Nora Turano’s ‘pool7’
A light airy room, sunlight dappled over hundreds of a4 paper, printed thoughts and concepts. Walking through this room and reading, ideas are introduced, then played with throughout. Sometimes through questions, that will be considered, then a conclusion - and sometimes left unsolved, yet more understood through a type of external thought processing.
This feels like a collection of multiple concepts, gathered together to make a new ones through different word meanings being consistently considered and used. This approach brings simplistic sentences pulsing with possibility, you can feel a fascination with words and meaning through this stream. Sometimes the words are profound and serious, sometimes playful and comedic.
The growth of a thought from an idea is shown through the relationship with self, as well as the self in the external world. There is an ever-cycling pattern of oneself, internal, and oneself, external. The relationship to oneself feels worked through and like an attempt at a sort of self-connection, or perhaps an attempt at acceptance of the external world. There is a pattern of anger and frustration towards the world, and its societal injustice. Through this constant referral back to oneself, the viewer also sees themselves and is given the opportunity to question their own relationship to the concepts that stand out and feel relevant. As there are so many offerings of thought, whichever path and pattern the viewer sees, is shown like a mirror.
These pathways come together in a grid network, where connections can be made in any direction, up, down, across, diagonally. This gives autonomy in how the viewer experiences these connections, the flow of concept remaining, regardless of direction. Like a self-driven meditation.
A charming vulnerability is seen in some intimate findings, questions and concerns. These are often body related, often referring back to speaking and listening, the ear and throat. The menstrual cycle and the pelvis, a woman's inner dialogue. An understanding of the body through its functions, and its ability to do them - and where this leads in self realisation. Pain, the need for ‘space’ and everlasting cycles are also to be found in this collection of writing.
Michael Dohr’s ‘Point of no return’
A transformative moment, in a singular fixed position. A room of painting and sculpture, silent and still, yet exuberant in energy.The exhibition explores this moment of an ‘irreversible tipping point’ and the suspended consequence of action, not aftermath but the moment of momentum and synergy before the fall. A particular idea I see played with is that of pain, especially in the graphic expression of rupture and physical process. A sort of transformative process has clearly affected a sculpture, not one of subtlety but of obvious harshness. Gazing at this abstract physical entity, one sees it to be intact and still, after such a level of process - pain, ripping, tearing, rupturing, there is still strength in its angular shape, and the perceived imperfections are accepted as a part of this. Rather than understanding what it would have been previously, one can understand the piece in its own immediate state, in harmony with the paintings and exhibition space.
Regardless of this demonstrated pain, I felt a certain peace in the sculpture among the paintings. An aspect of belonging within the room, and the painfulness of effort in the painting. In them we see repetition of shapes, colour and energy, to understand this system that it is trapped within - ironically enough, this is only a singular moment, powerfully immortalized. The paintings appear to be trying to escape something that is within the structure it cannot. A time loop of the here and now, efforts to escape its fate of forever frozen in the image. It is now for the viewer to carry this into the next step, into the fall of the momentum and collapse.
With regard to energetic expression, some lines and shapes look somewhat out of control, not the exact shape, but in its chaotic positioning and surroundings - however, there lays a quiet hint of order within a working system which manifests in repetition, calculated angle and form, scale, and colour repetition. There is a beautiful juxtaposition of sharp, strong teardrop shapes, with smaller more chaotic and frantic swirls, more fragile but we see that the pathways these lines produce are actually too orderly to be panicked. The roundness of the droplet shows a type of momentum that swirls upon itself, an expression that doesn’t have another place to go in the bold outlines of the shape.
The longer I spent with this work, the more I came to a conclusion of pain and birth and creation, and the inevitability and angst of transformation. The acceptance of it, and its importance, as well as our perception of it - of how we ‘meet’ this idea, and how we work with it and respond to it in a type of harmony that is only possible in the acceptance and embracement of it. This painful, messy and chaotic process that is not inherently bad, it's the first important process for life. It is the first breath of many later that continues and flows and quite literally a point of no return, where once birthed we can only transform.
This leaves the viewer contemplating our own responsibility of how we come to understand this moment. How does this moment happen, and is it simply always inevitable as a part of the cycle of birth, creation, and transformation? Perhaps a prophecy of always up and down, inhale and exhale? Or are there elements in our control at how much damage and impact the rise and fall has? The very acknowledgment of this important moment collects itself within our own layers of understanding, weaving into the place somewhere between truth and perception.
