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.

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).

Sydney Biennale - Final Notes

Yelena Vorobyeva and Viktor Vorobyev at Sydney College of the Arts

This installation consisted of a series of photos and objects from Kazakstan in the 1990s. Each photo was a snippet from the bazaars where people (mainly pensioners) would sell things from their homes in order to survive. The motley collections of household contents are shown with a quote from the sellers and a item from each that the artists purchased. The small collections speak eloquently of poverty amongst the elderly and the struggle to survive hard times. The goods are spread out on bits of cardboard and cloth, in some cases over the snow-covered ground. Some of the objects were the sort of things that would be considered worthless in more affluent countries - such as old bras, random bits of crockery and used stuffed toys. Items from the Soviet era are intermingled with cheap Chinese goods in a sort of historical pastiche of changing political and economic systems washing over the area. One struck me in particular - a selection of teeth from various animals, which the seller recommends setting into one's jaw if they match: do-it-yourself false teeth for those without access to dentists. A sobering exhibit that brings into sharp relief the comparative affluence and comfortable circumstances of it's intended audiences.

(Apologies for the poor photos, have had to resort to using phone camera for now due to laptop problems)

John Reynolds at the Art Gallery of New South Wales

My final comment on the Sydney Biennale is reserved for New Zealander John Reynolds 'Cloud', installed at the Art Gallery of New South Wales. The quirky 'New Zealandisms' that make up the work are taken from Harry Orsman's Dictionary of New Zealand English. The words are drawn in silver on a large number of small white canvases spread across the walls of the main foyer of the gallery - a long white 'cloud' of little canvases and words. Being a New Zealander it was a gentle and whimsical reminder of home. I wondered what people unfamiliar with the terms would make of it. The happy convergence of art and language makes for an interesting installation.

The Sydney Biennale has been an interesting and diverse exploration of unfamiliar and familiar artists. I have only managed to catch a small cross-section of the many works on offer, but I am already looking forward to experiencing it again in the future.

Sydney Biennale at Artspace, Woolloomooloo

On Sunday I took a little time out from the extraordinary sunshine outside to have a look at what the Sydney Biennale had brought to Artspace in Woolloomooloo.

Tokyo artist Unjino Muneteru takes ordinary objects such as a hairdryer, juicers, an old wooden-housed radio, lamps and even a 1984 Ford Falcon and hooks them up to turntables to create music. The piece is entitled 'The Rotators." According to the little brochure accompanying the Biennale, "The work is based on the fact that most electronically-controlled products function/operate through rotation." (p.25) The turntables in this installation were playing records incised with pencil ends, which in turn triggered various other sound and lighting effects amongst the objects. The whole effect is a bit like what you would imagine might happen if the ordinary household objects that surround us came alive when we weren't around. A bit like an artist's Toy Story. It is a slightly surreal installation - the 'music' a vaguely hypnotic collection of simple rhythms and sounds. My companion noted the parallel with other works in the same vein - such as the group "From Scratch" which also used everyday and unlikely things (including natural materials) to create unusual sound performances. (see http://www.sonicsfromscratch.co.nz/fromscratch.php) Music and sound intersecting with 'trash art' or art that incorporates found objects is alive and well it seems in the work of Unjino.

There are a couple of quirky pieces by Jose Damasceno on display which also incorporate found objects, and a series of photographs from France by Finnish artist Elina Brotherus.

The video work of Tacita Dean is a little less fathomable and accessible to the audience. Tacita Dean's video piece prompted frustration from a viewer nearby who exclaimed, "if they could just provide some explanations!" Encountering a work such as this for the first time without any idea as to the background of the artist and their intentions in creating the work is somewhat bewildering. One has to ask the question - if the work fails to communicate something to viewers without an explanation handy then is it failing on a fundamental level? Video and performance art in particular often suffers from this lack of engagement and ability to communicate with a wider audience.

Here is what the Artspace website had to say about the work by Tacita Dean:

"British-born, Germany-based artist Tacita Dean will exhibit her moving film Boots, 2003. Boots is filmed in the Casa de Serralves, Porto, Portugal. Dean asked a family friend, the architect Robert Steane, affectionately known as ‘Boots’, to wander through the rooms of the Casa. The film is made in three versions of 20 minutes duration in English, French and German. Exhibited separately, each version shows ‘Boots’ entering a different façade and, as if inhabited by the memory of the space, speaks to the passing of human lives and the aspirations they embodied".

