The Unhatched Egg

second hand experience

2012-02-13T18:35:00.000+11:00

or third.

clouds

2012-02-11T18:26:00.000+11:00

It seems that every photographer turns hishead to view the sky at some point. Alfred Stieglitz turned his head skywards whilst in the throes ofpassion with Georgia O’Keefe, the sublime cloudscapes from his Equivalents series a reflection of theecstasy on Earth. One of my supervisorswent so far as to call these his ‘semenal’ works!

Frank Hurley on the other hand had a largecollection of cloud pictures to transform mundane shots into dramatic landscapepictures full of drama. Unfortunately arecent publication put two photographs with identical cloud formations next toeach other... Oops - must have been a favourite.

My favourite is Paul Graham’s Ceasefireseries. Images of the heavens combinedwith notable moments in time. I can justimagine people looking upwards when hearing the announcement of the end ofconflict.

Unfortunately these images below hold nospecial meaning. I took most of thesewhile on a whale watching tour at Coffs Harbour. It seems I was one of few passengers to takesea sickness tablets and while the other passengers sat green faced holdingpaper bags or hanging over the side I wondered round the boat taking picturesof clouds. Like Stieglitz do theseimages reflect the drama below or a banal exploration in the absence of whales?

fox and rug

2011-12-18T22:58:00.000+11:00

Dead fox...

the irrigators

2011-11-19T22:53:00.001+11:00

restless

2011-11-12T19:03:00.001+11:00

The sound of birds, animals and the rustling of leaves outside made it hard to sleep. Every day nature made me restless. Then the mining company came and poisoned the water table. Now nothing grows and the wildlife has moved away. But in the quiet I sleep soundly, a long deep sleep, and only the falling of dead branches breaks the peace.

high level park

2011-11-08T09:10:00.001+11:00

High Line in New York.

Is this the future of pedestrian traffic in large cities? Walking along at high level while the traffic and chaos goes on below. I can imagine that the view from the high rise buildings has been improved and is it a solution to the heat island effect?

Click on the image to read an interesting article on Design Observer. Also try Friends of the High Line.

no swimming

2011-10-30T12:02:00.002+11:00

On a normally ideal day for a swim strange blue shapes litter the beach and appear in the water. Masses of blue bottle jelly fish, with their long trailing blue stingers, make shapes in the sand.

These shapes appear like minimalist abstract paintings.

When I look closer I'm surprised when the inflated sack at the end turns my direction...

catalogue

2011-10-29T14:22:00.000+11:00

Follow the link for the catalogue on the Far Enough exhibition.

Here

images lost in time (6)

2011-10-25T19:13:00.000+11:00

The crowd

far enough

2011-10-08T12:58:00.000+11:00

Invite image by Blaide Lallemand

The Submerged Forest (Whiteness) on display at the Far Enough exhibition in Bega.

mallee

2011-10-08T12:31:00.000+11:00

Invite image by Joseph Mougel

Three works currently showing at the Canberra School of Art Gallery.

what to do with old windows

2011-09-24T18:27:00.000+10:00

Make a house.

Click on the image to get to the original source.

in my backyard

2011-08-18T09:57:00.001+10:00

He looks out the upper floor window.

The boy is bouncing on the trampoline.

Beyond the fence line the machine is rotating, bringing fresh coal to the conveyor and the waiting trucks further back. He wonders about his decision to stay and resist selling the land that has been in his family for more than one hundred years. Now it is an island in the devastation that is the open cut mine. At the location of the house the boundary is close and he knows they are digging deliberately close.

When the boy comes back in he will have to shower again to remove that fine layer of black dust.

Now the crops are failing in the far paddock near where they have started drilling for coal steam gas. He fears that the bore is contaminated. Luckily the house has rainwater.

The man remembers that it is time to change the filter again to remove the blackened residue. For a moment his eyes become glassy and he wonders how long he can hold out.

The boy does a back flip and in the man's mind it seems like an act of defiance.

Stop coal steam gas

whiteness

2011-08-04T16:46:00.000+10:00

“Nor, in some things, does the common, hereditary experience of all mankind fail to bear witness to the supernaturalism of this hue. It cannot well be doubted, that the one visible quality in the aspect of the dead which most appals the gazer, is the marble pallor lingering there; as if indeed that pallor were as much like the badge of consternation in the other world, as of mortal trepidation here. And from that pallor of the dead, we borrow the expressive hue of the shroud in which we wrap them. Nor even in our superstitions do we fail to throw the same snowy mantle round our phantoms; all ghosts rising in a milk-white fog-Yea, while these terrors seize us, let us add, that even the king of terrors, when personified by the evangelist, rides on his pallid horse.”1

