Showing posts with label installation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label installation. Show all posts

Friday, 17 December 2010

Saturday, 29 May 2010

Margaret Sharrow



Image: Guggenheim intervention (exterior), © Margaret Sharrow 2010

All images this site copyright Margaret Sharrow, 2008-2010, unless otherwise noted

Ai Weiwei, 'Sunflower Seeds', Tate Modern: a second look



Photo: Margaret Sharrow, 2011

Six months on, the hundred thousand sit, wait patiently. Only the ones on top are seen, and a few at the edges are all that can be examined in any detail. The rest are invisible, but known, present.

I have already reviewed this installation close to its opening, and now, having revisited it, I continue my tradition of reviewing exhibitions near their closing dates.

The seeds extend over a huge area, like a grey carpet when seen from a distance. It is possible to walk along one side, for the length of the installation. This is the compromise. After the first few euphoric days of the installation when the public walked over the seeds and could pick them up, as Ai intended, the gallery, in consultation with Ai, decided to keep the public off the installation because of the lead dust rising up. Of course the workers making the seeds, although some wore face masks, must have been exposed to far more dust.

On this visit, having more time, I was able to learn more about these workers. Adjacent to the installation are a video documentary with seating area, and a room of touch screens where you can post a video question or answer to Ai Weiwei, in either English or Chinese.


Photo of Tate documentary, Margaret Sharrow, 2011

The documentary shows the stages of production of the sunflower seeds, in the Chinese town of Jingdezhen, which has for seventeen hundred year been producing porcelain for Chinese emperors. First the kaolin is mined: men are shown pushing rail carts filled with huge chunks of the stuff out of the earth by hand, as if Welsh coal miners of the nineteenth century. Then the rocks are ground by log spikes powered by a waterwheel, again reminiscent of nineteenth century Wales. After a mechanical mixing process, the porcelain is poured into moulds that produce around two dozen seeds at once, growing like berries off a central stalk. Removed from their stalks, fired in the glorious sunset light of a large kiln, and sorted, they are ready for the ladies who paint the stripes, either in factories with groups of women at a number of tables, or production at home, with families working for short time periods in between childcare and cooking. A bit of tumbling, to give a more natural finish, then the seeds are packed in enormous sacks ready for shipping to the gallery, where they are spread around on the floor by facemasked assistants with rakes, as if tending a Japanese wabi sabi style garden. Throughout Ai is shown overseeing, photo documenting, chatting, interacting, and generally hanging around. He says that the Chinese workers, though delighted to have the work, really didn't understand what the seeds were for, and couldn't conceive of them as forming an art installation. Does it matter if the workers making the piece don't understand what it is for? Does it matter if people looking at the installation don't understand it? Does it matter if they understand it, but don't like it? Ai accepts the incomprehension of the porcelain workers, who, unlike Tate visitors, are not living in a local culture with a place for contemporary art. He says in the documentary, 'I always think art is a tool to set up new questions. To create a basic structure which can be open to possibilities is the most interesting part of my work. I want people who don't understand art to understand what I'm doing.' Here he trails off into a wordless reverie. Most of us wandering Tate Modern won't have memories of Mao represented as the sun to whom all the people, seen as sunflowers, turn for sustenance, or even of sharing unshelled sunflower seeds as a snack. But most of the visitors to Tate Modern would have the experience of crossing the Millennium Bridge, swept along in a never ending current of people, or of cramming themselves into the last possible space on a full Tube, ducking head to avoid decapitation by the slam of impersonal curved doors. One of many, many, many... yet each individual. Handcrafted, you might even say. I was distressed to hear on the radio this morning (4 April 2011) that Ai has again run into difficulties with the Chinese authorities, this time being stopped as he attempted to fly to Hong Kong. He may be unable to respond to tweets and video postings for a while.


Ai Weiwei, 'Sunflower Seeds', Turbine Hall, Tate Modern, London, 12 October 2010 – 2 May 2011

More photographs of the exhibition and its interpretation on my Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Margaret-Sharrow/48770277575

You can view the documentary at the Tate website, http://www.tate.org.uk/modern/exhibitions/unileverseries2010/room3.shtm


Ai Weiwei answers the public’s questions, and asks some of his own http://aiweiwei.tate.org.uk/


Ai Weiwei news link: PBS Newshour, 4 April 2011 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFDtMVlJCHI

Guardian video interview with Ai Weiwei, 'Life is never guaranteed to be safe', 18 March 2010 http://gu.com/p/2fgav