Jon Rafman’s ‘Proof of Concept’
Firstly one is presented with an amalgamation of visual and pictorial stimulation, contradictions in texture, colour and noise. I found that once I situated myself in the noise and perceived discordance, the feeling of being encasped within this vortex, as perhaps a cell within a working system floating upon the next visual stimulation, was apparent.
Each idea felt like a thought path of synapse within a brain, that the viewer was able to tap into.
This position of the viewer understanding themselves within the work is a valuable concept within art - as the viewer now becomes associated with experience itself, rather than a mere observer. Understanding that relationship between viewer and art is an important catalyst for change, growth, and action. Beyond, a life of its own outside the gallery, still existing even in lack of presence - in this transformation.
The area where one can sit down, rather intimately with a video and headphones felt like understanding a single thought path or synapse within Rafman’s brain, the room.
A vortex of the brain, where you quite literally walk in and cannot see the exit. Dream-like figures, with reflections of a narrative clearly pulled from many different areas of life, the internet, internet culture and gaming. The viewer becomes encapsulated, transforming from viewer to a character within this world.
The idea of showing us our digital possibility, based upon past and possible future I found to be an important concept - allowing in the ultimate decision of what is reality, yet never coming to a complete conclusion, due to the very nature of the question.
Peter Fischli and Gili Tal’s, ‘Autumn on Everything’
The pleasure of ‘internalizing the exterior’, is done through the observation and understanding of something already made. Exteriorizing the interior is the process towards this, and the analysis only comes afterward, once the mirror is reflected back yet again. ‘simply naming the images to fix their existence, driven by the fear, or hope, that they mean nothing to me -that I’m touched, or alienated, from my observed surroundings,’ This quote by Fischli, compiles the human personalness in everything as an experience. Here I take the idea that a voyeur is not possible, as we are not seeing the exterior alone, but instead the exterior reflected back inside of ourselves, an added layer of us onto it. The deeper knowing that nothing that we are observing or experiencing could be alien through the very fact that it is through oursevles that this is taking place. This idea mimics our very own narrative, that we naturally adhere to in our understanding of the world around us.
The phone and our everyday life being the space in which the process is represented. This constant recycling of idea, process and matter - and untraditional processes within art being used, like a tourist looking at something anew with wonder - similar to our meeting with art. But are we remaining conscious when this process is happening, or simply going through the motions of what is known and has been done, therefore will be done again? Or are we somewhere between the two extremes - the tourist who wishes to see something new, yet finds the same patterns externally, realizing the inescapable internal that is our primary lense of life. That drives our creative responses and processes.
I feel in this room not a criticism of the subconscious human drive and desire for connection, but an understanding of it. These vinyl tiles do not mock, but comfort and present ourselves to us. Photos that the viewer has no knowledge of are now a photo we understand and recognise, just as the mundane and ordinary can actually show us profound inner conclusions, with space for interpretation to flourish. The simplicity is refreshing.
The fridge dismantles all known directions in which we are unavoidably victims of capitalism, whilst the floor is built upon photos taken due to that same fact. In front of us an inanimate fridge becomes alive, through the viewer taking on their own forms and ideas. A household item that is a privilege to have still somehow looks so sad - because ‘almost empty’ and sad are parallel, as on what terms are they used as examples? Our basic human needs, and not our capitalist desires.
Do we flourish and connect because of the system we are built into, or regardless of it? Is it as a product, or is it so innate that it will surface anyway? To what extent does our system and environment sway our beliefs on how we achieve such human notions?
The lighting structure rotated on a dim yellow, and a bright white, but not bright enough to change the appearance of the whole room - felt like a contemplative space. Not of obstruction or opposition, but of something more subtle, still known. The slight difference in hue becomes less slight when shown in comparison. One is bright and clean while the other is warm, but against a harshly black and white room, it becomes almost stained to the eye.
Ken Nwadiogbu’s ‘I Belong Here’
During this exhibition I experienced a distinct sense of energetically feeling each painting and character through their space, body language and thoughtful use of texture and colour. The moments belonging to each of the characters show us layers of experience and emotion. Even when in comfort, there is a warriness. In the feeling of strain, there is a determination and will.
The paintings served as extremely striking, but more importantly thought-inducing, and to me the emotional aspect really reached through, as you’re walking through understanding this ever-present journey, that is both a physical and emotional one.