“Is it that by its indefiniteness it shadows forth the heartless voids and immensities of the universe, and thus stabs us from behind with the thought of annihilation, when beholding the white depths of the Milky Way? Or is it, that as in essence whiteness is not so much a colour as the visible absence of colour, and at the same time the concrete of all colours; is it for these reasons that there is such a dumb blankness, full of meaning, in a wide landscape of snows – a colourless, all-colour of atheism from which we shrink? And when we consider that other theory of natural philosophers, that all other earthly hues – every stately or lovely emblazoning – the sweet tinges of sunset skies and woods; yea, and the gilded velvets of butterflies, and the butterfly cheeks of young girls; all these are but subtle deceits, not actually inherent in substances, but only laid on from without; so that all defied Nature absolutely paints like the harlot, whose allurements cover nothing but the charnel-house within; and when we proceed further, and consider that mystical cosmetic which produces every one of her hues, the great principle of light, for ever remains white or colourless in itself, and if operating without medium upon matter, would touch all objects, even tulips and roses, with its own blank tinge – pondering all this, the palsied universe lies before us a leper; and like wilful travellers in Lapland, who refuse to wear coloured and colouring glasses upon their eyes, so the wretched infidel gazes himself blind at the monumental white shroud that wraps all the prospect around him.”2

1 Herman Melville, Moby-Dick (London: Vintage, 2007 (first published in 1851)), 212.

2 Ibid., 216-17

solice

2011-07-29T11:27:00.000+10:00

How do you derive solice from your home environment when the sound of progress is outside your window. The unending sound of turning wheels pushing forward without a thought for what is near or what has gone before. No thought for history or even the future really and where are the simple pleasures in those profit margins. We try a simple pleasure but you can't even lie there in the lap of after without that sound and vibration.

I wonder how much is double glazing?

on the train

2011-07-27T10:00:00.000+10:00

Tokyo to Narita.
Distance 60km.
Total trip time one hour.
One photo every 30 seconds.
Looking for landscape.

pain

2011-07-25T12:32:00.000+10:00

the line on display

2011-07-09T13:12:00.000+10:00

The lines from Calperum and other field study artist displays on currently on at the School of Art Foyer Gallery. Expression of Intent exhibition also includes work from the visiting land artists from the American West. This exhibition is a works in progress display and sets up an interesting contrast to the computer generated work in the main gallery - Art Machine.

Lines from Calperum

Visiting Land Artists:

Walking scorpio.

drawing the line at calperum

2011-07-05T21:46:00.000+10:00

When we drove inland to Calperum Station I was still thinking of the horizon and the line it made with the sky. Here I was imagining going back in time and gazing at a line that had been unchanged since before white settlement. Therefore I would be looking back in time more than 200 years. Unfortunately the landscape is still a changed landscape and I can only look back some 50 years here as well. When we do finally stumble across Mallee Country you can’t see the horizon but I know that I’m walking through something much older than any horizon I can see.

At Rotten Lake I overexpose the image to accentuate the line of the horizon on the edge of the Mallee country. Around the edge of the damaged lake is a thick line of dead insects and frogs. A recent flood deposited hundreds of insects, frogs and scorpions that died and then became salt encrusted.

At Lake Woolpolool I pull out pieces of cracked mud and lay them along a natural ridge. This is a black and white landscape recent flooding has deposited a film of grey mud over everything. While I was making the line volcanic ash from Chile made the sky a strange pink grey. My blue jumper makes the only splash of colour, moving back and forth carrying mud.

Using the red sand from under the Mallee I made a line of sand across a salt basin near Rotten lake. Was this symbolic!

The drawing of a line?

After passing cotton and rice fields across some of the driest country in Australia all I could see were lines.

I drew a line with sand.

landscape near hay

2011-07-02T16:11:00.000+10:00

This is the view of the horizon near Hay in New South Wales. This is actually the start of a trip, with a group of Land Artists from the American West, to Calperum Station near Renmark in South Australia.

When I look at the horizon am I looking back in time? How far can I see? Travelling inland I would expect to see further in time, maybe before white settlers. Unfortunately this is not the case, this is a modified horizon. Maybe I can see back 50 years but probably no more.

Can I see further near Renmark?

strange sky over lake woolpolool

2011-06-29T18:51:00.000+10:00

This is not a black and white photo.

It was taken at Lake Woolpolool in the Bookmark Biosphere near Renmark in South Australia on the day that an ash cloud stopped all the air flights across the country. Who would think that volcanic ash from Chile would cause havoc so far away.

These images look especially grey or apocalyptic by the fact that a recent flood deposited a grey film of mud over everything on the ground up to a height of around 1.5 metres.

seascape from quondolo beach

2011-06-16T13:59:00.000+10:00

After camping at Jigamy, near Eden on the south coast of NSW, as part of an art field studies group I was surprised to find frost on the ground around my tent. It is rare to get frost that close to the ocean in Australia. I actually didn't know it occurred at all and was certainly unprepared as I put on my cycling gear and looked down wondering whether I would be warm enough. No I wasn't, but luckily there was a long uphill to start my ride, quite long, huff, puff!

In Ben Boyd National park I follow the well travelled dirt road down towards Severs Beach. Looking down again my legs are pink and my toes are numb. I see a sign to Quondolo Beach and decide to have a look there first to see what it was like. This beach was a amazing discovery and quite a gem. As a walked down the rock steps the beach and coast line seemed almost untouched, which is interesting considering it sits relatively close between two coastal towns.