Katie Paterson at Haunch of Venison: more images

















































All photographs are installation views and many are details.
Copyright of the images remains with the artist Katie Paterson.
Photographs by Margaret Sharrow, 2010


Found footage: Otolith Group at the Turner Prize 2010















Photos of Otolith Group at Turner Prize 2010 exhibition, copyright Oli Scarff/Getty Images

I came to this year's Turner Prize exhibition with an uneven knowledge base, having seen Dexter Dalwood's exhibition at Tate St Ives this spring (the exhibition for which he was nominated - some of the works shown at the Turner Prize exhibition are from this show, others are not), but knowing nothing of the work of the other nominees. I was immediately captivated by the Otolith Group's presentation, a dark room after the light of Dalwood's, filled with a series of thirteen televisions and a single large projection screen, with accompanying round table with tiny anglepoise lamps and plenty of black plastic chairs. On the walls are stencilled quotations by Chris Marker. (The Otolith Group is 'an artist led collective' founded by Anjalika Sagar and Kodwo Eshun. The book on the table presents Chris Marker as if he might be a member of the Otolith Group, which is not the case, as far as I can tell. Just as well, because, born 1921, he is surely too old to be a collaborator for the Turner Prize, the current rules for which state the nominees must be under the age of 50.)

The film, Otolith III, is largely composed of clips from black and white Indian films of the 1960's and 70's, with new colour footage and voiceovers added to weave together a series of narratives, of which more later. The smaller screens simultaneously play the thirteen episodes of a television series on the legacy of ancient Greece originally broadcast in France in 1989, The Owl's Legacy by Chris Marker, retitled by the Otolith Group as 'Inner Time of Television'. The programmes can be viewed individually using headphones, or collectively as an installation, as all are subtitled. As far as I can tell no alteration has been made to the content of the original programmes; they are simply re-presented, as it says in the catalogue on the table, as an opportunity for a new audience to see this hard-to-find television series.














Now it might seem that anyone could choose their favourite television series, arrange one player for each and have a sort of simultaneous 'box set fest' (though what people actually do is to watch their episodes sequentially on a single screen). So why is this presentation art? Aside from falling back on the notion, famously propounded by readings of Marcel Duchamp's 1917 Fountain and other 'readymades', that anything can be considered a work of art, especially if placed in the setting of a gallery, I initially struggled a little myself once I realised that the Otolith Group had not themselves made the programmes on the 13 screens. However, the images were individually captivating. Headshots of interviewees, usually dully located in academic offices as was the norm in this period of television, were juxtaposed by chromakey against backgrounds of art objects, particularly owls. The episodes could be watched individually with headphones, but because of the subtitles, it was possible to view the whole simultaneously, and to notice juxtapositions and repetitions between the episodes. The whole thus becomes more than the sum of its parts, though the parts, as the catalogue asserts, are a kind of television rare in its time, and not produced any more, in terms of its scope and associative linking. I haven't explored the full depths of this, as most of my time was focused on the film, detailed below (but if I manage another visit and watch one or more episodes straight through, I will certainly report my impressions here).

The description of 'Otolith III' that follows contains spoilers - although not in relation to a conventional plot

Otolith III is a film very similar to Fellini's in that it is about the process of making a film. The characters confront the director in turn, asking 'Why haven't you made the film yet? Why did you leave us trapped in the village?' The director asserts that it is 'a project I don't believe in anymore, a mistake'. The same story is told over and over in each section, each from the point of view of a different character (the boy, the reporter, the engineer, and others), but also from the point of view of the director, who contemplates casting possible actors from footage of members of the public, seen in slow motion colour film through a long lens. The story is told mainly in voiceover, over clips from a range of black and white Indian films from the 1960s and 1970s. Though disparate clips are ever changing, meanings are anchored to them from the voiceover. After a while the same clips appear again and again, with different shades of meaning given by the different characters. The story of the unmade film revolves around the encounter of the boy with a Martian; the frequent effect is that the footage, whether black and white or colour, appears as if from a detached viewpoint, as if we are seeing the behaviour of our own species as if we are another engaged in some sort of scientific study. This effect may not be so strong if one is familiar with the Indian film clips, which are from the arthouse tradition rather than the Bollywood: undoubtedly knowledge of the contexts of these clips opens up whole other levels of meanings, which interact in turn with the titles of the books on bookshelves the camera pans over during the credits, suggesting a survey of art, literature, science and philosophy, that is, thinking of this 'alien' human species.