The external journey of being situated in the world, as well as an inner introspective one of yourself and the people before you, this generational and multi-layered inner self.
Intimate and layered - physically in the paint as well as emotionally, time and repetition are shown in each canvas. A beautifully simple yet effective demonstration of this ever-present journey.
Roméo Mivekannin’s ‘Human in Motion’
Standing in the centre of the room, and slowly following the movement of the human figure through individual frames feels dizzingly real in a way - like our own sphere of time has slowed down to the speed that one views a single frame. Glimpses of self-portrait sneak a look at you to hold eye contact. Now caught off guard, the viewer is no longer a mere observer, and distinction between viewer and art is less clear. We now have accountability and repsonsabiltiy in viewing, as we are being watched by the piece and artist themselves. This subtle distinction holds so much value to a viewer and now puts a in a ‘front seat’ position where we can switch on and now act out of this new level of viewer if we were not already. The scale of the piece also emphasises this accountability, as the art seems so much bigger than oneself, and it feels a duty to let it speak to the viewer and to leave with an understanding. I felt that with every frame that was captured, the viewer is seeing a slightly different perspective, not physically - similar to how the photographs where this began were made - but conceptually, like there's something to learn in each pocket of a journey and each wave in time. There are countless changes and nuances that find itself in expression of movement within a frozen image.
A keleadescpoe of expression is shown through form, movement, brush stroke, line in movement and facial expression. One sees a point in time that is synthesized with moments from the past - which in a way is accurate.
“Human figure in Motion” is from photographer Eadweard Muybridge, who, with different cameras from multiple angles, captured and rendered separate images. Now Mivekannin’s ‘Human in Motion’ is a layering of history and himself onto it. The concept of migration is shown through the physical travel, from the ever-moving form.
Since the images aren't actually moving, they're just representations of it, one feels sense of permanence in this self. Although each figure expresses differently, it is still the figure with the same face, and although on a physical journey, the strength in the human form does not seem to change. Although on this journey, where they are seen walking up, down, running, the strength and posture remain. Although small differences in head posture and neck, the shoulders are still back, strong outward-facing chest, which I found a hint of a certain courage in the form.
Overall, the viewer, understanding the piece this way - does not actually affect the two histories that are here synthesized. I am in the seat of observer, and although now more active and understanding and inquisitive, this piece feels more of a documentation, that I am creatively understanding through my own lens. This room was transcendent in the basic laws of our universe, being time and motion, and intelligently pulls one into this sphere of time and movement for a short while.
André Butzer and Hans Josephson exhibition
Layers of juxtaposition that allow each point of view to speak to the viewer, ushering differently, in a strange kind of harmony. Here I observed a playful image of expression in Butzer’s exuberant paintings, whereas Josephson’s - although somewhat ambiguous - depiction of figure, felt affirming and grounded.
I noticed a sensitivity surrounding the sculptures, which was not undermined by Butzer’s louder and brighter pieces, but instead worked in harmony with it - and offered another layer of experience. Having had this experience I now recognise that this contradiction is in line with the gallery’s ethos, ‘a space where stances and positions harmonised and conflicted.’
The quiet-loud contrast is a forever intriguing concept. How we accept each and respond, together like a conversation of speaking and listening.
There is often a misconception about polarities that there are two, forgetting the idea of two within an all-encompassing whole, making three. Loud, quiet; sound. Listening, speaking; conversation. Remembering the whole that encompasses each allows us to remember their connection - and that in difference and opposition, unity and balance can persist.
After Image
The After image, a phenomenon occurring when photochemical activity in the retina continues even when the eyes are no longer experiencing the original stimulus. So, if the eyes are subjected to reds and yellows, they respond by producing the complementary colours green and purple as an after image. Questions of what is physically accurate versus our own perception, and which is ‘reality’?
Colour theorist and painter, Josef Albers writes about afterimage in his book, Interaction of Colour, 1963, ‘Staring at red will fatigue the red sensitive parts (of the retina), so that with a sudden shift to white (which again consists of red, yellow and blue), only the mixture of yellow and blue occurs. And this is green, the complement of red.’
The viewer’s current frame of mind, emotional state, and what they have previously been visually exposed to will also have an effect on their perception and experience. It is to be considered that whatever one experiences in the present moment will be tinted with previous experiences, and how the body stores this memory of where you have been
French philosopher Merleau-Ponty in The Phenomenology of Perception, discusses temporal acquisition and the idea that our past experiences, remembered or not, follow us into the ever-present moment. He expresses the idea that all experience, every moment we have lived through persists indefinitely within us, influencing us in ways we are not aware of, with the memories of our childhood remaining throughout our lives, ‘What we have lived exists and remains for us, perpetually; the old man remains in contact with his childhood’.
