Now You See Me, Now You Don't

There’s something absurd, joyous and uplifting about Saudi artist Manal AlDowayan’s temporary landscape installation Now You See Me, Now You Don’t (2020). Situated in the desert of Al-Ula, Saudi Arabia, for the Desert X festival, it’s basically a series of 12 trampolines dug into the ground where people could lie on them, jump on them—have fun. Yet the installation is a serious dialogue with the environment, its desertification and the impending water crisis the country faces with the prediction it only has 13 more years of groundwater reserves left. The trampolines represent puddles of water, an incongruous sight in the middle of a desert, more akin to an oasis. AlDowayan says this about the installation:

"Puddles are humble, beautiful things, and they used to have a longer life on Earth. Al Ula was founded because it had plentiful springs, it was this oasis in the desert, but as the climate changed these local communities had to start tapping into the underground reserves, so even when it does rain, puddles disappear almost instantly."

And, “In the evening they become Moon Circles through a series of lighting techniques used to create this effect. They are activated by people interacting with them, and through the body and this experience we may reflect on the environment this artwork has been placed in.”

The Book of Everything

Last night I reread a story written by Dutch children’s book author, Guus Kuijer, The Book of Everything (translated by John Nieuwenhuizen). It’s been a while since the last time I read it, but it left such an impression, I’ve never forgotten it. It’s a story about a family, set not long after WWII in Holland, and told by 9 year-old Thomas who sees what most people do not.

He sees swordfish swimming in the canal; he sees the witch who lives next door and who fought in the Resistance; he sees Jesus who befriends Thomas and visits regularly; he sees frogs inundating the street and coming through the letterbox; he sees the beauty in his sister’s friend Eliza with her leather prosthetic leg and hand with only one finger; he sees the undercurrent of fear in his family and how his father abuses his mother, himself and his sister. He sees the magic and wonder of the world and the darkness as well and writes it all down. It’s a heartbreaking tale of domestic violence, but is elevating in its humanity, humour and ultimate goodness, told in poetic, simple prose.

It’s a story where love overcomes fear; where kindness and compassion triumphs over meanness and closed-mindedness; and where bringing what is kept hidden behind closed doors to light transmutes it into truth that can be known and understood without shame or terror. It’s a short story with a big heart and a world-widening view, and I simply love it.

And when the witch next door, Mrs Van Amersfoot asks Thomas in one of their encounters, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Thomas says, “Happy…When I grow up, I am going to be happy.”  And Mrs Van Amersfoot responds, “That’s a bloody good idea. And do you know how happiness begins? It begins with no longer being afraid.”

A story of clouds

Artwork: Cornelia Parker, Avoided Object Photographs of the sky above the Imperial War Museum, London, 1999

How do we confer meaning onto an artwork? Often it’s a confluence of unique factors and dependent on the individual viewing/experiencing the work. Take this photograph for instance, one of a series of four, created by British artist Cornelia Parker of clouds above the Imperial War Museum in London in 1999. Aesthetically it appears ominous, potentially rain clouds, overcast, heavy and dark. There’s  even a hint of foreboding, that sense of a shift in atmosphere where a change in weather seems inevitable. Yet it’s the story behind the creation of the image that truly casts a more disturbing interpretation or impression. 

Housed in the museum Parker discovered a camera belonging to Auschwitz Commandant Rudolf Höss. Parker was given permission to put film in the camera and take it outside the museum. Parker said this about the experience:

“I asked the Imperial War Museum if I could use the camera that belonged to Rudolf Höss, the Commandant of Auschwitz. He used it to photograph his family. Who knows if it recorded the horrors of the prison camp too? I was allowed to take the camera outside the museum and photograph the sky. Capturing the clouds seemed appropriate. It was a way of averting my mind from the fact I was looking through the same aperture as a mass murderer. The camera was loaded with infrared film, making the resulting image appear more sinister than benign.”

A simple image, a seemingly innocuous subject, and yet the story and correlation of events in the photograph’s making gives these clouds a slanted, uneasy, even menacing meaning by association with a horrific past, person and place.

The story behind it becomes the bridge between the recent and historical past, with the subject and potential interpretations, and with the artist and the audience. Imagination also plays a critical role in making the leaps and connections that shapes interpretation.

Otherwise, they’re simply clouds.

Cymbal Rush

Lately I’ve had this spacey track by Thom Yorke on repeat, Cymbal Rush, The Field Late Night Essen Remix from The Eraser RMXS. Check it out.

From the Known to the Unknown

Artwork: Wolfgang Laib, From the Known to the Unknown, Barjac, France

Anselm Kiefer has opened his incredible studio complex in Barjac in southern France, featuring indoor and outdoor installations, to the public as well as inviting artists to create work. In 2014 Wolfgang Laib was commissioned to create a permanent installation at La Ribaute, From the Known to the Unknown—To Where is Your Oracle Leading You. It is a 40-meter-long wax corridor lit only by bare lightbulbs, encouraging the viewer to experience a meditative state through the warm, golden lighting and smell of beeswax.

