Biennale of Sydney Part 3 - Cockatoo Island

My last stop at the Biennale of Sydney had much the same result as my previous visits to other venues. The only difference was that the apathy was on a much larger scale. This time it was an island full of works I found uninteresting, uninspiring or plane irrelevant. And again, it was a real trek (mentally, and this time physically) to find any works that I actually liked, or found interesting. But there were some.

Serge Spitzer’s ‘Molecular (SYDNEY)’ was a simply executed work in which small metal balls randomly covered the floor of the roofless Guard House at the top of Cockatoo Island. While you could not walk into the stone-walled structure, standing at its entrance and gazing down at these thousands of dark grey balls brings about the feeling of vertigo, of falling into and being encompassed by this work. It’s a claustrophobic feeling which starkly juxtaposes with the openness and expanse of the top of the island.

By far the most confronting work I’ve ever encountered is Shen Shaomin’s ‘Summit.’ I couldn’t even walk into this room. Upon approaching the entrance to the black-curtained room, I realised that what lay inside were four corpses and one dying body of the world’s most significant communist leaders. Now of course they were merely life-sized creations arranged in a pentagon shape, having a hypothetical meeting akin to the annual G8 Summit; but the verisimilitude of their forms and the fact that these figures were not presented as living, in their political prime, but rather deceased, relics from the past, was too much for me to handle. I stayed at the entrance, looking from afar, and silently moved on.

My favourite work in the entire biennale has to be Korean artist Choi Jeong Hwa suspended colanders hanging from the ceiling of Building 74 down by the docks of the island. This work, simple in its concept, yet majestic in execution captures the very essence of what contemporary art should be. The biennale text explains that Hwa’s “playful practice comments on the privileged environment of art institutions and questions the prized status of artworks amidst a consumer-frenzied world.” What better objects with which to make such a statement than one of the most overlooked, yet ubiquitous , pieces of the quotidian – colanders. Joined together to create strings of different-shaped balls, the colanders hang delicately from the ceiling to transform the audience from the old abandoned dock building to another, more ethereal place, if only for the briefest of moments as you walk through this enchanting forest of plastic. It’s a beautiful paradox, and one which has universal relevance. [The image show here is of the work on another site. But just imagine it in a warehouse-type setting.]

Overall, however, the over-riding theme of this biennale seems to be, not distance, but rather quantity and scale. With over 400 works, a large percentage of which were video works, this biennale was, in a practical sense, impossible to get through. And though there may be a select group of art aficionados out there with the dedication and patience to sit through all those hours of video works, there is, without a doubt, an overwhelming majority who just would not be bothered. I’m part of the latter. Even Cockatoo Island, a place that technology has long since forgotten, was swarming with video works in the most unlikely of niches and crevices. And while the installation and innovative arrangement of the videos was very unique and impressive, the awe and amazement soon subsided once the works were found. In fact, the act of exploring the island and discovering art works and the unlikely locations of video works was a whole lot more interesting than the works themselves.

This exhibition was touted on the publicity trail as the largest in the series of Sydney Biennales. And it is. But unfortunately, that’s all it has going for it. For it seems that, in the fervour and ambition of trying to create the biggest biennale, artistic director David Elliot forgot about what should have been the more important goal – to create the best compilation of contemporary art works. At this, the 17th Biennale of Sydney has failed. [Image from http://www.boudist.com/. While it is not the image of the artwork  to which I refer, this work, titled 'Hubble Bubble' was placed at the Opera House and is quite similar to the one at Cockatoo Island. It was just bigger.]

Biennale of Sydney Part 2 - Artspace & AGNSW

The Biennale of Sydney is turning out to be quite lacklustre. My second trip was to Artspace at Woolloomooloo and the Art Gallery of NSW, and in both venues I was tremendously underwhelmed.