Then I started watching the sea intent on taking another seascape photo. As I watched the sea started to change before my eyes. There was a mist between the waves and as the sun began to rise the waves and mist increased.

When the sun had risen fully, dramatically changing the colour of the sky, the waves calmed down and the mist disappeared.

Later I come back with friends and the drama of the morning had disappeared.

running out of green energy

2011-06-04T17:15:00.000+10:00

Running out of green energy may actually come from an unlikely source, lack of copper. An interesting article by John Thackara on copper from the Design Observer or his own blog - Doors of Perception.

dead in the water

2011-05-31T12:44:00.000+10:00

In the old expo site in Osaka these paddle boats sit torpid and waiting. There is no water and it sad to see them staring forlornly across the now empty pond. How long they have been waiting I'm not sure, lets hope it hasn't been for 40 years.

supper at eden

2011-05-27T17:09:00.000+10:00

Actually Jigamy camp near Eden, after Carravaggio.

mud, shells and sand

2011-05-26T10:42:00.000+10:00

Near Eden

seascape from barraga beach

2011-05-20T09:43:00.000+10:00

In taking these photos it is easy to see the attraction by Hiroshi Sugimoto to the crisp clean line the ocean makes with the sky. Staying in one spot you can measure the changes in light and weather while keeping the same format.

A measure of the passage of time.

However from the 1980s, Sugimoto has chosen to take photos of the ocean, sea or even lake from different parts of the world at different times and in different weather. These seascapes are taken in black and white and highlight the similarities between views as much as the differences. So what does this say about time in this instance? At the opening lecture at the 2010 Sydney Biennale Sugimoto stated that the view to the ocean connected him with his childhood and beyond that to his ancestors and further still to a primordial consciousness. Through time this clean view of water and sky has remained unchanged connecting the consciousness of the viewer across continents and through time.

Interestingly this statement about connecting to ancestors is similar to one by Gaston Bachelard in the Poetics of Space in the chapter on Intimate Immensity, in this case relating to forests; “forests reign in the past. I know, for instance, that my grandfather got lost in a certain wood. I was told this, and I have not forgotten it. It happened in a past before I was born. My oldest memories, therefore, are a hundred years old, or perhaps a bit more.”[1] Or maybe a closer example is when Bachelard discusses lakes or ponds that mirror and transfigure the sky connecting us to both the universe and our inner being. Here he uses a quote from Henry Thoreau’s Walden: “A lake is the landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature. It is earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.”[2]

In The Architecture of Time, an edited book of the exhibition of Sugimoto’s works in 2002, he is quoted about his earliest childhood encounter with the sea: “I looked around at my hands and feet and then I seemed to be looking down on myself from above. As if I were there merged into that seascape.”[3]

The exhibiting of these seascape works side by side and sometimes outside allows you to view and examine the subtle differences in each picture. Typically the sky is light above and the water dark below but night shots in moon light can show the reverse, a dark sky and light sea. In misty shots the horizon line can disappear leaving an almost white image.

My own encounter with these works has been at Naoshima in the Benesse House Art Museum. Here they are mounted on the external wall exposed to the elements and over time the pictures will weather becoming white and imageless. In this location the works work with the building design by Tadao Ando where two large blade walls frame the only view to the Seto Inland Sea from the ground floor. I read somewhere that the horizon in the images is positioned to line up with the real horizon line of the sea in the distance. Although I was a bit sceptical of this, looking back through my photos confirmed that from quite a few positions around the courtyard this is true.

Beyond the walls of Benesse House, Sugimoto also has two works mounted on the cliff faces near the water. These works, more than the other external works, play with your sense of inside and out. How do you look at works framed in a traditional way on a cliff while beautiful real scenery surrounds you? It is impossible to see the image clearly from any vantage point; in both cases they appear black. I do wonder however that in this instance we have been tricked? While straining hard to view these pictures and even taking photos of these strange objects have we failed to notice the real drama and beauty of the environment behind us?

Conversely, a walk to the Go-oh Shrine focuses attention back towards reality. The thin concrete slot leading under the shrine eliminates all distractions and somehow pinpoints a part of the view without other islands and - at the right time – ships or clouds. When I first went to the Go-oh Shrine I have to admit that my memory of the view was somewhat hazy. Most likely because of the queue of people waiting to enter the slot and the fact that the guide kept checking to see if we were ready. So when seeing an image taken of the view through this slot I thought - is that really what you see? On the second trip there were no other people so there was time to take in the clear view which is indeed like the image.

[1] Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space, trans. Maria Jolas (Boston: Beacon Press, 1954), 188. Quoting Gaston Roupnel, La campagne francaise.

[2] Ibid., 210.

[3] Schneider, ed., Hiroshi Sugimoto - Architecture of Time, 51.

the view

2011-05-14T16:21:00.000+10:00

Barraga Bay beach, storm approaching...

the park

2011-05-05T16:56:00.000+10:00

sculptures in tanja

2011-04-30T11:00:00.005+10:00

While driving along the Tathra Bermagui Road I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

Steel balls rusting silently in a small grass land oasis just off the road.

Old hinges.

Steel angles.

Reinforcing bar.

