Sieving for Gold @ St Barnabas' Church, Dalston

Review by Liz Lau

The title of the show Ordinary Time is a reference to where the date of the exhibition falls on the liturgical calendar. Nevertheless it soon becomes noticeable whilst searching through this interventionist exhibition, nestled into alcoves, arches, on and around the fixtures and architecture of the space that there is nothing ordinary about this assortment of works.

A truly mixed media show ranging from gentle kinetic light sculptures by Jamie Lau, conceptual-crafting by E.A Byrne, a vaporous video projection from Aine O’Dwyer, found sculptural assemblages by Daniel Curtis to a cryptic sound installation by Joe Townend & Toby Owen in which a string quintet plays Beethoven’s String Quintet in C Major, Op. 29 where the sound of the music has then been removed, leaving only breathing and some incidental sounds. Most works were made especially for the exhibition with other pieces having had a life of their own prior to the show’s incarnation but seamlessly slot in as though divine intervention had guided them home.

Thirteen London-based artists have come together to explore and respond to the space through their chosen materiality lead by artist-curator Liza Cucco. Liza’s own work consists of three sound recordings that speak of childhood memories of inexplicable or supernatural events told through the cynical and rational mind of an adult, together with handmade small liquorish gun sweets peppered through the space acting as existential objects from one of these memories. St Barnabas Church in Dalston, London, is the setting for this exhibition with it’s high vaulted arched ceilings, utilitarian structural design yet with a distinctly mediaeval grandeur to boot.

The space is abundantly theatrical through the play of light and shadows constantly changing depending on the time of day, and the iconography, symbolism and hefty almost Cathedral like size all add to the sense that you’re on stage. It’s then natural to recoil and think about how the works would operate in the safety of a traditional white walled gallery space but suddenly this feels too reductive and bland and you’re instantly lured back into the realms of this theatrical troupe.

Studies from St. Barnabas by artist Alexandra Hughes are small post-card sized photographic montages acting as a neat counterbalance to the vastness of the space. The images are photographic responses to this interweave of shadow and light spilling through the windows, which have then been masked and collaged using shapes found in the church. Arranged in a grouping on a ledge where one of the shadows found in the work falls, creates a further layer of real-time shadow play.

Armed with the much appreciated exhibition floor plan, you go in search with the aim of discovery reliant on you to seek out many of the works. Next stop E.A Byrne’s work is a subtle intervention of bright handmade orange prayer cushions hung onto the back of the congregation chairs. 42 in total are rearranged alongside 42 existing cushions creating an overall effect of a checkerboard that responds to the repeating shapes and systemization of the architectural space. The quote Ad eundum quo nemo ante iit has been stitched by hand onto a selection of the orange cushions, the interpretation reads To boldly go where no man has gone before. Are we being lead to see the act of prayer as a way to go beyond our earthly existence with the church being the mothership and it’s congregation and priest being the crew and captain? Religion and Sci-fi crossover in this work to create a sense of possibility and exploration.

In a warp drive speed survey of this show we arrive at Dog Fur Diamonds by Petrina Ng. These are a series of hand-sized diamond shaped sculptures made from dog fur, arranged freely on top of the Baptismal in an alcove under an existing light take on a Raiders of the Lost Ark sensibility as though you have discovered rare treasure. The piece itself speaks of making memories eternal since the dog fur is from the artist’s pet dog who died years earlier and through the act of forging diamonds from this fur she allows the memory of her family pet to live on with her through adulthood.

Jamie Lau contributes two works to this show, the first titled I was Lost then I was Found is a reconfigured prayer kneeler with suspended flex and light bulb boring through the bible shelf, coal has been poured and place strategically through the kneeler offering us an unstirring hushed sense of hope yet radiates into the realm of anxiety and a deathly serenity. The second work a soft kinetic light piece titled Committee, this is a bigger and more functional looking installation, it’s large frame stands with purpose and with pride up on the main stage, taking on the resemblance of a mining rescue capsule and pulley. Another cable and light is suspended but this time motions softly up and down gently rocking from side to side. A mound of coal with a hole tunneled through allows the light to seemingly enter down into the floor and underworld of the church, as it rises back up and down again an ominous shadow breathes in and out. Both works although inspired by recent mining accidents in Chile and New Zealand offer no direct commentary or obvious narrative in relation to these events, although this is a nice cultural link the ambiguity of their origin frees the works to operate and act as redeemers in another context such as this show.

The enormity of the references in a building like this and the consequence it has on any work being showed here can be hard to move on from. It takes a brave set of artists to choose to work within such a highly loaded space. Many artists attempt to work within churches or reference religion in their work, unfortunately all too often in a far too literal way. What a relief then, the works in this show are not this. No shame or guilt here if you are a visiting atheist since the works themselves pull you in and welcome you to engage with them whether you’re devout or otherwise. Traditionally the church is about toeing the line yet these works are experimental and challenge the status quo, making for an enjoyable tension.

