A Turkish Gallery experience?

I’ve just returned from a 3 week conference/ art research trip to Turkey, a country of ancient ruins, enthusiastic touts, lots of eggplant and meat, amazing fresh fruit and vegies, and a very cool city: Istanbul.  I travelled around with two other girls in a hire car for two weeks before hiring an apartment in Istanbul for a week near the ever-awake Taksim Square.  The conference I attended (and presented at) on the last five days was the International Conference on the Inclusive Museum, which was a topical end to my visit as I was quite unhappy with the (lack of) educational and money-grabbing approach of most of Turkey’s museums (more on that in a future post)

 The curious Seraphim figure with an 'uncovered' face, Aya Sofya, Istanbul

From my extensive prior research and experience, the contemporary art (in a Western Art sense) in Turkey seems confined to Istanbul, and to a lesser extent, Ankara.  It appeared strange to me coming from a country such as Australia, where every town above, approximately 3000 people, seems to have a contemporary art gallery (of varying quality and criticality, mind you).

Ankara’s Cer Modern was our first contemporary art gallery stop after two weeks of ancient ruins, traditional arts and crafts, Ottoman architecture and grimy interiors.  I was shocked at the relief and the ‘I’m home’ familiar feeling I experienced when entering the building, which could easily be an art institution anywhere in the world.  I truly understood what O’Doherty meant by his description of the modern ‘white cube’ art gallery:

A gallery is constructed along laws as rigorous as those for building a medieval church.  The outside world must not come in, so windows are usually sealed off.  Walls are painted white.  The ceiling becomes the source of light.  The wooden floor is polished so that you click along clinically, or carpeted so that you pad soundlessly, resting the feet while the eyes have at the wall.  The art is free, as the saying used to go, “to take on its own life.”(Inside the White Cube: The ideology of the Gallery Space, p.15)

 Entrance Couryard, Cer Modern, Ankara

True, the gallery was showcasing the art of a Turkish art collector, the majority of it by Turkish artists, but it still could have been a travelling show anywhere in the world.  The gallery shop displayed the ubiquitous acrylic laser-cut ‘birds on a wire’ brooches and branded pencils, the floors were polished concrete, the bathrooms sported the latest shiny European taps, and the building embraced the popular museum ‘rust fetish’ aesthetic by showing the old train tracks beneath an acrylic section of the floor, revealing the structure’s previous use as a train shed.  Perhaps the most ‘Turkish’ part of the gallery was its café.  I ordered a hamburger, and it came deliciously spiced like the kofta (meatballs) we’d eaten for the previous two weeks. 
  

Gallery Cafe, Cer Modern

The exhibition in the Cer Modern was interesting, even if painting dominated the exhibition  (there was only one new media work and only a handful of sculptures and photographs).  The premise of +Infinity: A selection from the Ebru Özdemir Collection, was, as the title suggests, a particular art collector’s collection.  However, the short blurb on the exhibition went a bit further and suggests that we can ‘read the history of art’ through the collections of people like Ebru Özdemir.  I thought the blurb, which you can read here, was interesting because in many art schools, the art market is often ignored or underplayed when teaching art history and/or theory, despite its significant role in shaping, or to a lesser extent (in my opinion), reflecting art history.

There were a lot of fairly banal works, but the ones that grabbed my attention were the surreal landscapes by painter Alaettin Aksoy, the tracing paper collage by Elvan Alpay, and the humorous Please Clear the Dance Floor by Gözde Iklin, which seemingly depicted the wedding from hell mixed in with some Devil Facial Tumour-esque forms.  I also enjoyed Inci Eviner’s Leg Animal, where the artist had created a half-man half-squirrel type creature by dripping paint on unstretched canvas, a figure that appealed particularly as one of our many car games - ‘hypotheticals’ - involved a similar proposal: ‘would you rather have a squirrel for a foot, or a shark for a hand?’  The digital photographs by Kezban Arca Batibeki, collectively titled the Burnt Palaces Series (2006), depicted ruined interiors, ironically framed in ornate gilt frames.  At the same time, the value adding effect of the frames was somewhat undermined by the ‘sameness’ of the frames – all of them the same size and dimensions – and the cluster-style hanging.

The show was an interesting introduction to a wide range of Modern and contemporary Turkish artists, some of which I recognised in our later visit to the Istanbul Modern.  As this post is blowing out, I’ll write about the galleries of Istanbul in my next post.

The Cer Modern can be found at Altinsoy Caddesi No.3, Sihhiye, Ankara. +Infinity: A selection from the Ebru Özdemir Collection  is on from the 2 April to the 5 July 2010

get Online at the Plimsoll Gallery

The third in the ‘on a…’ series, is showing at the Plimsoll Gallery.  Online follows the inaugural Onaroll, and last year’s Onalog, with all the exhibitions based on a particular material – fishing line, toilet paper, and logs, respectively.  The series, curated by John Vella, seems to be maturing somewhat, both in terms of a move away from what I saw as toilet humour, and in relation to the use of materials.  While the toilet paper and logs were used in a quite literal, descriptive manner; in Online, the works have somewhat transcended the material.  The standout work is Anne Mestitz’ intensely coloured installation, where she’s stretched a concentrated mass of polychromed fishing line between the ceiling and floor in the middle of her ‘booth’.  I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult that work would be to install.