I don't know who the artist is, but will keep searching. A nice surprise along a scenic drive.

tree of desire

2011-04-29T10:18:00.000+10:00

This drawing started while having a coffee in the National Film and Sound Archive courtyard. The contorted tree caught my attention and I got my pencil out (instead of my camera). Since then the tree has taken on a life of its own and become laced with desire.

Where did that come from?

images lost in time (5)

2011-04-08T08:24:00.000+10:00

the family

snowing in blue planet sky

2011-04-02T17:42:00.002+11:00

Within a circle of single story glass walls galleries and rooms are arranged within the like white cubes in a pond. Although the building is slick and modern it also feels like it encompasses a traditional simple Zen like aesthetic. It therefore seemed highly appropriate to find a James Turrell sky space (Blue Planet Sky – 2004) inside as part of the main fabric of the architecture. My first experience with Turrell's sky spaces was at the Chichu museum in Naoshima (Open Sky – 2004) and though it is hard to replicate the first encounter where initially it seemed like I was looking at an artwork fixed to the ceiling and not an opening to the sky. In this museum - in Kanazawa - the experience of ‘Blue Planet Sky’ has been made special by having snow falling lightly through the opening.

Inside the museum building it is warm before you walk into the space, where it is quite chilly, but that kind of chill that makes you more alert. Looking up through the opening the sky was white and the walls appeared to be a light grey with white flecks of snow falling softly down to the tiled floor.

It was easy to forget the cold and just stare, or stand with your mouth open waiting to catch a flake and have it melt on your tongue.

After returning later the snow had stopped briefly and the opening revealed a section of blue sky with dark blue grey clouds, the walls now appeared to have a yellow hue. It was like coming back to a different room.

The snow didn't stop for long.

helping through art

2011-03-26T19:32:00.000+11:00

Handmade for Japan

More links through design observer article on creative support for Japan.

reflections in the shoalhaven river

2011-03-18T15:54:00.000+11:00

The mist is still low in the valley as I climb into the canoe. There is no noise from the other tents as I push off from the shore. My camera sits on my lap and the paddle breaks through the water, first one side then the other. A slight chill hangs in the air, enough to make me shiver.

Slowly the canoe moves through the water as I concentrate on moving the paddle without making the water ripple or splash into my lap. Moving close to the edge of the river I lift the paddle so as not to break the mirror like surface of the water.

It is harder than it seems and there is only a limited amount of time before the ripples from the canoe spoil the reflection.

Lost in no thought, this is broken too soon by the sound of children playing.

Almost on cue the breeze starts to pick up and the mirror like quality of the river is gone again for another day.

the market

2011-03-08T08:47:00.000+11:00

what is street art?

2011-02-25T20:16:00.000+11:00

Does urban impoverishment lead directly to graffiti and street art? Is it an attempt to fill the gap in our peripheral realm and re-engage with our environment? Below are some images that caught my eye, some deliberate and some just as an accidental composition. The first set is from Sydney on the streets near the White Rabbit gallery.

The second set is more subtle and is from Honmura on Naoshima in Japan. In Honmura the streets are narrow and there is much to stimulate your peripheral vision. Is the detail and vibrancy indirectly related to the tactile interest of the street scape?

urban impoverishment

2011-02-20T18:34:00.000+11:00

Walking out of the train station and across the bridge a strange pattern of light crosses into my vision and pulls me from my day dream. It occurs at the same spot each time. This time I focus on the subject of my disturbance those brightly lit monotonous apartments.

I scan them for signs of life but I am disappointed as it appears that these balconies are not places to linger.

I remember reading somewhere that if environmental stimuli are too low people will either move faster through such a space or substitute for the deprivation by creating alternative mental stimuli. Maybe that has been what I have been doing before this? The upsetting thing though is that these are homes and I reflect on a quote by Juhani Pallasmaa from his book, The Eyes of the Skin: “A culture that seeks to control its citizens is likely to promote the opposite of interaction, away from intimate individuality and identification towards a public and distant detachment”.

In the next town I walk quickly to my apartment.

carpet tile printing (part 1)

2011-02-11T14:21:00.000+11:00

The starting point for this piece is an architect friend talking about how hard it is to reuse or recycle materials. They listed the following reasons; too hard to source materials; cost was too high; couldn't find materials that looked that good anyway. I nodded, but really I was thinking it can't be that hard.

Carpet tiles are one area where it is possible to reclaim, refurbish and reprint old tiles. You can even use your own images. On a recent building project I had the chance to work with reclaimed tiles using my own selected image.

First the old tile is cleaned and shaved (to get a consistent height of pile). Below is an image of the tile with it's original pattern. Also from a local source which was a bonus.

The building project had an objective to teach sustainable skills, so I had to find an appropriate image. As one of the proposed programs was to look at water conservation methods in buildings. Therefore I thought an appropriate image might come from a trip made to Lake Mokoan in Victoria. Lake Mokoan is near Benalla and was originally set up as an irrigation lake in the 1970's. Prior to that it was called Winton Swamp. When I visited as part of a field study in early 2009 the Lake was completely empty. (How quickly things change).