Many ideas are explored here from memory, the everlasting, other- worldliness, sci-fi and the ephemeral. We are also prompted through the forms on offer to work on many levels, conceptually, intuitively and interrogate things with full engagement incase we miss something, like sieving for gold.

Maybe religious art is forever on the decline but churches as art galleries is a good direction for contemporary art to inhabit and explore, churches offer a place for contemplation, peace and introspection after all. It is the wisdom of the artist as well as God that can now offer us pause for thought and reflection inside these commanding buildings.

Ordinary Time
Saint Barnabas Church, Dalston, Shacklewell Row, Hackney, E8 4EA
10th-16th February 2011
Holly Birtles / EA Byrne / Liza Cucco / Daniel Curtis / Jenny Evans / Alistair Gordon / Alexandra Hughes / Jamie Lau / Oliver HV Mezger / Petrina Ng / Áine O’Dwyer / Toby Owen / Holly Slingsby / Joe Townend

Alexandra Hughes (left)
Studies from St. Barnabas
2011

Jamie Lau (right)
Committee
2011

The Magik of Dirk Bell @ The Modern Institute in Glasgow

Review by Alistair Quietsch

Dirk Bell’s work is a diverse mix of masterly observed drawings, minimalist sculpture and an artistic play with technology. Upon entering the show there is a large mix of objects to piece together. Darkly toned paintings of rotten apples looking like organs juxtaposed against a seemingly rigid large steel grid pattern. Two skilfully drawn eyes avoid each others gaze in the far corner while a giant striplight star structure clicks and fizzes governing the centre of the space, humming off an irresistible omnipresent sleekness. It is this piece that truly adds the ambience to the show, its presence dominates the space and intrigues onlookers, with its immaculate black and white sheen of steel and glass.

In the space, Bell is playing with various themes, all core to the human condition: belief, myth, society, freedom and love. It is through these themes that the work’s ambiguity begins to shed away and a more connected body forms. On first impressions it can come across as a ragtag collection of pristine metal work and shabby found materials, of old dirty doors and lazy canvas draping all banded together in a white cube space. But look closer and suddenly there is a nude posing, elegantly drawn by erasing dirt from the shabby door. Two apples eaten away at the core hug one another in a yin-yang style pairing, wrinkly and somehow pleasingly real. It all begins to fall into place when the large metal grids, no longer some coldly executed minimalist throwback, suddenly appear to spell FREEDOM and another smaller cube spells LOVE like a clever take on the Robert Indiana sculptures.

You would think there is the risk of the work coming across as kitsch, especially with such hippie themes such as love and freedom but Bell’s clever balance of darkness and concept thankfully make the pieces more powerful than soppy.

However it is in the giant striplight sculpture, that sits atonally Om-ing, that the current of Bell’s efforts seem to have adeptly flown, which also securely breaks him away from any kind of bland posing. Stood on a slight stage a laptop sits seemingly playing through various images on a 3 Dimensional replica of the exhibition space. Running out from it are wires connecting it to a PA system, speakers, and a snare drum. From this drum thicker black wires feed the giant star in a Matrix style winding and eerie weaving of black and white tubes. The stuff of sci-fi fans dreams. Titled Merkaba, the piece is a complex comment on technology (even going as far as to say gamer culture), society and religion. Through the laptop the viewer is invited to enter the video game where the objective is to collect and gain “LOVE” and “FREEDOM” as they float around in the on screen 3 Dimensional replica. As you collect each keyword an Eastern monastery style chime follows and lights flicker within the star.

The intelligence behind the piece is not only in its laborious production but also in its play with concepts. It appears to be a sharp comment on some video games that play with the idea of society, The Sims and World of Warcraft to name a few, where the root objective is always to collect goals and therefore ascend to a higher level within the game. In terms of The Sims this is through making friends, keeping your character happy by letting them play, eat, sleep and interact with others, essentially mirrored in Bell’s collecting of LOVE and FREEDOM as if they were commodities that could be picked up at a shopping centre. Through this there is the parody that if you have collected enough LOVE and FREEDOM you will ascend to some other plane. In the game you are bumped around in the basic graphics until you finally begin to well up into the sky. To accentuate this the title of the piece, and the Jewish Star of David shape, points directly to this idea of ascension. In Kabbalah studies the Merkaba is the chariot of God and through the decoding of the Ezekiel passages the reader can learn the secrets of creation and eventually reach an ascended status. Through Dirk Bell’s play with technology he has adapted this myth into our current consumer culture and plays it off well, possibly mockingly, in his giant Star to Enlightenment.

Generally the work seems to be planted firmly in the esoteric myths of the Greeks, Jews and Christians: the stuff of Crowley books and Kabbalah, but each with an interesting contemporary reinvention. It is safe to say that Bell is a very Gothic artist (perhaps a trait of his Germanic birthplace) both in his Da Vinci level of rendering but also in his steady grasp of spiritual themes and overall dark motif. There is also the level of conceptual probing within the very broad themes of the show, with the CCA and Bell having even devoted the entire upper half of his show to allowing philosopher Marcus Steinwen to set up analytic diagrams breaking down complex webs of theory regarding art, societies, truth and being.