The installation took four years to complete, and Laib wrote this letter regarding the project:

“In this endless underground labyrinth of corridors, spaces, cryptes, tunnels with incredible artworks—
You suddenly come down the stairs into a chamber with beeswax—40m long, simply lit with some bulbs.
I normally never refer to historical themes, but as Anselm mostly does—this wax chamber with its shape refers to the corridor in Cumae near Naples in Italy—
The oracle of Sibyl of Cumae

From the known to the unknown
And from the unknown to the known…..

What an incredible work together of two artists—
What a pity that this is so rare in our contemporary art world.
Anselm can do what I cannot do—
And I can do what he cannot do.
And together it becomes so much more.
The two worlds give so much to each other.
And then we will continue this with Anselm’s painting ‘la clarté qui tombe des étoiles’
In the forest near my studio in southern Germany”

(Laib, 2021)

safe space

Photograph: Nick Cave and Susie Bick by Polly Borland

In the latest Redhand Files letter, Nick Cave responds to the questions: Do you have a safe space? How would you describe it?

This is Nick’s answer and it’s beautiful:

Dear Arianna,

Safe spaces these days feel hard to come by – the world, in its nature, feels precarious and unsafe. But, after thinking about it for a while, I arrived at an answer which is probably kind of corny and influenced by the fact that, at the time of writing, I have been on tour for six weeks and, well, I miss my wife. My answer also involves a happy and serendipitous accident upon which the life I live now is built – having found a partner who loves me and whom I love. I understand that, in this regard, I am extraordinarily fortunate, and hugely privileged. I am happily married. 

But my 'safe space' is not the marriage itself. Far from it. A marriage is many things, and barely any of them are safe. A marriage, at its best, is challenging, dangerous, complicated and meaningful, and requires, like anything of true value, a certain amount of sacrifice and a certain amount of work. Inside it exists sorrows and joys, both big and small, and failures and triumphs too. But within this complex marital vortex there is, for me, a constant that never waivers – and here lies my safe space. My safe space is in the regard of my wife’s gaze. By this I mean when I look into the eyes of my wife I find a beauty, and this beauty has a moral value, of goodness; a goodness that manifests as a kind of benevolence. And that goodness reflects back and elicits my own goodness and, in turn, the necessary goodness of the world. Within this incoming and outpouring of reciprocal regard lies our mutual protection which is my saving and my wife’s saving. Put simply, we see each other, and through that seeing we want the best for each other, without condition – she has me and I have her. There, in the benevolent eyes of my wife, is my safest space and my truest privilege.

Love, Nick

Make Art

Artwork: Paste-up by @adidafallenangel, Montreal, 2018

Make Art. Live Free. Love Life.

I’ve posted this before, but I saw it again today and it’s simply great advice from @adidafallenangel 😊

imaginary girl

Artwork: by @imagianryduck77, Israel, 2022

Whimsical artwork by @imaginaryduck77: “Another imaginary girl observing the world with her pet 😊”

"These writings, when burned, will finally cast a little light"

Artwork: Anselm Kiefer, Questi scritti, quando verranno bruciati, daranno finalmente un po’ di luce (These writings, when burned, will finally cast a little light), Palazzo Ducale, Venice, 2022

In yet another wonderful satellite exhibition at the 59th Venice Biennale, Anselm Kiefer was commissioned to create a series of works for the Sala dello Scrutinio in the Palazzo Ducale (Doge’s Palace). It is a series commemorating the 1,600 anniversary of Venice, reflecting on its history, and the title is taken from the words of Venetian philosopher, Andrea Emo (1901-83), Questi scritti, quando verranno bruciati, daranno finalmente un po’ di luce (These writings, when burned, will finally cast a little light).

Artwork: Anselm Kiefer, Questi scritti, quando verranno bruciati, daranno finalmente un po’ di luce (These writings, when burned, will finally cast a little light), Palazzo Ducale, Venice, 2022

The paintings are full of fire and light—illumination; the earth and intimations of heaven; with references to burned books and sticks (charcoal), the written word, the passage of trade from East and West, the empty casket of the patron saint of St. Mark, to the fires of 1577 that damaged the palace located in the Piazza San Marco. Fire is synonymous with destruction and creation; the cycle of life, death and rebirth; a process of transformation and illumination as the title of the exhibition suggests. Kiefer’s paintings also speak to the artistic history of Venice, his own work temporarily affixed over frescoes created by Tintoretto and Jacobo Palma the Younger, such that the past and present, memory and history are layered, a complex tapestry of time, erasure, remembering and forgetting.     

follow the white rabbit

Artwork: mural, Rabbit Hole, by @seth_globapainter, 2022

Brilliant mural by @seth_globepainter—follow the white rabbit down that rabbit hole…🐇

The plastic we live with

Artwork: Installation by Luzinterruptus, The plastic we live with, Suzhou Grand Canal, China, 2022

Figuring out what’s fake or real these days is challenging. Having done my own research (hint—follow the money and people/corporations behind news, agendas and causes that will profit or gain something from their support) a “real” environmental problem is plastic pollution.