Anne Mestitz, All that I am.  Courtesy of the artist.

I should disclose that I’m a committee member of the Plimsoll Gallery, and this is not intended to be an independent review of the exhibition.  I just believe that Online is the best in the series so far, and I hope that people will make the effort to go and see the exhibition.

Online showcases the work of Di Allison, Lynne Eastaway, Lou Hubbard, Anne Mestitz, and Terroir. Curated by John Vella.  Catch the exhibition at the Plimsoll Gallery, Centre for the Arts, Hunter St, Hobart.  Friday 21 May 2010 -  Friday 18 June 2010.  You can also join the Plimsoll Gallery Facebook group for ongoing exhibition updates.

The 2010 Biennale of Sydney: precarious beauty

It’s upon us again: [drum roll…] “The 17^th Biennale of Sydney: The Beauty of Distance, Songs of Survival in a Precarious Age.”  Does it promise to be bigger and better?  No, thank goodness.  However, the Biennale PR team are out with their twitter feeds, Facebook fan pages and other social media platforms still drumming up the hype; and the theme is definitely dramatic enough (‘survival in a precarious age.’).

To be honest, I love large exhibitions.  Until last year, when I was lucky enough to be given a grant to visit the Venice Biennale, I’d really only been to the relatively largish Australian Perspecta (which is unfortunately not running anymore), Asia Pacific Triennial and the Sydney Biennale; however I’ve always been aware of the special art exhibiting conditions created by these major projects.  It’s become obvious to me over the last couple of years, researching site-specific art in Australia’s Public Museums, that the availability of unusual sites even within regular exhibiting spaces (and subsequent funding and media coverage of the included works) is in fact widened during these events.  By ‘unusual sites’, I don’t just mean the highly spruiked Cockatoo Island – I’m also thinking of interventions into the Art Gallery of New South Wales’ entrance vestibule, for instance.  There was no vestibule-responsive work in this year’s Biennale, however, Cockatoo Island was well-populated with both site-specific and site-oblivious works, as well as a few special Biennale sites: Pier 2/3, the Botanic Gardens and the Opera House.

I was lucky enough to be invited to the vernissage (maybe it’s just the Aussie cultural cringe, but I wonder why they can’t just call it a preview?), and took advantage of the low crowds to ferry across to Cockatoo Island.  After the last Biennale [link to 2008 Biennale Catalogue on Amazon], I was eager to see the extent of the site-responsive work.  Two years ago, I wrote on this blog about the way in which the Biennale catalogue boasted of the 'over thirty' site-specific artworks, yet in reality only about seven works had a meaningful relationship with the site.

Again, I was disappointed.  I don’t understand how artists can be given such amazing spaces and then rather than make work in dialogue with the site, they make work that competes with the surrounding space, making the rusted sinks, archaic machinery, painted symbols, drawers, signs and cranes look decidedly more interesting in comparison.  A few works, such as the Mieskuoro Huutajat (Shouting Men’s Choir) video installation were subtly onto it (see left).  Roger Ballen’s eerie photographs also sat well within the crumbling building on the top of the island.  As a testament to the strength of a few of the works from the last Biennale, the spectre of Mike Parr’s installation MIRROR/ARSE still lingered as we passed the (this year unused) ex-Navy building, as did TV Moore’s work in the Dogleg Tunnel.  
 

Roger Ballen, Cockatoo Island

 Part of Aleks Danko's SOME CULTURAL MEDITATIONS, Cockatoo Island

Also on Cockatoo Island, was one of my favourite works from last year’s Venice Biennale, The Feast of Trimalchio by the Russian collective AES+F.  The massive work in projected onto three large screens which surround the viewer.  To a dramatic soundtrack, scenes of the ultimate holiday resort (a small tropical island with a ski resort at its peak), where guests are overly pampered to a creepy degree and stereotypes are threatened.

Serge Spitzer, Molecular (SYDNEY), the guard house, Cockatoo Island

We had a bit of a regressive bounce on the jumping castle, an artwork by Brook Andrew.  It was only later, when I read the artist statement for Jumping Castle War Memorial in the free booklet, that I realised that the meaning of the work was far removed from what I’d imagined jumping up and down on the pattered blow-up.