It could be a criticism that the work is grounded in the place of fantasy; of magic and spells, and some may be put off with the work that Bell creates around these themes, but I would say it is refreshing to see a show that is not just a sarcastic self-reference to the art world. It plays on the wide range of folklore and creativity that has gone into the cannon of human spirits and makes the world seem a bit more magical instead of just mechanical.

For more information on the forthcoming programme at The Modern Institute please visit www.themoderninstitute.com

Image:
Installation View, The Modern Institute/Toby Webster Ltd, Glasgow, 2011

Invocations of the Blank Page @ Spike Island

Review by Regina Papachlimitzou

The quietness and stillness you might generally associate with the blank page is challenged and eventually rejected in the artworks showcased in Spike Island’s Invocations of the Blank Page exhibition. Instead, the potential for meaning latent in a blank page is sharply brought to our attention, accompanied in turn by frustration, obsessive compulsion, the rawness of physical effort and even playfulness.

Anna Molska’s work Perspective takes centre stage: a looping clip shot in the midst of a peaceful snow-covered landscape, whiteness unfolding in all directions under a clear sky. The artist rises, and as she walks toward the vanishing point of the frame a number of ropes tied around her rise also. The artist’s figure becomes the moving centre of the converging lines that both make up and point towards a precarious perspective, at once suggesting and questioning the necessity of a single point from which perspective, and by extent meaning – stem. The agonising physical effort involved in the strife to create meaning on the blankness of the snowy page is accentuated throughout: the artist’s frantic pant, her heaving breath as she struggles to move forward, falls, tries to rise again, is continuously juxtaposed with the landscape stretching indifferently around her. A wisp of blonde hair and a furtive glimpse of bare hands, together with the constant soundtrack of gasping for air, firmly situate the artist in a physical plain, forever on the cusp of reaching something, forever drawn back. Breaking away from the blankness of the page and into meaning, and breaking away from a prescribed meaning and into the blankness that serves as the point of departure for creativity, are interchangeable, the film seems to suggest. The sudden and unforgiving sound of ropes snapping signals the breakdown of the narrative; and yet, the artist still struggles to move forward, coughs and falls. Over the deafening sound of rasping breath, the work plunges into darkness.

To the left of the screen is mounted Ignacio Uriarte’s Blocs: at once peaceful and manic, the undulating landscape of a pair of notepads greets you, their surface torn and mangled with admirable precision. The result is an uncomfortable testimony to the tedium of 9 to 5 office jobs: the fact that plain and ordinary office materials could be used to make unusual, resonating art seems to imply, by extension, that time spent in the office could also be used more creatively. However, at the same time Blocs acts as a hopeful reminder of the fact that art is rarely – if ever – born out of thin air, or created within the confines of an isolated creative sphere: rather, artistic expression is inextricably linked to everyday experience, tedious though that may, at times, be.

The exhibition comprises other works, including Gareth Long’s Work in Progress, a looping depiction of Daffy Duck apparently sentenced to suffer from writer’s block in perpetuity; Vlatka Horvat’s Pages (Repaired), a series of pages torn up and put together again, sometimes with order and precision and other times with the pathos of broken glass painfully reassembled; and Martin Creed’s Work No. 88: A Sheet of A4 Paper Crumpled into a Ball, which could serve as a synopsis of the preoccupation behind all the works: the tension between nothingness and meaning, and the struggle to achieve the transition from one to the next.

Invocations of the Blank Page revisits, in a manner at the same time playful and urgent, that staple and starting point of creativity: the blank page. In addition to the emphasis placed on the actual physical material necessary to produce art, the exhibition repeatedly puts forward the argument that a page can not only serve as a vehicle of artistic production but also, in and of itself, the final result. In a digital age, the urgency of the exhibition’s appeal to reconsider the importance of materiality in human experience and to revaluate its significance is particularly poignant. In the works, the page and some of its potential are in turn hidden, emerging, revealed, violently displayed; tossed away.

Invocations of the Blank Page continues until Sunday 10 April 2011, at Spike Island in Bristol.

Invocations of the Black Page installation Spike Island, works left to right:
Anna Molska, Perspective, 2008 Video: 1:31, colour, sound Courtesy the artist & Broadway 1602, New York
Ignacio Uriarte, Blocs, 2010 A4 paper, 32x21cm Courtesy the artist & Nogueras Blanchard, Barcelona
Vlatka Horvat, Pages (Repaired), 2009 Letter-size/A4 paper, artist tape, 8.75x11.75 inches each approximately Courtesy the artist
Martin Creed, Work No.88 ‘A sheet of A4 paper Crumpled into a Ball’, 1995 A4 paper, approximately 2in/5.1cm diameter Courtesy the artist & Hauser & Wirth, London