This image was taken from the bed of the lake and I also took a number of other images of the cracked mud that seemed suitable as a carpet tile print images. Below are four shortlisted photos and print images prior to testing.

Mokoan mud - 1.

Mokoan mud - 1, print image.

Mokoan mud - 2.

Mokoan mud - 2, print image.

Mokoan mud - 3.

Mokoan mud - 3, print image.

Mokoan mud - 4.

Mokoan mud 4, print image.

After some tests by the tile company on the computer, looking at pattern and repeats, it appeared that Mokoan mud - 2 worked best. I sent another image of this with a different colour profile and less colours.

Mokoan mud - 2, print image 2.

These images were then simplified further and made into a repeat. The printing machine is like a large flatbed bubble-jet spray printer with heater to ensure the dye sets instantly and doesn't run. The sample test printer can do four tiles at a time.

After a wait I received the following sample tiles to look at.

Carpet sample 1.
Appeared too green and made me think of camouflage.

Carpet sample 2.
Less like camouflage but wondered whether the yellow might look like tea or coffee stains.

Carpet sample 3.
Grey may seem like the easy way to go but I liked how the coloured dots from the original pattern showed through - plus it is always good to see it in context.

This shows the tiles being installed. We also managed to source recycled bricks and timber. The bricks still had old bits of paint left so having the carpet will no colour seemed to fit.

Surprisingly when installed the carpet seems to pick up the colour from the timber nearby giving it a yellowish hue.

When I first saw a completed floor I thought that maybe it was too busy. But when furniture arrived the business receded and it seems to tie in with the timber. It also has a slight 3D effect that I had not anticipated.

Did it cost too much? Not really, over two building projects the savings are nearly $100,000.00 over an equivalent new finish.

Was it too hard to get? Not really, unfortunately I found out that the tiles came from the building my friend had been working on.

Does it look good....

not wallpaper

2011-01-28T18:05:00.000+11:00

Within a modernist contemporary art gallery inspired by Mies van der Rohe's Barcelona Pavilion there is a surprise find - an intensely coloured wall with colour matched plywood rocking chairs. The space overlooks one of the courtyards within the circular building designed by Tokyo firm SANAA. It is a space for contemplation while rocking slowly on the chairs and appropriately called the "People's Gallery".

Michael Lin produces these large wall works inspired by floral patterns in traditional fabrics and in this case the work uses a kimono fabric from the Kanasawa area.

underwater

2011-01-21T21:20:00.000+11:00

I sit at the bottom, relaxed. I have taken a breath then let it out slowly until I could feel myself sinking to the floor of the pool. My goggles are new and the pool seems incredibly clear. How long can I sit here before my breath runs out?

Looking up through the water I see the hazy view of the sky about. It is cloudy and lights in the pool reflect from below.

Down on the bottom a dance of dappled light through the surface of the water.

Slowly my son descends into the pool using the ladder...Or is he ascending the ladder...Something is not right...

Why is he fully clothed?

I take a breath. Air?

This is an installation by Argentine artist Leandro Erlich at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art in Kanasawa. A thin layer of water covers a large sheet of glass over the imitation pool base.

Looking back I'm sure I could smell chlorine.

Outside the museum snow falls as we leave.

shearwater revisited

2010-12-07T21:58:00.000+11:00

It has been a year since the previous finding of Shearwater carcasses on Kioloa Beach. This year 100kms south at Barraga Beach on the south coast of New South Wales carcasses litter the sand again and friends holidaying north reported carcasses on beaches more than 100kms away. This mass of Shearwater or Mutton bird death is called a wreck and happens periodically in October or November when the birds encounter bad weather on the way back to Australia from the northern Pacific. This is now the second year in a row and with increasing bad weather due to climate change will this be a more common occurrence?

images lost in time (4)

2010-11-25T21:00:00.002+11:00

The boating party.
Ewens Ponds, Port MacDonnell, about 1939.

urban tapestry

2010-11-21T19:11:00.001+11:00

Design festa gallery

Sometimes in a city you stumble across the unexpected that changes the tapestry built up in your mind when wondering up until to that point. This art house like gallery is in Harajuku, Tokyo along one of the back streets. It is nice to find a gallery where even the bathroom is a space for showing art work.

The outside is clad in scaffolding pipes.

the contested lanscapes of western sydney

2010-11-20T10:01:00.000+11:00

Exhibition at Purple Noon and Sassafras Creek.

images of the unexpected

2010-11-07T21:46:00.000+11:00

angels and demons

the stream

in the grass

along the rocks

bark of a tree

tree trunk

night walk

in the torch beam

three people walking on a path

cockatoo island

2010-11-01T20:52:00.000+11:00

This is a late entry on the exhibition that was part of the 17th Biennale of Sydney.

Sculpture or accommodation?

How often do you get to explore old partially derelict buildings at leisure and with almost complete freedom? I remember as a child growing up in Smithfield (Sydney) exploring abandoned houses on the border between the city and farmland (at that time Smithfield was the edge of the city). Walking through Cockatoo Island made me think of then but without the fear of getting caught. The bonus – artwork included. When seeing art in this context it is sometimes hard to imagine how we ended up with the pure white walls of a gallery. On the island the viewing became an exploration of trying to find where (or what) the artwork was and on the way absorbing the historical context (isn’t this the essence of “place”?).

