One expects works at a solo exhibition to be part of a focused dialogue but with Parallax the works share a deeper relationship: most of the artworks extend the discourse into unexpected territory or echo one another in such a way that Vári's viewpoint feels well-rounded and solid. This characteristic ties in neatly with the exhibition's main thrust: the shifts in nature and its relationship to humanity and culture, which, through myth, superstition and fantasy gives expression to this complex connection.
Certainly, in a few works there exists an obvious visual synthesis such as between Totem, a digital video artwork, and the series of photographs entitled Dog Star Night. It is the dark silhouette of trees against a fluctuating night sky that forms the central motif in both works. In Totem, the trees are obviously animated and sway and rustle.
In-between these prosaic natural growths is a mutating being that at times appears anthropomorphic and at others simply mirrors the shape of the trees - it vacillates between being different and the same. In this way it moves from signifying a human to an object of human superstition to a natural entity. This object/subject is the totem. In so-called primitive societies the totem generally represented a community of people, thus in a metaphorical sense it should have dynamic, shifting persona.
This is a dry description of this work that doesn't do justice to the fact that it is sensually compelling - a vital aspect . It is the music or rhythmic sounds that Vári has selected - sighs of pleasure - that imply that this confluence between human and nature provides a transcendental experience, allowing humankind to imagine an unseen world or order that makes sense of reality.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
New MacGarry exhibition
It is not often that a photograph of an animal in a rather uncomfortable position and with manmade accoutrements attached to its body gets me all excited but when it comes accompanied by a very comprehensive press release, written by Michael MacGarry, for his up and coming exhibition then I am gripped by a frisson of anticipation. The title of the exhibition does sound like a statement fashioned by an angst-ridden teenager eschewing the society he has been born into: THIS IS YOUR WORLD IN WHICH WE GROW, AND WE WILL GROW TO HATE YOU (must be in upper case for impact). One can almost see it spray-painted across a wall in a schoolyard. And in a sense MacGarry is rallying against a corrupt system or at least is once-again pondering the shady mechanics of political ascendancy. This is not modern-day protest art; based on the statements that Avant Car Guard made around resistance art in their last exhibition I don’t think MacGarry believes in the transformative function of art: art can question systems but not shift their impetus. I have to say that I agree with this viewpoint. This rather chilling quote from Jean-Luc Godard, Weekend, 1967, which is included in MacGarry’s press release, articulates the lack of agency that the artist experiences and speaks of the only available route an artist can take:
"I said to myself, what is the good of talking to them?
If they buy knowledge, it is only to resell it.
They want cheap knowledge to sell at a profit.
They want nothing which would stand in the way of their victory.
They don't want to be oppressed, they want to oppress.
They don't want progress, they want to be first.
They will submit to anyone who promises them they can make the laws.
I wondered what I could say to them.
I decided it was that."
"I said to myself, what is the good of talking to them?
If they buy knowledge, it is only to resell it.
They want cheap knowledge to sell at a profit.
They want nothing which would stand in the way of their victory.
They don't want to be oppressed, they want to oppress.
They don't want progress, they want to be first.
They will submit to anyone who promises them they can make the laws.
I wondered what I could say to them.
I decided it was that."
Labels:
Brodie/Stevenson,
Michael MacGarry
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Be Very Afraid
It wasn't all good news at BASA’s (Business and Arts South Africa) presentation of the research they have conducted into corporate sponsorship of the arts. It was presented by Michelle Constant, its CEO, and was surprisingly short: the bulk of their findings can only be gleaned for a fee. I know they need the revenue but not sure how that serves both the business and arts community, especially considering Constant’s observation that there is very little research available on the arts. None of their findings were really surprising either: for example the business community believes that arts organisations are disorganised and not proactive enough – in other words they have a negative view of this industry. Through their research BASA also established that there is a clear division between what corporates view as social responsibility programmes and marketing initiatives (no surprise there either) – Constant believed that corporates could market their brand while sponsoring social responsibility programmes. The main problem that I have observed is that the kind of endeavours that companies consider as social responsibility projects tend not to be “high art” activities for obvious reasons; if they sponsor an event that is simply an art for art’s sake project then it is not seen as uplifting to society. The view that business appears to take is that supporting art and artists is in itself not perceived as being “socially responsible” .
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Shadi at Goethe
From this blog you would think that January was Lerato Shadi month but it was kind of in Joburg. It definitely was one of the hottest shows on this month. Sean Slemon opened at Brodie/Stevenson but it was open for such a short time that it closed before I got to see it, which I am really dissapointed about, the images that David posted on FB looked fantastic. Minette Vari's Parallax opened at the Goodman and was there yesterday to check it out. She had some really cool video artworks (as usual), she really is one of a few artists who exploits the digital film medium. Will be reviewing for next week in the Sunday Indy so won't go into much detail. BTW: The Goodman Gallery in Joburg is expanding; Liza gave me a short tour yesterday. There will be permanent photographic section, with a sort of archive of photographic prints. There will also be a coffee shop and a sort of library area where members of the public will be able to peruse through the gallery's extensive collection of art books. This has to be a first for a South African gallery and I think it is a wonderful addition to the gallery, it will encourage people to spend more time at the gallery and it will hopefully encourage the public to read about art, a neccessary activity if they are to appreciate it to its fullest extent.
My Shadi review:
LERATO Shadi is an old-school performance artist in the sense that she is physically invested in her works. Her works are lengthy - Selogilwe (Setswana for "woven") is seven hours - and, therefore, require a high level of physical commitment. So, on a very basic level she explores perpetual actions and how they impact on the body. There is always a sense with Shadi's work that she wishes to identify those acts that are fundamental to human existence.
