracesguide.co.uk/E._Gomme)

Andrew Glenn is recycling a useful object into a free art by canceling its usability, not miles away from Duchamp a century ago.

When a person visits an art exhibition they carry in their mind both “closed” and “open” questions.

Installation view: D Magee, G Carson, video Alex Brunt.

The closed questions are “a priori” thoughts, likely to be connected to their previous experiences with and memories of art. They refer to similarities and differences. The open ones are those formed by dynamics of curiosity and creativity of the viewer on one hand and the power of the work of art (the artist).

Hayley Gault

It is not a straightforward process –  ‘All observation must be for or against a point of view,’ is how Charles Darwin put it in 1861. Hayley Gault included two long paragraphs in the gallery handout to explain how her curatorial practice which focused on environment and landscape was supposed to champion “ the value of exchange and types of transparency”.  She printed a stack of sheets listing similarities between her father, a farmer, and herself: an artist, curator, activist, researcher, writer.  She named this installation Things me and my father have in common. 

H Gault

Its roots are in installation art, in conceptual art, in early modernism minus Dada,  in the art and language tradition of the 1950s. It also echoes, perhaps unwillingly, the not so glittering removal of specific talent as the indispensable protector of visibility. (I have in mind those periods when we see the hegemony of ideology). Her exhibit confirms Ondak’s statement that “The Source of Art is in the Life of a People”. That includes the visual artist’s ingenuity in crafting questions, expectations, hypotheses, and theories to make sense of their subject – visibly.

This exhibition strips the objects of flattering their makers’ importance.  Instead, it matters what is vitally located in each exhibit.

Christopher McCambridge revives the conviction of William Morris that so-called lesser arts are equal to the rest because they are life supporting. Except, he moves in the other direction – towards the removal of the original practical use see http://www.chrismccambridge.wordpress.com/

 

Alteration, 2018, found fabric, dress, embroidery thread, an embroidery ring

Hand stitching the fabric aims to remember the hand weaving of the cloth before it was more often machine – made.  Both processes (sewn by machine and by hand) are legibly there, so it is not a case of canceling one and replacing it. It is a method of a metamorphosis of one object becoming another. Remember Ovidius Naso? He seduced even  P Picasso to illustrate metamorphoses…

Here, it occurs by replacing the very value of use championed by W Morris.  Yet, McCambridge entertains a similar aim:  to make an object recognized as an aesthetic object by replacing the machine with a hand.

Something similar to a replacement appears on the surfaces of  Dreaddgerm, which Gerard Carson describes/defines as ” a manifestation of stratified oily techno objects, dredged from antediluvian sludge territories morphed into objects that speculate on the dark forces of techno-capitalist time”.  (Gallery handout)

Quite! I give up, but do not deny the link to the 1918 manifesto by Tristan Tzara quoted below.

To impose your ABC is a natural thing—
hence deplorable. Everybody does it in the form of crystalbluffmadonna, monetary system,
pharmaceutical product, or a bare leg advertising the ardent sterile spring. The love of
novelty is the cross of sympathy, demonstrates a naive je m’enfoutisme, it is a transitory,
positive sign without a cause.
But this need itself is obsolete.

(see http://writing.upenn.edu/library/Tzara_Dada-Manifesto_1918.pdf)

Gerard Carson may agree with some of Tzara nonsense as nonsense, but in visual terms, he is a dead serious player for tacit communication between optic, haptic, and illusionary.

Dreddgerm, 2018, wood, thermoplastic, epoxy resin, silicone, borax crystals, PVA glue, chain, spraypaint

Consider his Statement

Stretched like elastic, it’s untethered from hermetica, blooming from conjunctions.

A speculation on futures via a tenuous materiality that is constantly on the verge of dissipating.

(Re)Mixing  from the mutating jungle of matter, feeding through a viscous interstitial mesh.

(http://gerardcarson.tumblr.com/Statement)

I see the chain and I read a sculpture, a rough immobile silent sibling to the chatting mobiles by Alexander Calder.  Its prettiness gives way to terrorizing sadness of broken lives,  broken by those dark forces, he mentioned.  In between the cascading down and never reaching the ground, it seems to stutter J’accuse (thinking of Emile Zola). And then it wiggles out and pretends that nothing matters, whispering: I am a construct.

Rachael Campbell Palmer 

exhibits installation with sculpture and print. It may be thought of as three objects not connected, but the way they are placed is softly considered to signal togetherness.

She gives it all one title: “Untitled (Inventory), 2018 (polyester casting resin, concrete, plaster, digital print). Maybe she entertains the thought of a chain, and not just of grouping. After all -she prefers traditional techniques – a kind of a chain, a thread,  between now and before. In her statement on the gallery handout she singles out the connections to locations and memory and preference for multiples, both an association with time. The supreme chain.

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Her trees(or magnified weeds)  are like personages  – meeting in a meadow … I hesitate to rule out conflict, or an accident.

Moving away from the back wall, the visible space is dominated by Damian Magee. 

Theta Waves”,2018, Graphite on paper, brass eyelets, paracord

Its dorso is empty.

He suggests that it is a “depiction”  of Gigantomachy from the Pergamon Altar, based on a low resolution digital image.  (Gallery notes, image downloaded from Wikipedia))

It would appear that the drawing selects a perceived rhythm of the volumes as a wave of subjective attention.  Magee makes another claim for his drawing: ” This treatment of a fragment …seeks to explore the ways in which time has informed phenomenological shifts in the experience of cultural objects.”   As I understand it in relation to Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit published in 1807 and based on a precious philosophical intuition: consciousness is not a completed institution, it is constructed, transformed to become other than itself.  As if the selected wave is how the sculptural fragments appeared to Magee’s consciousness when he aimed to capture the essence of what he observed.  That subjectivity is one of many possible.

Iolanda Rocha  lets her subjectivity move on and on, claiming equivalence for each state of what she saw, recalled or imagined.  Those rich pickings are downsized by the summary title “Schema”. 

The seven small paintings/prints (cyanotype and gesso on wood (all 2018)  do not tell a story that has one beginning and one end.    Each stands confidently alone and together as if there were identity between the two states of being.

 

However the absence of nature – beyond signaling the atmosphere – become a significant sign of anthropocentrism and anthropomorphism.

 

Hannah Casey-Brogan aims at the intimacy of seeing, viewing, by altering the expected, normal,  when observing a small format image.  Her “Untitled” (oil on aluminium, 2018) does not fully escape into abstraction, allowing the red become an arch above a melee of either a very distanced crowd or some insect, or just a multitude of dark traces.

Another small-scale object is made with several materials: text, paper, vinyl, glass and frame. Jane Butler ‘s School of Thought #4,2017.

  

Reminiscent of the preoccupations by the Art and Language of 1967 -70  – it seems to be re-visiting the group’s early conceptual concerns as shown in the example below.

Map to Not Indicate 1967 Art & Language (Terry Atkinson; Michael Baldwin) born 1942, born 1945 Presented by the Institute of Contemporary Prints 1975 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/P01357
 Alex Brunt installed a digital video, 19 mins, 2018 titled  Spit and Honey,
both those materials descending onto a head of a willing person.
Reminiscent of cinema verite it exposes the visceral, the setup, the observed, fragmenting the whole, perhaps in a hope of lessening the chance of absence of any subversion of the intention, by sympathy or its opposite.
The exhibition felt like a sanctuary of vanishing ideals.  Subdued.
Images courtesy Platform, and Simon Mills.