One of the comments I have found interesting (post exhibition) was that the buildings and background competed with the artworks? Maybe I don’t understand! As a photographer and architect an island of derelict buildings and artwork is like Christmas. The works I found the least successful appeared to be in a space too clean and gallery like. Take Roger Ballen’s photographs for example, this was one time where the backdrop was not dirty or grungy enough. Maybe a series of dark stained damp rooms with tangled wire and rotting blankets may have felt more in keeping. Robert MacPherson’s “Chitters: A Wheelbarrow for Richard, 156 Paintings, 156 signs” 1999-2000 on the other hand appeared to be completely at home in the surroundings of a rundown warehouse. His landscaping terminologies “artificial rocks”, “sleepers”, “soak wells”, etc seemingly in context with some of the wall signage I noticed such as “Rob’s locker”, “please keep clean by order” and my favourite “national security no smoking”.

Chitters: A Wheelbarrow for Richard, 156 Paintings, 156 Signs (1999-2000) - Robert MacPherson

Certainly some of the debris could have been artwork and maybe the tension of this made the experience more memorable. Nothing is clear cut however, Dale Frank’s twelve abstract paintings were located in a long (60 plus metre) space that most galleries would be jealous of (I’m sure). Complete with a green glow coming from the upper glazing and the now disused gantry crane, this space forms part of the Turbine Hall. Frank’s works; which apparently are a metaphor for a drowned convict, sit opposite and below the green glow like being submerged below the sunlit watery depths.

And the title!

The River, Dettol colour, with depth increasing Molasses consistency, the acid sting giving way to a sweet nauseous caramel detachment. His eyes no longer inward squirting lemons but swollen ripe wet fruit. Peeled back Lychee's the size of Grapefruit. The Panadol induced creation of a dead man by circumstance and the fancy of delusions, "floating islands", a primordial soup that was his bilious beginning and bloated undoing. A loud pungent dessert ever present with each bite of each preceding course of his fifty year banquet (2009) - Dale Frank

This could have been the hall of favourites with the full size plywood sculpture of the Hubble space telescope by Peter Hennessey, the easy to miss “He with glands of wasp” by New Zealand artist Rohan Wealleans (a piece that seamlessly integrated with the disused machinery), crowd favourite Cai Guo-Qiang’s “Inopportune: Stage one” (exploding cars, what else do you need) and then the opportunity to clamber across roof tops complete with TV antennas and satellite dishes. In this installation by Kader Attia I am reminded of a stay in Barcelona where, in the hotel, you could make your way to the roof. The view on the roof of antennas, air conditioning units and (surprisingly) clothes lines bore some resemblance to this installation. Therefore I was not surprised to learn that Attia studied in Barcelona, although the work was meant to be more about the shanty towns from his home land of North Africa.

My Hubble (the universe turned in on itself), 2010 - Peter Hennessey

He with glands of Wasp, 2009 - Rohan Wealleans

Inopportune:Stage One, 2004 - Cai Guo-Qiang

Kasbah, 2010 - Kader Attia

In relation to my own studies I had come to see the work of Hiroshi Sugimoto, “Faraday Cage”. Sugimoto who is a photographer, installation artist and sometime architect had a ready made space for this work in the Cockatoo Island Power House. This was turned into a Japanese shrine in amongst the backdrop of electrical transformers. A sculpture of Raijin, the God of thunder looked down a chequer plate staircase adorned with Sugimoto’s Lighting Field series while in the background a Faraday charge broke the silence. At the time a low light entered through the windows adjacent to the sculpture adding an eerie glow.

Faraday Cage (including Lightning Fields), 2010 - Hiroshi Sugimoto

Interestingly the installation by Brodie Ellis seemed to complement Sugimoto’s installation although not in the same building or in close proximity. The work “Umbra: Penumbra: Antumbra” was based on a memory of an eclipse witnessed in southern Japan. Maybe this influence gave a connection between the works? Both required time to absorb and immerse. In this work time was required just to adjust to the light and I wonder about the influence of James Turrell’s work at Naoshima?

Umbra: Penumbra: Antumbra, 2010 - Brodie Ellis

Contrasting these works was a video installation by Isaac Julien in one of the more subdued spaces. In this case the subdued surrounding allowed time to relax and reflect and let the multi-screen work wash over – almost literally. The scenes of rolling waves, water, flight and the slow painting of Chinese characters was mesmerising and my mind drifted and dozed.

Ten Thousand Waves, 2010 - Isaac Julien

Next the waves were outside the ferry, my head against the window, rolling back to the pier and reality again. After spending a whole day on the island I came back to find that I had missed some works and it was too late for a return journey.