Well I think I will leave the explanation at that juncture and perhaps go delving into the problems of performance and video art in more detail on less sunny day!

Picasso - Love and War 1935-1945

Currently on show at the National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne.

I was fortunate enough to catch this hefty and interesting exhibition whilst in Melbourne recently. It features works by Picasso and his lover of ten years, surrealist photographer Dora Maar. Their relationship spawned a mass of works on both sides. Dora Maar's features inspired some of the best known Picasso works including the National Gallery of Victoria's "Weeping Woman."

The exhibition as a whole left me with a lasting impression of confidence and surety. There is a power to these artworks which is undiminished by time or by imitation. The range of media employed is quite expansive and both artists are were clearly unafraid to experiment with new techniques. Of particular interest to me were the series of photographs by Dora Maar showing the progress of Guernica as Picasso painted it. One is privy to changes and alterations in the structure of the composition, a process usually denied to the viewer. There are also some unusual works in which Picasso portrays himself as a Minotaur and Dora in various guises, including a winged sphinx. One gets a sense of an intense, emotional and intellectual love affair between two very complicated and unusual artists.

Also compelling are the works created during the war period. Sombre greys, browns and black tones predominate. A bronze skull and still-life pieces reek of foreboding. The love celebrated in the earlier works seems to crumble into despair and neglect. According to the exhibition information, after the relationship ended Dora became a recluse in her Paris apartment with the relics of her past. It is these records and objects which comprise much of this show. It seems a sad and lonely end to what was an inspiring and productive love affair.

"Every act of creation is first an act of destruction" - Picasso

Sydney Biennale 2006

The Sydney Biennale is a veritable feast of artworks dotted around various Sydney venues. Some of the artists are relatively obscure, but there are a few more well-known names to help prevent one feeling completely ignorant. I have sampled a few over the past three weeks. The standout exhibit surely has to be Antony Gormley's 'Asian Field' 2003 which can be found at Pier 2/3, Walsh Bay. Occupying the upper level, a vast horde of small clay figurines gazes at the viewer. This field of figures is contained by a wall across the space which both contains and concentrates the effect of the mass upon the viewer. One does not have access into the field - in fact as is often the case an alarm sounds if one gets too close. The field is impressive and compelling, a sea of faces staring back at the viewer. The features are simplified but each is slightly different. Unusually, in the space next to this horde is a series of photographic portraits of the people who made this population - the inhabitants of XianXian Village, Guangzhou, China. Alongside each portrait are photographs of the figures they have made, each with their own quirks and interpretation of the basic structure. In a wry touch Gormley has added his own photo amongst this series.

Also at the pier is Adrian Paci's 'Noise of Light,' (2006) a huge chandelier powered by diesel generators. The quantity of electricity to supply this chandelier is not insignificant as the generators attest. The allusion to wasteful, opulent lifestyles is clear. Ironically the chandelier is so beautiful and incongruent in it's setting that one can't help feeling that the excessive consumption is somehow worth it for the aesthetic effect alone.

Another work that stood out is "Please do not step" by Hamra Abbas, in which artistic traditions of Christianity and Islam converge in the form of delicately painted panels with gothic style lettering and references to modern day religious politics. The work occupies a space in which the words "Please do not step" form a floor pattern in traditional Islamic style overlaid with glass.

I will return to the Biennale in another post to discuss John Reynold's "Cloud" at the Art Gallery of New South Wales and Sharon Lockhart's photographs at the Australian Centre for Photography.

Welcome to Arcadia

Welcome to Arcadia, a space for my fine art commentary on the local art scene in New Zealand, Australia and beyond. I am an artist from New Zealand currently living in Auckland. Some of my works can be viewed online at www.celeste.nz

Arcadia: A region of ancient Greece in the Peloponnesus. Its inhabitants, relatively isolated from the rest of the known civilized world, proverbially lived a simple, pastoral life.

A few years ago I exhibited some paintings under the title "Arcadia." They were large abstracts of different hues with fine lines of metallic leaf embedded, forming vague structures and connections. I wanted to evoke a sense of another realm, an "Arcadian" space. It also seemed appropriate to reference ancient Greece given the influence of classicism in various forms throughout art history.

In this realm, the blog which only exists in cyberspace, like the Aracadia of the imagination, the focus is simple - art in it's many and varied forms.