Cai Guo Qiang’s Inopportune: Stage One, which seems to be the showcase work for this year’s Biennale, wasn’t working (left).  Disappointed, I went next door and took a photo of the performance art next door, but they told me to go away.  Apparently, they were not actors hired to drink coffee, smoke and handle drills for 2 months; rather, the work was still being set up and the ‘actors’ were in fact installers.  This awkward moment was to be repeated throughout the day’s visit: we’d walk into rooms and there’d be a couple of people hanging from the ceiling, sweating, swearing and telling us that the projector wasn’t working but ‘come back tomorrow’. 

The following evening I visited the Art Gallery of New South Wales, where they were hosting artist talks.  I’m a massive proponent of the gallery’s after hours program, which occurs every Wednesday, and features things like artist talks, films and live music.  I dutifully trotted down to the Archibald, Wynne and Sulman prizes and paid to see some of the most underwhelming art I’ve seen in a long time.  The Biennale art at the AGNSW was not that much more engrossing unfortunately.  I headed to Chinatown instead.
 

My Friday afternoon involved traipsing thought the Botanical Gardens in search of the elusive Fiona Hall, Janet Lawrence and Choi Jeong Hwa works.  Fiona Hall’s Barbarians at the Gate was similar to the Breeding Ground, exhibited in the Port Arthur Project in 2007.  Hall’s usual themes of trade, colonialism and botany are well-suited to the gardens, yet the actual site chosen within the gardens was a little strange.  Painted army figures hung from the tree above a number of architectural beehives, painted with camouflage patterns.  

 Janet Lawrence, WAITING -A Medicinal Garden for Ailing Plants (detail)

Janet Lawrence’s work was equally as detailed, and while the tent structure that encloses the work initially struck me as quite strange and somewhat detracting, it did give the whole work the feel of a temporary pseudo-scientific experiment.  Choi’s giant inflatable lotus seemed to breathe, inflating and deflating every few minutes.  It was sweet but not all that poignant.  Finding the works in the bot gardens is almost as enjoyable as seeing them, as the Sydney botanical gardens are amazing, with views across the harbour and hundreds of bats hanging like small parcels from the trees.

 ....and deflated. Choi Jeon Hwa, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

As the sun went down, I made like a merdog to the opera house, where a second work by Choi is nestled between the ‘sails’ of the building (left).  I lingered until Jennifer Wen Ma’s performance New Adventures of Havoc in Heaven III started on the Opera House steps after sunset.  Shadows were projected onto smoke, an elusive substance which preferred to be bossed around by the wind rather than the twirling dancer distributing the smoke below.  To be honest though, I’m not sure that the performance would be as exciting if we could see the projection most of the time.  Those occasional glimpses gave it meaning.

The best of the Biennale was saved until last.  The MCA’s four floors have been turned over to the Biennale director yet again, and they contain a number of excellent works, including a collection of the Chapman brothers’ cardboard sculptures, subtly titled Shitrospective.  Despite their rawness, the figures created out of the seemingly rough and haphazard shaping and painting of recycled cardboard, are surprisingly animated.  You can’t help but feel for the figures in wheelchairs, eyes bulging; and the cardboard miniature version of their The Chapman Family Collection work was very clever (Hint: walk around the plinths, otherwise you’ll miss the person peeing on a dinosaur’s leg).

I’m withholding final judgement on the Biennale before I see the works at the top of Cockatoo Island and Artspace in July.  However, I have a few issues with the exhibition.  While I enjoyed a number of the individual works in the Biennale, I’ve really struggled to see the thematic link between them all.  Secondly, I believe that, like the previous Biennale, the really loaded sites such as Cockatoo Island, the Botanical Gardens and Pier 2/3 are not being used to their full potential, although maybe that’s not unexpected for someone with an interest in site-specific art.

 Building interior, Cockatoo Island

The 6th Asia-Pacific Triennial, Brisbane

I finally made it up to the Asia-Pacific Triennial in Brisbane.  It was my second Triennial, and I wouldn’t have made the effort ($400 flights return from Hobart just for a weekend) if I hadn’t enjoyed the previous Triennial in 2006-07 so much.  Granted, my 2006 visit immediately followed the most banal and disappointing Sydney Biennale of all time, but it wasn’t just the comparison that made the APT so great. 

This year’s APT was not quite as engaging as the previous one, but it was still an excellent exhibition.  I was excited to see that the water mall in the Queensland Art Gallery (yes, a massive pond in a building that requires strict climate and humidity controls) held another site-specific artwork by Ayaz Jokhio, and consisted of a six-meter tall octagonal room in the middle of the water, with a ‘bridge’ which allowed viewers to enter the work.  Described as ‘conceptual architecture’ on the curator’s podcast (which you could easily transfer onto your iPod or iPhone using the gallery’s wireless network), the work referenced Islam and traditional Eastern design and architectural form.  The structure sat easily in the space, and like the other site-specific works produced previously for this space, the pond acted both as an inspiration as well as a ‘frame’ around the contemplative work.

