Saturday, November 25, 2006

Brett Whiteley Studio, Surry Hills, Sydney


(An entirely subjective review)

The use of the artist's studio as an exhibition space and museum devoted to their life and work is an interesting development in the modern gallery system. I first encountered this in Dublin where Francis Bacon's studio has been recreated piece by piece in all it's messy overwhelming detail. His claustrophobic studio is like a complete archeological dig of his life and paintings. There is something quite odd about the idea of it being packed up and shipped to Dublin and them reassembled piece by piece. The rather good DVD playing in the Brett Whitely studio showed him painting two portraits of Francis Bacon. In contrast to Francis Bacon's studio Brett Whiteley's Surry Hills studio is spacious and represents for me something close to an ideal creative space with large ceilings and plenty of room to both create and exhibit works. (one day maybe... sigh)

I find these sorts of spaces quite fascinating, offering perhaps a slightly voyeuristic look in an artist's life. Of particular interest to me were the artist's sketchbooks which have been photocopied and are available for perusal. Sometimes these can be quite personal, I couldn't help thinking about what I write and draw in my own sketchbooks and wondered how I would feel about having them available for public display - sometimes they are part diary and I had the uncomfortable notion that I'd prefer them to remain private. (Still - am not a famous controversial artist so the danger of this scenario is very unlikely and distant). Brett Whiteley's sketchbooks were full of portraits and landscapes, and the occasional female nude polaroid. The portraits are fantastic. I found the drawings of landscapes and portraits the most appealing parts of his work.

The influence of Zen brush painting was prevalent in his works. I recently visited an excellent exhibition of Zen painting at the Art Gallery of New South Wales which coincided nicely with previous investigations into Zen whilst in Auckland. Other engagement with painting tradition such as the influence of Surrealism, Expressionism and echoes of Matisse were also evident throughout Brett Whiteley's work. Some of the collage elements appealed, but I did not find all were equally successful. In some cases the quality of the materials seemed to let down the works a bit and the house paints I spotted lurking in his studio area did not help allay this impression. I'm a bit of a stickler for using quality materials and pigment-starved paints that peel off over time do not appeal.

I was happy to see a pile of National Geographic magazines being somewhat partial to them myself as a source of information and inspiration. Local birds and landscapes recur frequently in his work, these lyrical and visions contrast with some of the more disturbed, addiction influenced paintings. Upstairs a bronze pelican caught my eye but in general I found the drawings and paintings more compelling than the sculptures dotted around the studio space. I also particularly liked the story of coming across a book of Van Gogh's work at the age of 13 and how it completely changed his way of seeing. A visit to the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam is a personal highlight for me so couldn't help but be impressed by the centrality of this artist to his practice. Finally, the quotes written on the wall upstairs are great. Some examples:

Morality=Tumor

Anything becomes interesting if you look at it long enough - Flaubert

Oysters Think

Painting is an argument between what it looks like and what it means

Looking at art

"By their very nature, most galleries do nothing to encourage intimate encounters with the art they show. They are interested in getting as many people as possible through the front door, not in fostering contemplation of the art. Even the most visitor-friendly tend to be cold and unwelcoming, designed to impress rather than reassure. If seating is provided, it will be the sort that says: 'You may perch here for a moment or two, but don't make yourself comfortable'.

From "What's wrong with contemporary art?' by Peter Timms, p.109

I once sat for quite a long time in a recent Giacometti exhibition watching the people looking at the sculptures, listening half-heartedly to the guided tour that came by me, and in the quieter moments just looking around me at the sculptures which at times seemed to me to resemble shadows. Peter Timm's comments remind me of how easy it is to have a very superficial experience of art within gallery environments, as we struggle through crowds at popular exhibitions and try to ignore tired feet.

Living very close to the Art Gallery of New South Wales I find myself being able to return to favourite works more easily and frequently than would otherwise be the case, and subsequently I have noticed an interesting shift in the way I am experiencing those works. In a culture where we are encouraged towards fast-paced, somewhat superficial mass consumption, it is a refreshing change to pause and absorb complex works of art over a longer period of time, without recourse to theory or discourse, but simply to look and experience the pleasure that this type of discovery brings.

Monday, November 13, 2006

Eyes, Lies and Illusions



Eyes, Lies and Illusions

2 November 2006 - 11 February 2007
acmi (australian centre for the moving image)
Melbourne

A fantastic illustration for this exhibition enticed me to take a look inside whilst in Melbourne recently. So I wandered in on a Sunday morning only to be informed that the exhibition had a delayed opening time because the cleaners had accidently cleaned up a pile of rubbish in a corner which was in fact part of one of the exhibits. I'm sure I have heard of similar mishaps befalling other exhibits of modern art. Fortunately the rubbish was replaced with another equally suitable pile of rubbish and so the crisis averted. So it was with this reminder of the precarious nature of modern art's status as art and not rubbish that I approached the show.

According to the flyer provided the exhibition 'explores the art and science of visual perception from the Renaissance to the present day,' a promise which it did not disappoint. A wide variety of objects from shadow puppets to the photographs of Muybridge provided an excellent overview of the pre-history of modern cinema. I also attended a magic lantern show by Dr Ian Edwards which was a reminder of simpler times with it's straightforward visual humour and 'special effects' created by using two glass slides.

Of particular interest to me was a Camera Lucida, used by artists to draw objects in perspective, and a beautiful object called a Heliopyrograph, a glass ball which burns a trace onto paper to measure the intensity of sunlight.

Other treats included dioramas and perspective boxes, some of which were very intricate, and pictures inscribed with holes and with translucent areas lit from behind. Although very simple these were surprisingly effective and quite magical. Toys of sedition from France were another favourite - objects which cast shadows revealing profiles of prominent political figures of the day, signaling one's allegiances.

The collection also included Duchamp's Rotoreliefs and a selection of more recent works, such as Christian Boltanski's Les Bourgies (The Candles) 1986, fragile skeletal copper figurines casting equally fragile wavering shadows.

An unusual and rewarding exhibition, drawn from a collection accumulated by German experimental filmmaker Werner Nekes, it would be very appealing to anyone with an interest in perception.
(Note: imagery is copyright Werner Nekes).