A title interjected with footage of children playing seemed to sum up the crux of film:

THROUGH THE MYTH OF THE MARTIAN A WHOLE HISTORY IN EXTERIORITY CONSTITUTES US AS COSMIC INDIVIDUALS THIS HISTORY IS MADE UP OF TRAPS AND AMBUSHES REVEALING THE CHARACTER OF MAN TO BE AN IDIOSYNCRASY PRODUCED BY THE COSMOS ITSELF

The whole idea of the Martian, or the 'alien', can be taken as a metaphor for a person of one culture being plunged into another, with all the bewilderment that entails. Indeed the Otolith Group position themselves as 'tricontinental', and the viewer unfamiliar with Indian arthouse films of the 1960s and 1970s has some sort of experience of cultural dislocation in viewing this film.

There's plenty to engage with here, and even if you don't 'see everything' it is easy to spend an hour just in the Otolith Group room, plus however long one might spend with the other artists on the shortlist (who it might be said tend to get short shrift in terms of visitor time). However, if you are uncomfortable with films that don't present an immediately obvious narrative, I'd recommend you challenge yourself here for as long as you feel able, knowing that upon leaving the Turner Prize there is the reward of something much more straightforward in the form of Doug Fishbone's Elmina, just to the right of the Turner Prize gift shop. Oh, and the four short documentaries about the nominated artist, that play at the end of the Turner Prize exhibition. In which Kodwo Eshun of the Otolith Group says that the world doesn't need any more films, so that anyone who makes a film had better have something important to say. Otolith III is worth teasing out, as it certainly deals with some fundamental issues.

The Turner Prize exhibition continues at Tate Britain 5 October 2010 - 3 January 2011. Admission charge £8 / £6 concessions, free for Tate members.

23 November 2010

Turner Prize visiting info

Otolith Group Turner Prize documentary

Otolith Group web page

A Long Time Between Suns, the exhibition for which the Otolith Group were nominated for the Turner Prize

The Owl's Legacy (more about it, with a clip here)

Please vote for me to become the official blogger / artist for an expedition to the North Pole!

Margaret Sharrow explores contemporary art, 3 November

Lampeter artist Margaret Sharrow continues her popular series of illustrated talks with 'Exploring Contemporary Art' on Wednesday 3 November at 1:00 - 2:00 pm at the Lampeter Women's Workshop.

Following the success of her 'Looking at Art' talk in September, Margaret has agreed to return for another session.

'The last talk was a very quick tour of European art from 1300 to the early 1960's, looking at themes such as the drive towards perspective, the subtraction of various rules and expectations from painting, and the emergence of new forms including conceptual art and installation,' says Sharrow.

'"Exploring Contemporary Art" will pick up where I left off, and deal with a few of the main trends in contemporary art,’ she continues. ‘It's also a chance for me to share my enthusiasm for some of the artists and exhibitions I've enjoyed in the last couple of years, including a selection of work from 2010 degree shows.’

The talk will be followed by an informal discussion, and Margaret will also show some of her current work in progress.

The Lampeter Women's Workshop runs on Wednesdays during school term time at St James Hall, Cwmann, on the Carmarthen road. All women aged 16 and up are welcome. The day begins at 10:30 am with a gentle exercise class, group discussion and lunch at 12 noon, with a different activity each week beginning at 1:00 pm. The X40 bus stops at the hall on request. Cost of £2.50 includes lunch. For more information, see http://www.bbc.co.uk/wales/mid/sites/lampeter/pages/womens_workshop.shtml.

The previous talk 'Looking at Art', 29 September

7 October 2010

Margaret Sharrow's talk, 'Looking at art' - or how did we get to contemporary art?

Baffled, amused, or enraged by what's in galleries today? On Wednesday 29 September artist Margaret Sharrow will be giving an illustrated talk and discussion called 'Looking at art' - a friendly way into enjoying contemporary art. The event will take place at the Lampeter Women's Workshop, 10-3 pm, St James' Hall, Cwmann, on the Carmarthen road just outside Lampeter. All women aged 16 and over warmly welcome. £2.50 includes shared lunch, and the talk and discussion begin after lunch.

'It's a chance to explore some of the trends in art that have led to exciting contemporary work such as installations, performance art, and what's on at degree shows around the country,' says Sharrow. 'What are artists trying to say, and why are comment cards at the Tate full of statements like, "I could do better!"? Sometimes there's a gap between artists and the public. I'd like to try and bridge it, and to share some of the art that I find exciting.' And for men who'd like to attend? 'I'm sure I'll be giving the talk again, and others like it, at mixed-gender venues in the near future!'

Contact Margaret for booking future talks

More on the Lampeter Women's Workshop

Posted 23 September 2010

The next talk, 'Exploring Contemporary Art', 3 November