Also in the older Queensland Art Gallery was a massive pile of recycled materials - fabric, plastic bottles, egg cartons, paper, paddle pop sticks and thread – and an open invitation to build aeroplanes that would then be hung from the gallery ceiling.  The project was called In Flight, and was by artists Alfredo and Isabel Aquilizan who moved to Australia from the Philippines in 2006.  Judging from the hundreds already suspended above me, I felt a wee bit intimidated, yet I pulled up a kid’s size stool and got to work.  The result was a bit wonky; yet, it was great to make something, channel all that creative energy in me, after viewing two galleries filled with inspirational art.

 my rather wonky contribution

Most of the APT is held in the newer Gallery of Modern Art (GOMA) which is only a few hundred meters from the Queensland Art Gallery.  Unfortunately, in the three years since my last visit the coffee shop below the state library that separates the two galleries has turned into a coffee-molesting, self-serve kids-fest so it made the walk between the two galleries quite a bit quicker (I managed to find a good coffee in the not-so-nearby Barracks complex off Petrie terrace, however).  The cavernous spaces of GOMA were utilised by Wit Pimkanchanapong with his descriptively titled Cloud, made up of pieces of paper strung to long cords with paperclips.  The cords were strung across the length of the entrance hallway above the heads of visitors as they walked into the building.  It was an effective, albeit underwhelming work.

Cloud - as viewed from the 2nd floor

This year’s promotional artwork – Zhu Weibing and Ji Wenyu’s People Holding Flowers - was surprisingly small (in fact I was amazed at how familiar the image of the work was – the APT certainly advertises well).  From the various magazine and billboard advertisements, I thought the tiny, besuited, pink-faced men holding similarly coloured lotus leaves were life-size, yet they didn’t reach my knee.  In a way, it was kind of disappointing.

One of my favourite works (and apparently amongst my friends I’m alone in this affection) was the kitsch work by Indian artists: Jiten Thukral and Sumir Tagra.  They had mocked up a gaudy living room with pigeon wallpaper, mirrors, photographs, and a tipping table.  I wasn’t really convinced by the table and thought it detracted from the carefully staged scene, yet I enjoyed the atmosphere of the installation and the meticulous details.

Opposite was another ‘poster child’ of the APT – Kohei Nawa’s PixCell-Elk#2 (2009).  The taxidermied stag looked like it had a bejewelled version of the poor Tasmanian Devils’ facial tumour disease.  Various sized glass balls were glued to the stuffed animal, the balls magnifying, distorting and mirroring each other, the viewers, and the stag underneath.  The work’s aura was no doubt assisted by its location in a glowing white cube, but it was an overwhelming and enjoyable work, and one that was very popular with fellow visitors.

Another favourite was one of Tracey Moffatt’s videos.  I’ve seen other videos in this series (I think at the previous Sydney Biennale?) and they never fail to entertain me.  This particular video was called OTHER and explored themes of ‘other-ness’ and the exotic in popular culture through short clips of popular movies.  As works that critique social prejudices and assumptions, I believe they’re very successful because of the combination of humour, references to popular culture and distanced commentary.

A surprise inclusion was the revolutionary art, or chosunhua, from North Korea.  I quite enjoyed it, although a friend of mine was mildly furious about the appropriateness of having such ‘uncritical’ art in a contemporary art exhibition.  While much of the art in this year’s APT was conceptually rigorous, I don’t know if I could single out the work from North Korea as being the most shallow or lacking in criticality (I’m thinking that award goes to the one-liner works by Rudi Mantofani).  From a social and cultural point of view, I thought it was a nice comparison to the work from China - a country that not long ago churned out similar revolutionary art.

 Revolutionary Mosaic

The education and children’s programs associated with the APT are really amazing.  I didn’t have the excuse of an accompanying child, but like in the previous APT this mere detail didn’t stop me from sitting down at the low tables in the ‘kid’s APT’ area and making a thaumatrope – participating artist Runa Islam’s kid’s APT project.  The podcast mentioned earlier, was an informal and illuminating discussion between the exhibition’s organisers and a nice addition to the unusually well written didactic wall texts.  Unfortunately, I missed the APT films that were screening over the weekend of my visit.  Regardless, I still spent my two days in Brisbane totally absorbed by the APT.

The 6th Asia-Pacific Triennial runs from the 5^th December 2009 – 5^th April 2010 at the Queensland Art Gallery and the Gallery of Modern Art, Brisbane.

Melbourne is alive with Mimesis

I headed to Melbourne last weekend for a day and a half of coffee, beer, Chinese duck (please please someone open a decent Chinese duck-selling restaurant in Hobart), and most importantly Art Galleries.  Unfortunately it wasn’t a great season for ARIs, as many of them shut up shop over January, however I saw the both the International and Australian NGVs (National Gallery of Victoria), and a substantial amount of street art.