The most recent public intervention in China by the anonymous artistic group from Spain, Luzinterruptus, highlights this issue (I also wrote another post on a similar theme regarding their work, Plastic Waste Labyrinth). The installation is called The plastic we live with, and was created for the I Paint Suzhou Festival in China. The signature features of the installation include their use of raw materials—plastic bags—and light, which literally sheds light on the issue of the prevalence of plastic waste that we live with today. And it raises the question: What are we going to do about it?

Eleven is back!

Stranger Things 4 was recently released and I devoured it and feel pretty pissed at having to wait until July for the last 2 episodes. However the series is a huge fave of mine so I’ll suck it up, and I was hooked from the start of this season that wasted no time diving back into the Upside Down, getting gory and dark real quick. There’s always the balance of humour and goofiness, but the gang from Hawkins and their allies are facing straight-up evil off the bat.

Stranger Things is a classic story of dark and light, and how extraordinary powers can be used for evil or good. It’s a story of friendship and change, and the willingness to embrace imagination in order to confront true darkness and what seems improbable. It’s also about the need for a moral compass that allows the distinction between right action and those actions that can do harm to others, and how skewed that gets in the hands of people devoid of empathy and who cross lines to use and abuse exceptional power. And it’s a story about love and the kind of bravery that means you’ll go to any lengths to help those you care about it. I loved the series from the beginning and this season evolves wonderfully in unexpected ways.

And Eleven is still a brilliant, badass hero.

Orwell

Make Orwell Fiction Again…Kind of perfect seeing this on my way to vote in the federal election today 😝

burn shine fly

Artwork: Ugo Rondinone, burn shine fly, Venice, 2022

Another great satellite exhibition featured alongside the 59th Venice Biennale is New York based artist Ugo Rondinone’s burn shine fly at the Scuola Grande San Giovanni Evangelista. What is truly magical are the cloud/sky body sculptures falling/flying from the ceiling of the nave of the church. They are life-sized casts of dancers. In the context of a sacred space, it is akin to bringing the heavens that much closer to earth and humanity, as well as the merging of the human body with the elements of air and water. Beings of the heavens, but also of this world.

 Rondinone said this about the project:

 “The sculptures in ‘burn shine fly’ aims to engender an altogether contemporary version of the sublime, one in which the smallest candle sculpture is of no less consequence than the overarching totality of the sun sculpture or the stellar marriage of the earthbound body with the waterfilled sky. The work should dazzle us and send us into a deep reflection about the marvels and mysteries of life.” 

Down The Rabbit Hole

Artwork: by @wrdsmth and @ami_imaginaire_streetart

Currently reading Alice in Wonderland—the last two years feels like one long fall down a rabbit hole—so this “wonderful” collaboration between @wrdsmth and @ami_imaginaire_streetart seems pretty appropriate.

be awesome

Walking around the city on Friday and spied this worn-out paste-up…please be awesome. Made me smile. 😊

Life Forms

Artwork: Kelly Akashi, Vesica Piscis, 2022

Kelly Akashi’s art is exquisite, and it’s wonderful to see it currently showcased in an exhibition in Venice at the newly opened Barbati Gallery titled Life Forms. I’ve written two art stories on her work, and the pieces featured in this exhibition express much of what fascinates me about her art: the passage and ephemerality of time; the use of alchemical processes such as glass blowing and wax casting; the transformation of materials and forms; the melding of human, plant and animal worlds; the insertion of her own body, often hands, symbolising the act of creation and the continual creating of the self through this very act; a tension between fragility and a sense of loss, and ultimately the mysterious and intangible quality of her artwork. 

The Nature of the Game

Francis Alÿs Children’s Game #20: Leapfrog Nerkzlia, Iraq, 2018; 5:53 min; in collaboration with Ivan Boccara, Julien Devaux, and Félix Blume

The 59th Venice Biennale opened to the public yesterday curated around the main theme: The Milk of Dreams. Having been to the Biennale it’s quite overwhelming: what to see, focus on, navigating crowds, the various pavilions, satellite exhibitions and different locations, especially if you’re under a tight time schedule. But if I were going this year I’d make a beeline for the Belgium Pavilion and Francis Alÿs’s exhibition The Nature of the Game. 

Since 1999 Alÿs, who was born in Antwerp but lives in Mexico, has been documenting children’s games, beginning with Children’s Game #1: Caracoles, showing a young boy kicking a bottle up a steep street, only to let it roll back to him and then kicking it up again. The current exhibition features a video from 2017—as well as more recent works—Children’s Games #19: Haram Soccer, where young boys play a game that is banned in areas controlled by the Islamic State. Alÿs created this video while he was embedded in the Kurdish Army for nine days on the front lines of Mosul, and he had this to say of the experience: “There is something peculiar about the times we live in, and with them, a different expectation of the artist’s role. When the structure of a society collapses, when politicians and media have lost credit and terror invades daily life, society turns toward culture in pursuit of answers.”

Through documenting how kids play from various countries in the world, Alÿs’s poetic and politically incisive work explores how human’s live: adapting to limited resources and adverse conditions, showcasing amazing ingenuity, cultural traditions, cooperation as well as competition, and the simple joy at playing the game, of being alive in the present.