I can hardly wait for the next instalment in two years - hopefully the OH&S police don’t get hold of it.

images lost in time (3)

2010-10-31T23:26:00.000+11:00

inspecting the crash site

images lost in time (2)

2010-10-28T20:38:00.001+11:00

enfield motorcycle
(Mount Gambier - could be around 1918)

images lost in time (1)

2010-10-24T19:44:00.001+11:00

the long distance swimmer?
(Port MacDonnell - 1938)

diary of a suburban block - part 1

2010-09-27T22:18:00.000+10:00

Reinstating the vegetable patch.

Overgrown with weeds and grass the time has come to clean up and grow food. It is spring after all. Can we do it properly this time? Can we get the compost to actually work? Looking in the top the compost is like dark sticky mud.

One: De-grassing the planting bed.

Two: Subsoil compost liquid line.

Three: Planting and relocate compost.
Empty compost bin first and repack with dry mulch in layers with the mud.

Notes:
Half finished sculpture for passion fruit vines.
Old CD stand and ladder pieces for peas.
Timber louvre boxes from building site for herbs and tomato pots - these form a dog barrier (hopefully).

How long will it take?
How do we become food secure on a 460sqm block?
Can the humble vegetable patch become a work of art?

the gulf of mexico oil spill

2010-09-16T20:30:00.001+10:00

This infographic of the gulf of mexico oil spill requires no extra words.

graphic

engaging visions

2010-09-16T19:49:00.000+10:00

Hear about the engaging visions exhibition and the people involved on ABC radio national.

Listen

place making (part 7)?

2010-08-31T21:52:00.000+10:00

Haisha
Shinro Ohtake, 2006

Man and boy had saved this one for last. They had ridden past and decided to save it. Not that it particularly looked better than any others just that it appeared fun.

Is it a more Westernised art object?

Looking at the house it is hard to tell whether it is a new structure made from recycled materials or an old house refurbished with recycled materials. External walls were covered in nearly everything you could possibly imagine. Rusted steel, plywood, steel drum lids, old timber ladders, doors, machinery wheels, metal signs, speaker phones, a clock, mirror, fibreglass boat hulls protrude from one side, a tree branch. It some ways it is a reminder of the chaos of Japanese cities particularly with the forest of TV antennas that adorn the roof.

Apparently it was the old dentistry.

After removing their shoes the man and the boy enter the chaos within. No surface is left untouched. Even clear Perspex sheets line the floor covering sketches, notes, postcards and other bits and pieces. They slow down and examine everything and read the bits they can. In this house even the bathroom is a piece of art. Some of the rooms have larger objects like the hull of a boat. It one space two levels high there is a white fibreglass copy of the statue of liberty. The figure is tightly inserted into the house. So tightly in fact that it is hard to believe that the house was not built around the statue.

On the upper level the boy and man stand wondering why is the statue here. Smiling to each other they think it is funny and unexpected. On reflection the man wonders about the impact of the USA in Japan. Does its presence loam large just below the surface? Is this house an accumulation of modern Japanese society? It is certainly different to the previous Art houses which are more like restorations of traditional society. This house is frantic mesh of all things.

Outside they do an inspection of all sides of the installation. Around the back they can just make out the head and arm of statue through the upper windows. Just below the surface, the man thinks, not quite hidden.

contested landscapes

2010-08-30T17:51:00.000+10:00

An exhibition of works looking at the contested food bowl of Western Sydney is currently exhibiting at the See Street Gallery (invitation below). This food bowl around the Hawkesbury River is approximately 1% of NSW land and produces 11% of the fresh food crops in the state and is one of the most fertile areas in Australia. Rapid expansion of Sydney's outer suburbs threatens to cover all of the remaining food growing areas with housing.

Developers and the government tend to see all farmland as unihabited and prime for either building or mining - is this a throw back from the first fleet?

Now with most farming being religated to the Western side of the dividing range how food secure are we?

Uninhabited

engaging visions

2010-08-08T20:32:00.000+10:00

Engaging visions launched its book and exhibition Thursday last week at the Canberra School of Art Gallery.

View the interview on youtube.

shearwater

2010-08-07T10:09:00.000+10:00

While down at Kioloa on the South Coast last year I was surprised to find carcasses of Shearwater (or mutton birds) all along Kioloa beach and Racecourse beach. Apparently these extended in various spots up into Queensland. Shearwater can be quite sensitive to environmental changes and this find was somewhat disturbing. However after some research it was relieving (a bit) to find out that the mortality rate among young birds is very high. Also Shearwater are protected under an international treaty.

Around this time I stumbled across Chris Jordan's photograph's of albatross chicks at Midway Atoll.

place making (part 6)?

2010-07-03T15:59:00.008+10:00

Ishibashi

Hiroshi Senju, 2006

At this house the ritual starts again and they sit down to remove their shoes one by one. Their feet move between timber boards and tatami mats, smooth then rough on skin of their feet through their socks.

Along a deck like walkway half in and half out.
In the courtyard a rock.

Behind is a traditional painting of mountains, trees and rocky outcrops. Mist envelopes the scene and melds into the whiteness of the paper.

At the end room the man and the boy admire a painted waterfall around two walls. In the painting mist rises and you can imagine the sound, the roar of water like a wall. Here the silence is in conflict with the image – they strain their ears. At the base the waterfall is reflected like in a true pond however is this case the reflective material is timber floor boards. He kneels down and can just make out the joints in the timber polished black to almost mirror quality. The urge is to jump in and splash around to break the stillness. How deep would it be?