The two big ticket items in Melbourne currently are Ricky Swallow’s The Bricoleur, and Ron Mueck’s (self titled?) exhibition at the Ian Potter Centre: NGV Australia, and the NGV International respectively.  You’d have to be blind to miss the similarities between the two artists’ work.  Both are masters in creating the ‘wow factor’, they play with illusion, make self-contained sculptures, and take mimesis to the most extreme level of anal-retentiveness.  They’re also often criticised as being popularist for these reasons.  In both exhibitions, viewers can be seen clustering around the often plinth-dependent works, saying things like ‘wow, it looks so real’, ‘this would take so long’, ‘did he do all this by hand?’, or ‘this is so cool, man’ (guess the demographic of that last comment…).  

 

Ron Mueck at the NGV

They’re right.  The work is ‘cool’, and part of the works’ attraction is imagining the painstaking labour that goes into handcrafting these objects.  Critics do not necessarily see this ‘wow factor’ as a positive thing, however.  For instance, I remember reading a particularly savage Art Monthly Australia article written by Adam Geczy a few years ago called ‘Neo-medievalism’ (2005) where he argues that Swallow’s carved sculptures are ‘a petit-bourgeois art’ and a ‘lapse into a retrograde medievalism’ and concludes that the popularity of Swallow’s artwork is simply the fault of ‘nostalgia’.  Even Sebastian Smee’s more favourable review in The Australian (16 Dec 2006), warns that ‘Swallow’s dedication to the craft of woodcarving is self-conscious, even self-congratulatory.’ 

While not all of Swallow’s work is carved from wood (he’s now moved on to the equally as traditional bronze casting), the majority of the works in the show are carved from wood, and many of them I’d seen before.  There was the life-sized table covered in sea creatures, called Killing Time, which I overhead a gallery tour guide boasting to an awed crowd: ‘…and it was carved from a single piece of wood’ [I thought it was two, but no matter].  On the adjacent wall hung the other very familiar sculptural still life: Salad Days. 

I’d not seen The Bricoleur (2006) before, which depicts a single Converse sneaker wedged in a tree branch, carved from a single piece of Jelutong.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t get past the frustrating futility of carving a block of wood to look like a tree branch (‘self-congratulatory’ indeed).

Once you get past the wow factor, however, Swallow’s works are really very clever.  The title Killing Time, for instance refers to his experiences fishing, the notion of the still life, as well as the labour invested in creating the piece; and so the labour and the craft is not just incidental, but rather it contributes to the overall meaning of the work.

My favourite pieces were not actually the ones that Swallow had handcarved at all, but rather the bronze casts of decaying cardboard, which were akin to minimalist paintings along one wall.  As a group, the works were called Bowmen’s Record, and individually These Days Aren’t Different Enough, numbers 1-4.  Like his carved wood objects, the works still utilised a traditional sculptural medium – cast bronze – and yet this time Swallow had no hand in their production [no pun intended].  I’m still undecided as to whether it would make much of a difference if the artist handcast these works himself.

If anything, I actually enjoyed Ron Mueck’s work a bit more.  While Mueck’s works had the same annoyingly distracting ‘wow factor’, they really revelled in the theatricality, whereas the spotlighting and similarly sparse set up of Swallow’s exhibition just seemed a little tacky.

For those not in the know, Mueck has a background in designing creatures for movies and television (most notably the cult Labyrinth) and so perhaps it’s not surprising that there is an element of theatricality in his works.  What interested me at the NGV was the lack of any set or context surrounding his stubbornly independent photorealistic sculptures.  With the exception of three works (one of which was hung on a blue painted wall), most were presented on plinths set away from the high white walls, and I’m guessing the aim was to create a ‘neutral’ background.  This attempt to erase all context made the strange human figures with their distorted scales (a massive new born baby, a tiny Dead Dad or Sleeping Old Woman in Bed), seem even more surreal.

 

Sleeping Old Woman in Bed

Before I end this massive post, I also want to quickly mention the Clemenger Contemporary Art Award on now at the NGV Australia (outside the Swallow show), as I actually preferred this free exhibition to both the (expensive) Swallow and Mueck shows.  The exhibition includes fantastic works by Julie Gogh, a bizarre car and trailer set by Domenico de Clario, a painting/installation by Guan Wei, a disconcerting multi-media/sculptural work by Destiny Deacon, and a mysterious Janet Lawrence work amongst others.

Lastly, I just want to acknowledge the lack of published reviews on MONA FOMA despite my excited promises in my last post.  I did write an extensive review, but then realised the significant conflicts of interest made it unpublishable:

a) At least one of the artists will probably be marking my PhD (hard to avoid in Tassie), and

b) I volunteered at MONA FOMA. 

I should note that I really really enjoyed MONA FOMA however, even if I didn’t follow up with published reviews.  I didn’t sleep for 3 weeks!

MONA FOMA 2010 - anticipation post

I’ve been itching to write on a Hobart exhibition again, but the galleries seem to be recovering from they annual Christmas shows and have either shut up shop (CAST, Entrepot) or have an uninspiring spread.  Fortunately, this Friday (8^th) the second annual music/sound/art festival MONA FOMA begins. 