Shadi uses a neutral canvas for her performances by employing a white palette for the background (in the video performances), her outfit and the metal cubes, which she crawls through in Se Sa Feleng (reference to a Setswana idiom that refers to an eternal state of affairs). This decontextualises her actions, allowing them to exist as abstract expression. It also establishes an imaginative plain, encouraging the viewer to attach their subjective interpretations to the works.
The repetitiveness of her actions also locks viewers into a meditative state, which can simultaneously free them from thought altogether. No doubt, while performing Shadi too vacillates between serious contemplation and mindlessness - both equally empowering states that allow her to either completely inhabit her physical being or to altogether detach from it. And this is the dual function of repetitive movements.
My Shadi review:
LERATO Shadi is an old-school performance artist in the sense that she is physically invested in her works. Her works are lengthy - Selogilwe (Setswana for "woven") is seven hours - and, therefore, require a high level of physical commitment. So, on a very basic level she explores perpetual actions and how they impact on the body. There is always a sense with Shadi's work that she wishes to identify those acts that are fundamental to human existence.
Shadi uses a neutral canvas for her performances by employing a white palette for the background (in the video performances), her outfit and the metal cubes, which she crawls through in Se Sa Feleng (reference to a Setswana idiom that refers to an eternal state of affairs). This decontextualises her actions, allowing them to exist as abstract expression. It also establishes an imaginative plain, encouraging the viewer to attach their subjective interpretations to the works.
The repetitiveness of her actions also locks viewers into a meditative state, which can simultaneously free them from thought altogether. No doubt, while performing Shadi too vacillates between serious contemplation and mindlessness - both equally empowering states that allow her to either completely inhabit her physical being or to altogether detach from it. And this is the dual function of repetitive movements.
Labels:
Goethe on Main,
Lerato Shadi
Friday, January 22, 2010
Gavin Turk interview
As one who has always shown disdain for those who believe that products, creators, from Western centres are automatically superior I was kind of taken aback by my excitement at the prospect of interviewing Gavin Turk. I like to think that it wasn’t an ingrained response but rather one related to the fact that I was living in London during what I consider to have been the height of his career. A fact which he sort of acknowledged when he remarked during the interview that the lifespan of an artist’s career has shrunk; that it no longer lasts a lifetime. He partly blamed the, er, media for this. I am not sure I altogether agree with that: I can think of many artists who are enjoying life long careers. But I suppose his point was that the pinnacle of their career has perhaps been truncated by overexposure.
It’s doubtful that Turk got to read my interview but if he had I think he would have been most pleased by the way in which his artwork Blue Elvis was further distorted by being reproduced in the newspaper. My editor was concerned that the image had been degraded but I assured her that it would have been much to Turk’s liking.
Right, the interview:
I don't have any nuanced non-verbal gestures to go on; only Gavin Turk's voice, marked by a British accent. Telephonic interviews are always a tricky business: a bit like eating with your eyes closed. But I can easily picture his visage; it is a signature motif in his art. Of course, it is disguised somewhat, as he characteristically superimposes it on images of icons such as Che Guevara, Andy Warhol and Elvis Presley or its likeness appears in lifelike wax self-portraits, such as Pop (1993). He by no means employs straightforward portraiture; in Pop he presents a portrait of a hybrid being, born at the intersection of popular culture and celebrity myth-making.
He fuses elements drawn from a variety of personas: Sid Vicious pictured singing Sinatra's My Way in the pose of Elvis Presley playing the part of a cowboy in a movie, an image which Warhol silk-screened. They are copies of copies of copies - public figures like Turk, who are not presenting themselves but are mimicking other figures. Their real identity is obscured by pastiche and stylisation, they have become caricatures of themselves and others.
"I hope that people are able to see and not see what my images are. That they can recognise an image but don't quite recognise it. I think that art should somehow check people's preconceptions, that somehow it suggests that things aren't quite what you thought. There should be an inbuilt awkwardness with images," explains Turk.
It’s doubtful that Turk got to read my interview but if he had I think he would have been most pleased by the way in which his artwork Blue Elvis was further distorted by being reproduced in the newspaper. My editor was concerned that the image had been degraded but I assured her that it would have been much to Turk’s liking.
Right, the interview:
I don't have any nuanced non-verbal gestures to go on; only Gavin Turk's voice, marked by a British accent. Telephonic interviews are always a tricky business: a bit like eating with your eyes closed. But I can easily picture his visage; it is a signature motif in his art. Of course, it is disguised somewhat, as he characteristically superimposes it on images of icons such as Che Guevara, Andy Warhol and Elvis Presley or its likeness appears in lifelike wax self-portraits, such as Pop (1993). He by no means employs straightforward portraiture; in Pop he presents a portrait of a hybrid being, born at the intersection of popular culture and celebrity myth-making.
He fuses elements drawn from a variety of personas: Sid Vicious pictured singing Sinatra's My Way in the pose of Elvis Presley playing the part of a cowboy in a movie, an image which Warhol silk-screened. They are copies of copies of copies - public figures like Turk, who are not presenting themselves but are mimicking other figures. Their real identity is obscured by pastiche and stylisation, they have become caricatures of themselves and others.
"I hope that people are able to see and not see what my images are. That they can recognise an image but don't quite recognise it. I think that art should somehow check people's preconceptions, that somehow it suggests that things aren't quite what you thought. There should be an inbuilt awkwardness with images," explains Turk.
Labels:
Gavin Turk,
Goodman Gallery
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