Artspace offered little more than a disproportionately large amount of long, esoteric, uninspired video works that, let’s face it, no-one is going to sit around for hours on end to watch. One of only two points of interest was situated opposite the entrance, where visitors are confronted by a visually stunning and large scale photo montage by Lebanese artist Lara Baladi. But upon closer inspection, even this struggled to go any deeper than simple collage and pastiche. The other point of interest is the makeshift ‘bar’ setting that is an experimental performance space co-curated by Tokyo’s SuperDeluxe group. One of the main events is the weekly PechaKucha nights where people gather to present thoughts, ideas and good old conversation. It is an interesting project which harnesses the principles of Nicholas Bourriaud’s theory of Relational Aesthetics which posits that the art work only exists with the cooperation and participation of viewers.

A short drive away, the AGNSW hosts a modest display of works by seven Asian artists, all neatly placed in the entrance hall. Again, while the other works weren’t so bad, only two works here managed to really grab my attention. The first was Rabiq Shaw’s ‘The mild-eyed melancholy of the lotus eaters III’, a grand and grandiosely-decorated painting of grotesque anthropomorphic creatures portrayed with stunning vibrancy and flashy metallics. The biennale’s guide writes that, “Despite its deeply historical visual allusions, Shaw’s beautiful treatment of transmogrification in erotic desire can be read as a contemporary allegory of human greed and lust.” While I did not quite pick all this up from one viewing, I still found the violent images, arranged in such stunning fashion, to be visually mesmerising and surreal. On the other hand, Yamaguchi Akira’s sombre, monochromatic cityscapes, painted in traditional Japanese style presents a seamless amalgamation of the duality between East and West in many modern Asian cities. While lacking the brilliant colours and bold imagery of Shaw’s ‘Lotus eaters’ Akira’s paintings communicate just as clearly the intersection between tradition and urbanity with understated style.

Despite these rare gems, disappointment was, once again, the overwhelming result of another visit to the biennale. Predominately a result of vague artwork selections and too many video works. My last stop is Cockatoo Island, apparently the pièce de résistance of the biennale. Hopefully it can salvage my once high hopes for the event. [Images from http://media.biennaleofsydney.com.au/ and http://theartlife.com.au/]

Eminem - Recovery

Eminem’s new album ‘Recovery’ has brought him out of the abyss of washed-up obscurity. After years of problems, which included two mediocre and quite shallow albums, Eminem has come back with a record that is reminiscent of the success and quality of the ‘Marshall Mathers LP’.

The album is rife with the introspection, self-reflexivity and verbal acrobatics that is characteristic of Eminem’s style. Here the artist is harshly honest, to the point of self-deprecation (at one point he refers to himself as ‘the shit stain on the underwear of life’ – I couldn’t help but lol), as he reflects on the demons and absolute lows of his life in recent years, and the more positive transformation he hopes to make with the release of the album, and a new outlook on life. But don’t expect such optimism to be accompanied by happy beats and cheery lyrics. For even in expressing his hopes for the future, Eminem maintains that edgy, ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude that we’ve come to know so well.

The second track, ‘Talkin’ 2 Myself’, is one of the best and most powerful, and sets the tone for the entire record. Like much of the album, the track is deeply confessional as it reveals Eminem’s demons and his deepest darkest thoughts as he was wallowed up in the hole of self pity. It is part internal dialogue, and part address to the public on where Eminem has been and where he intends to go. The song not only recounts the drug-fuelled struggles the artist has had over the years, but also critiques his actions. At one point Eminem admits to having considered writing a song dissing Lil’ Wayne and Kanye West out of pure jealousy, but didn’t because “I’da had my ass handed to me, and I knew it.” But Eminem emerges from the dark abyss, recalling how he finally snapped out of it and said to himself, “instead of feelin’ sorry for yourself do somethin’ ‘bout it / admit you got a problem, your brain is clouded you pouted / long enough, it isn’t them it’s you you fuckin’ baby / quit worryin’ about what they do and do Shady.” The song fittingly ends with the proclamation “to everybody else...I’m back!”