The inaugural festival was, to be honest, the best festival that I’ve ever attended, and got a few embarrassingly gushing posts as well as an Artlink review from me (which was criticised as being too positive – what does that say about professional review writing?) 

With the exception of the final night’s concert with the Dirty Three, John Cale and Bridezilla and a small event at the Theatre Royal, all the events at this year’s MONA FOMA are free.  The festival is obviously well funded for this to occur, and the 2010 festival’s apparently co-funded by David Walsh (who’s currently building his Museum of Old and New Art), the Salamanca Art Centre, and the Tasmanian state government.  This post is starting to sound a bit like a PR schpiel, however the reason why I don’t hesitate to point out the funding bodies is because MONA FOMA is so equitable.  Other Tassie festivals, such as 10 Days on the Island might have great line ups of international artists, actors and musicians, however I can only ever afford to attend one or two events at most unless I wrangle myself a reviewing job (in which case I can’t truly relax and enjoy the performance because I’m too busy making value judgments).

One of the must attend events for me is John Cale’s Dyddiau Du/Dark Days.  The work was exhibited at last year’s Venice Biennale in the Wales Pavilion but despite my frenzied attempt to see all the exhibitions in Venice in less than a week, this particular work was missed.  Thank you fate. 

The other must-see work is in the Bond Store of the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, one of my favourite exhibition spaces in Hobart due to the fact that its walls are dank and covered in historical convict graffiti, the stairs are precariously steep and made of roughly hewn wood, the floors are uneven and the entire building is held up by massive solid wood columns and beams.  The combined exhibition and performance is called 48 Fugues for Frank, and is described in the programme as “a musical homage to the life and work of Frank Zappa”:

Dodgy screen shot of the online MONA FOMA programme

Of course, I’ve also had a long love affair with the sounds of the Dirty Three, so I’m eagerly awaiting the closing concert. 

I’ll try and post a few reviews on my MONA FOMA experiences over the next couple of weeks.  Happy times.

Olafur Eliasson and tiny sculptures

I have an obsession with maquettes.

At the recent Olefur Eliasson exhibition at the MCA in Sydney, despite all his wonderful finished works, the real lure for me lay in one of the side rooms: the maquettes of imagined or eventually realised works.  Yes, the copper wire was messily soldered, the forms were perhaps unresolved, yet these tiny sculptures held something (other than potential) that really intrigued and excited me.

There’s something very special also about tiny sculptures.  They’re not on display currently, but the Art Gallery of New South Wales used to have an almost permanent exhibition of tiny Robert Klippel sculptures just next to the (now extended) café.  While I live in Hobart now, I grew up in Sydney and used to gravitate towards these strange forms whenever my parents took me to the gallery.  Maybe it was their minuteness, perhaps the fact that they kinda looked like other things (bicycles, swings, see-saws…), the forms had some sort of hold over me.  Alas, in the last few years, the Klippel sculptures have been removed, unfortunately coinciding with my ability to articulate exactly what I like about certain artworks.  If only I could see them one more time in my adulthood…

Advertising for canvas prints on my blog, oh no!

I thought I'd give this advertising for blogs a spin, as it seems a relatively harmless experiment.

However, I've noticed that a lot of the ads coming up are for canvas prints, which is a source of great distress for me.  A couple of months ago, I let go with a rant about the evils of this new trend in 'home decorating', but apparently google ads don't pick up on tones in writing.

I can see the funny side of the whole dilemma, but all the same does anyone out there know how to pick and choose your google ads?

ArtStart Grants: what do they do with the artists after fertilising them?

I'm not sure what Australia does with all the artists after they've grown and fertilised them, but I thought I'd stick up this link to the new Australia Council 'ArtStart' grant (mainly because I like the logo):

The thing that worries me is that all these grants stress that the cash is not intended to cover the living costs of artists.  In other words, it looks like the government is supporting artists (particularly emerging, if you talk to any mid-career starving artist) through all these grants with fancy logos etc., but in actual fact they're not prepared to invest in creating full-time, or at least long term, meaningful jobs for those in the arts industry.  Talk to any fine arts graduate and they'll tell you how hard it is to get a job relevant to their field (that does not include managing the photo hub at Kmart).  I know that there are a ridiculously large number of people enrolling in art schools around the country, and not all can be expected to get a job in the arts, but it would be nice if I knew that more than one of my fellow BFA graduates now has a fulfilling arts-related job.

So how do you employ artists and fine arts graduates? Off the top of my head, I'd say that the easiest way would be to pour more money into museums and acquisitions, and thus provide more museum jobs. At the moment the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery does not have an acquisition budget for instance (Luckily for Tasmanian artists, the privately funded, soon-to-be-opened Museum of Old and New Art, is commissioning away...).  Fund arts festivals which have a significant visual arts component, encourage both the public and private sectors to fund public artworks, and recognise the worth of artists in terms of creating a diverse and rich national culture (think about it - are most great cultures remembered in terms of their sporting prowress or their arts?).