So as we come to understand that our past memory is crucial in the role of our perception of experiences, we must now consider the effect is has on the future of something yet to be experienced.
Chiharu Shiota
Walking through the red webs of thread, an overwhelming geometry, something I notice is a distinction made between a ‘here’ and ‘there’, with the use of windows. The separation that we see through, but the tangible red thread can pierce through, connecting us to the ‘other’. Through being confronted with a window, we are forced to view something so obviously outside of not only ourselves, but our immediate area. The space now viewer, viewer’s foreground and ‘other’.
The window as we know also suggests the city’s history, the separation and physicality of what it means for a widow to be used here, rather than its original purpose. The use of a found object in art always creates a layer of authenticity and realness to something that is made. We can now question how it got here and why? Loss is intertwined somewhere in this path, suspended in the air like the very windows themselves.
Concerning the gallery space (the St Agnes Church) I noticed how the church became transformed into a sculpture - the existing walls of the gallery now became the bones of the installation. How the gallery surpassed its purpose of creating a space for an exhibition, now being an integral factor in the exhibition - and thus, the viewer's experience. This distinction is what I believe to be an important and daring move in art, which aligns with the innovative ways I see within it.
And lastly, the colour red - it is so intrinsic to the human body and relatable to our lives in so many ways. We each have layers of ideas surrounding red, and this web of string and threading can imitate various concepts and ideas. At first I felt a strong connection to the body, and our internal, that we only get glimpses of; veins, nerves, blood, vessels, muscle. This deep red life force that flows through us now spills into each forgotten corner of the room, and wreathes endless pathways, floating and darting through space, suspended. There is a movement to be seen in something physically still, through both potential and previous energy. Weaving patterns suggestive of what has been, and endless swirling paths in motion.
Olafur Eliasson, colour, and movement in viewer.
Many of Eliasson’s works concern the relationship between the art and viewer, the exploration of colour and environmental issues. The immersive spaces in which he creates usually allows the viewer to become a component of the art, physically and metaphorically. The idea of a reaction provoked through the experience of it is a preface to the discussion of importance of the phenomenological aspect of art for the viewer.
Eliasson explores colour in many of his works which offers ideas on its impacts to the viewer’s perception through the lens of merely fragmented light. Our own ideas, preconceptions and thoughts on colour, not even singular but combined, is now manifested into our viewing experience. How powerful is colour if it was for the lack of ourselves and the character? We have primal aspects of our brain that responds to colours, however what if colour is actually partly a self-made lens in our psyche? (This is discussed more in, ‘Afterimage’)
How much control does a viewer have over their viewing experience of a piece? Walking through a piece or a collection is often a different experience to standing in front of a piece, Eliasson himself addresses this, identifying ‘much of the experience is quite literally inscribed in your legs.’ Perhaps the idea of the human body (and human consciousness) is an important concept that carries through many artists and their works as it can be a catalyst for the ultimate experience of art. Eliasson’s interpretation of viewing experience is often grounded in movement, rooted in the concept of movement and a noticing of the present moment, similar to a form of mindfulness. In his installations, particularly ‘Your Rainbow Panorama, 2011’, there is a suggestion that the use of a circular walkway, as opposed to a square one, emphasises the journey and the present moment, particularly in contrast to the square shape of the building it is located in. The idea of a cycle, a never-beginning, never-ending present moment loop.
Walking through a circular path means being unable to see your destination. Questions surrounding destination now arise, what is it, where is it, does it even exist and what is its relevance if so? Eliasson has spoken on this, and he actually uses the comparison of English and French gardens, how French gardens have a pathway leading up to the central figure (usually a statue) and how in typical English gardens, not being able to see where you’re going is a central part of the whole experience. The act of movement is essential as he describes how in moving through the garden ‘…you create your own experience.’
The idea of creating your own experience relies on actually being mindfully aware, existing in the present moment to experience it, thus the circular pathway allows this. ‘The objective is not to reach the work and view it, but to move and sense your way through it’.
Could it be that the lack of movement in art is hindering experiencing it fully? Perhaps us, the viewer may benefit from considering our involvement and decision in experience. To meet the art and to work with it.