This is truly one of the great comeback albums. Not only does it contain the very necessary commercial appeal, through collaborations with some very big names, but it also has the much more important ingredients of real creativity and honest song writing that makes an artistically successful record. Some songs are uncomfortably confessional, others are outrageously hilarious in their social commentaries and inversion of the English language, and finally one is a touching tribute to the rapper’s slain friend and band mate Proof. Whatever your thoughts on Eminem and his controversial public image, one cannot deny, particularly after listening to this album, that he is one of those rare artists who can transform internal thoughts into poetic lyrics, and finally into an awesome rap.

[Check out another really good review on the album, http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/music/eminem-recovery-20100625-z98t.html - I think it says it better.]

Biennale of Sydney Part 1 - Museum of Contemporary Arts

This year the Biennale of Sydney is titled, ‘The Beauty of Distance: Songs of Survival in a Precarious Age’, and its most concentrated venue is the Museum of Contemporary Arts (MCA), down at Circular Quay, which houses 285 works by 92 international and Australian artists. This was an extremely ambitious exhibition site, with all four levels of the museum jam-packed with artworks and visitors. While the large number of visitors is a promising reflection on the success of the event, the equally vast amount of artworks made much of the venue seem overcrowded, thus stripping the exhibition of any real direction, despite the very specific theme.

Indeed, walking through the MCA (one of many venues of the BoS) was like that very familiar experience of walking through a generic, mainstream supermarket (a common metaphor now linked with the experience of many international biennials). I mainly browsed through the aisles, quickly taking in what was on offer – the ordinary ‘fillers’ that take up a lot of shelf space but really are unnecessary – lingered on the interesting items, and only stopped to pick up the really good things. In fact, amongst all 285 works, I only really enjoyed works by three artists, and absolutely detested one.

Christian Jankowski’s ‘Tableaux Vivant’ was one work which absolutely delighted me, and that’s saying a lot given my intolerance for video works. This was a clever, complex, yet humorous exploration into the many processes behind creating a biennale art work. In this, Jankowski has brought together the main television networks, along with some very big names in the art industry, into his quasi-documentary of the creation of this work, ‘Tableaux Vivant.’ The work goes through all the processes of art making in a television context, with real-life journalists reporting on all aspects of the development; from conceptual inception, to filming and editing, publicity, even the mid-work angst an artist feels when they are immersed in their work and can’t find a way out.

Funnily enough, another work that I loved was also a video work, and something very different from Jankowski’s. The artist is Thai-born Araya Rasdjarmrearnsook, and if you think her name is a lot to take in, her video work is even more overwhelming. ‘The Two Planets Series ‘ is enclosed in a room where three walls make up the screens for three different videos playing simultaneously. The clips showThai peasants conversing over canonical works of modern art. Manet’s once-controversial ‘Luncheon on the Grass’ is controversial again, while van Gogh’s ‘The Midday Sleep’ and Millet’s ‘The Gleaners’ elicit conversations about farming, village talent quests and what ‘those people’ do as opposed to ‘us’. The work is an intriguing and unique approach to exploring the whole ‘planet’ of difference between the two worlds of the ‘cultured’ West and the rural East. If not for its revelation of such vast differences, then the work is worth staying and watching just to listen in on the hilarious conversations between the villagers.

Kent Monkman’s beautifully painted and grandly scaled works challenge the very entrenched and deeply distorted Euro-American history of colonialism. These paintings, magnificently composed and encompassing a vast spectrum of natural and artificial colours combine mythical, homo-erotic beings with an appropriated colonial style in a clever parody on the widely-accepted, yet quietly acknowledged one-sided history that such ‘New World’ paintings originally told. Here, the painter’s immense skill is presented with stinging socio-historical commentaries on the traditional ‘Cowboys and Indians’ stories. The paintings are magnificent.

These anomalies aside, the other 280 works in the MCA were mainly interesting at best, ordinary and uninspiring at times, and completely irrelevant at worst. Perhaps I would have found more inspiration in more works if I wasn’t so bombarded by the immense amount of artworks. So far, the over-ambitious scale of the MCA has fallen short of realising the theme of the Biennale. Stay tuned to see what the other venues have in store. [Images from http://www.artnet.com/, http://blog.cofa.unsw.edu.au/, http://bos17.sitesuite.net.au/]