Just an idea....

Hobart Art Galleries: a personal overview

[note: this is an old guide. An updated one can be found here]

The other day, an old friend from Sydney asked if there are many art galleries in Hobart. I don’t think she was being disparaging, because to be honest, it took me about three years to become even mildly familiar with the Hobart gallery scene. So I thought I’d do a quick overview of the key Hobart galleries (with lots of opinion), and send her the link with the added bonus that perhaps, just perhaps, it may interest others. Please note, that this is not a comprehensive listing of all Hobart galleries (I’d be here all day), but rather the ones that I regularly or semi-regularly visit and/or ones relevant to contemporary art and this blog.

Plimsoll Gallery

The Plimsoll is the University of Tasmania’s gallery, located at the Tasmanian School of Art on Hobart’s waterfront. The gallery is a little tricky to find as it is tucked away underneath the art school, which is housed in the majestic old IXL jam factory. The gallery has a rotation of three week curated exhibitions with an emphasis on international and interstate artists, although there are often quite a few artworks by Tasmanian artists on show. The Plimsoll Gallery, in my opinion, is one of the best contemporary art spaces in Hobart, showing an eclectic mix of exhibitions, which are usually quite challenging and cutting-edge, but occasionally regresses a little. Unfortunately, over the summer, in Hobart’s busiest tourist season (and when the gallery’s icicle-like temperatures are actually productive), the gallery is used for research post-graduate examinations, and is closed during the week. However, the post-graduate examinations are generally open to the public the weekend following examination, so check out the gallery’s website before you visit.

The current exhibition at the Plimsoll is the Wharmby Collection, which showcases works purchased by the University throughout the 90s as a result of a generous bequest from Marion Wharmby. The exhibition includes works by Sally Smart, Fiona Hall, David Keeling, Hossein Valamanesh, Bill Yaxley, and Elizabeth Gower to name a few, and has a distinct and funky thematic (a nice reflection perhaps, of the collection committee chaired by Lorraine Jenyns). The collection is not yet finished; in fact, the remaining money has grown in the last decade so that a substantial amount remains. The committee hopes to start acquiring works again by the end of the year, with the aim of completing the collection by the end of the year so that a monograph can be produced. It’s a good 90s art show, and not at all as boring as a exhibition with the word ‘collection’ in it, may suggest.

Entrepôt

To get to the Plimsoll, you have to walk through the windy art school tunnel, which houses the Tasmanian University Union-run gallery, Entrepôt. All students enrolled at the University are eligible to apply, both postgrad and undergrad, and as a result, the gallery showcases a wide range of art styles, and more notoriously, standards. Nevertheless, there are few restrictions placed on exhibitors at the gallery (I think there are three rules: you can’t burn the gallery down, brick the door up, or sleep there), and I’ve seen some pretty wacky exhibitions there over the years. Currently at Entrepôt is the TUU-affiliated Sculpture Society’s (unofficial) annual exhibition. It’s a bit of a mixed bag, including few videos, a work using blood samples and microscopes, and some interesting liquid-filled objects to name a few; but it’s definitely an improvement on last year’s show.

CAST (Contemporary Art Services Tasmania)

CAST is similar in its focus on contemporary art to the Plimsoll, but with an emphasis on local art. Located in Tasma St, North Hobart, and harder to find than the Plimsoll, they have a strangely difficult space to show work in despite its regular cubic shape (for some reason even the most imposing sculptures tend to shrink in the space). As the name of the organization suggests, CAST provides services beyond the gallery, assisting artists with grants, advocacy and other such necessities, and is run by an enthusiastic group. They also have some great annual programs such as the Emerging Curator Mentorship, the 3 into 1 show for emerging local artists, and the fun CAST members show (December), which by sheer necessity, is hung salon style. Currently at CAST is About Photography II.

Inflight

Inflight is Hobart’s (relatively) long-running Artist Run Initiative (ARI), which is more challenging to find than the Plimsoll and CAST combined… plus some. Inflight is hidden behind the toilets, which are behind the garbage bins, behind the carpark, behind Kaos café in Elizabeth St North Hobart. The gallery has two small spaces, and so there are usually two shows running at any one time. The work there often wants to be innovative and [insert contemporary art buzz word here], with various level of success, but it’s always worth a look. I haven’t actually been to the current exhibitions, which I understand consists of a curated exhibition in the main gallery and in the smaller gallery, a show by local artist, Iona Johnson.

6a

6a is the new ARI on the block. In the last two (?) years since its opening, the gallery/studio complex, housed in an ex-pet butchers/slaughterhouse, has established itself as an art space to complement, rather than rival, Inflight. The difficultly shaped space encourages site-specific art (if you’ve ever wanted to make a work in a kitchen or bathtub, apply now). The openings are always last on a night’s gallery opening run and usually run quite late, with crowds of younger, scungy, arty types gripping beers and toasties around a fire in an old oil drum in the gallery’s dusty carpark, accompanied by the sounds of local musicians/sound makers. Not quite on the same scale of hard-to-find as Inflight, to get to 6a Newdegate St, North Hobart, look for the meaty sign at the entrance of an industrial-looking driveway between two houses. Ben Booth’s work is currently on show, including some of his wonderful distinctly styled sculptures, and an anxious-making video.

Fine Arts Gallery (FAG)

The FAG is a small Tasmanian School of Art-run space up on the main campus of the Uni, Sandy Bay. I rarely make the ‘trek’ (I think I’ve been in tiny Hobart too long if I think of a trip to Sandy Bay as a significant mission), but I understand that it’s got a new and enthusiastic committee and has had some really good shows recently. Currently on show is the work of 3^rd year painting students.

Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery

As the major state institution, I probably should have put the TMAG first, however, it just doesn’t show enough contemporary art to warrant an early mention. To give the TMAG credit, there have been some great shows in the last few years - mostly survey shows of the work of artists such as Mike Parr, Patricia Piccinini, and Leigh Hobba. The annual Hobart City Council art prize, hosted by the gallery, keeps getting better too. Funds are apparently an ongoing problem in regards to both acquisitions and exhibitions, but it’s a real shame that such a high profile and prominently positioned institution can’t host a more consistent cycle of relevant and engaging art exhibitions. Currently on display in the ‘art’ area is a small selection of art and craft in a walk-through area (enthusiastically titled The 80s Show); a beautiful exhibition of indigenous fibre works, called Tayenebe; and Jao Tsung-I – calligraphy and painting by the Chinese scholar, which has unfortunately been advertised as ‘the largest…’ and ‘the only…’ rather than emphasising the exhibition’s artistic merits.

Detached

The church-turned-house-turned-gallery, Detached, was unveiled late last year to co-host Mike Parr’s The Tilted Stage with the TMAG. It’s privately owned, but behaves like a well-endowed public gallery. To be honest, I don’t really know much about the gallery, but I like what I’ve seen so far. Detached is currently hosting Brook Andrew’s 8 Months of War, and is located in Campbell St, just around the corner from the TMAG.

Carnegie

The Carnegie Gallery is a Hobart City Council-run gallery hidden above the Maritime Museum in Argyle St (this hiding-the-gallery thing is turning out to be a massive theme in this post). It has an eclectic range of exhibitions, ranging from the best that contemporary art can offer, to the Australian Glass Society’s members’ exhibition. Ignore the Maritime Museum attendants when you enter. They’ll glare at you, but just keep walking up the grand stairs.

Salamanca Arts Centre

The Salamanca Arts Centre houses a number of galleries, but I’m going to list them as one simply because this post is blowing out. The largest gallery is the Long Gallery, which again has an eclectic mix, although they’re less discriminating than most of the other galleries listed above. One weekend you might find a blaring sound art exhibition and a room full of finches jumping on amped up guitars, the next you’ll stumble across a show by the Tasmanian Embroidery Club. Go figure. Next to the Long Gallery is the Sidespace and on the very top floor is the appropriately titled Topspace. The Long Gallery, Sidespace, Topspace, and Kelly’s Garden (an outside, gravel-filled space) all accept proposals, and there’s usually at least one good exhibition on at any one time.

Salamanca Arts Centre is also home to a couple of artist coops, the best of which is called Handmark. Handmark is currently showing a weird and wonderful exhibition of paintings and sculptures by Tricky Walsh. In addition, there are a number of ‘craft ‘n’ art’ shops, many of which are pretty banal, although the jewellery shops are quite good.

Bett Gallery

Bett Gallery is a commercial gallery, and part of the Hobart furniture. It shows quite a mixture of art, although painting seems to be the predominant medium of choice. They also favour male artists. In addition to their shop front in North Hobart, they show work in Raincheck Lounge, a coffee shop just down the road, although these shows tend to exhibit the work of younger, emerging artists.

Criterion Gallery

Like Bett Gallery, the commercial Criterion Gallery tends to favour male artists. Nevertheless, Criterion is always worth a visit. Located in Criterion St in the centre of the CBD, make sure you have a coffee at the adjacent Criterion Café at the same time.

MONA (Museum of Old and New Art)

The Museum of Old and New Art isn’t even finished, but since it’s so eagerly awaited, I thought I’d tack it onto the end of this list. I visited the construction site a month ago and it looks amazing already. Tasmanian philanthropist and owner of Moorilla winery, David Walsh, is building the massive museum (it promises to be the largest private art gallery in Australia) to house his significant (and growing) art collection, a theatre, space for temporary and touring exhibitions, a library, and bar…s. The website is worth a visit even if you can't get the museum yet.

Mega post completed. Again, I must stress that this is all just opinion. Enjoy art.