The Falls, Hiroshi Senju. Photo by Osamu Watanabe.

This is all within and someone looking would just see a man and a boy standing still in contemplation and not in tension on the edge of jumping.

place making (part 5)?

2010-06-26T19:19:00.000+10:00

Gokaisho

(Tree of Spring)
Yoshihiro Suda, 2006

Making their way back to the bicycles they put their bags into the baskets on the front. The boy waits silently while the man tucks his trouser leg into his sock. Riding the narrow streets they loop around different lanes, more playful this time. There are serious stares from pedestrians but these are ignored. At the next stop they dismount in a gravel car park and a more formal bike parking area. It seems out of place amongst the traditional houses and laneways.

Gokaisho is a refurbished village house and garden. In this case the emphasis is from the perspective of the garden. On the outside looking in.

Together in the garden the man and the boy look towards the two small pavilions which face them, doors open. It is like looking into full size museum pieces with their treasures within or shop display windows. There is no glass and outside extends into these small rooms.

It appears to be like the art of flower arranging. Petals and flowers are arranged on the tatami mats within the space of the pavilions. Matching is a plant in the garden with the same flowers. The flowers in the pavilion are timber immaculately carved and painted.

Thinking back, was the plant in the garden real or timber? It seemed real at the time but it was mid-winter? Trying hard to remember – it seemed so real?

the market (part 1)

2010-06-19T13:25:00.003+10:00

Tsukiji Fish Market

It seems that visiting the Tsukiji fish market last year was a privaledge that may disappear. Now the hours and numbers of people visiting will be restricted. A pity. Visiting the main floor will not be possible until after 9:00am when the action is all but over. Hopefully this is only temporary.

While there I found the vendor's booths, in particular, fascinating both in size and how they have been personalised. Sometimes there is so much "stuff" that the booths and the people who occupy them murge with the objects. A rich tapestry.

My thanks to their patience.

place making (part 4)?

2010-05-25T22:26:00.008+10:00

Go’O Shrine

Hiroshi Sugimoto, Appropriate Proportion, 2002

Setting off on foot this time from Kadoya the man and the boy walk hand in hand up the hill to a gravel path. As the hill steepens, slabs of irregular granite form steps in the path.

They walk over the crest and down towards a queue of people that has formed on the hill side. A rather large guide keeps them back from what looks like a cut in the hill – is it a cave? People are going in by twos.

Passage entrance leading to the rock chamber - Hiroshi Sugimoto
L’Histoire De L’Histoire, Yasuo Hosokawa Pub, 2004, p 143

After some time the boy and the man are allowed to move towards the cut. It is a concrete slot, quite narrow. He looks back at the guide and wonders if the guide could fit - it is not for the claustrophobic. The boy moves in first and the man turns sideways to work his way through. It appears to be about eight metres long but may not be that far. He can feel the closeness against his face as they move further into the passage. At the end the passage turns right and opens into a stone chamber. It takes a while for their eyes to adjust.

What is it? A stair, the man answers - a solid glass stair.

There is light at the top and as he looks closely he wonders - is it cast glass? The edges are rough like stone.

Where does it go? Up to the outside, I’ll show you.

Are we going up the stair? No, back out and around.

A stairway of light joining earth and the heavenly and only the spirits can walk the steps and pass through the earth.

Back out into the passage the view to the Seto Sea is focused through the slot. He tries to take a picture of the view from inside but the large guide blocks the view. A picture from outside will have to do but it is not quite the same.

Much later they find a picture of the view through the slot by Hiroshi Sugimoto. Was that really the view? The memory is hazy, maybe it requires a revisit.

View from the passage toward the exit - Hiroshi Sugimoto
L’Histoire De L’Histoire, Yasuo Hosokawa Pub, 2004, p 149

Above on the outside they look at the continuation of the glass stair to the small timber strine. Large white pebbles cover a large area where the stair descends below a large stone slab.

The stone slab (weighing some 24 tonnes) was taken from Mount Mannari on another island and moved to Naoshima.

Can we walk on the pebbles and up the stair? No, it is special, for priests only. Ok.

They stand for a moment as the man takes a photo. Then they walk back down the hill.

Although this new structure was built in 2002 the shrine has a history dating back to 1338. It was a spiritual guardian to a castle built on Shiroyama by Lord Takahara the ruler of Naoshima in the beginning of the Edo period.

living together

2010-04-25T12:00:00.000+10:00

is this a comfortable relationship?

signs of progress

2010-04-25T11:53:00.000+10:00

the parking meter

contested landscapes

2010-04-25T11:47:00.001+10:00

third entry

He walks under the billboard through the long dead grass. A house sits on a small hill in a sea of grass. Some trees sit close on the hill, dead leaves still clinging to the branches. Focusing on his feet to avoid the tangled clumps it is slow going more akin to climbing than walking. At a rocky outcrop the progress is easier and he takes some time to look at the house in detail. The walls are stone and solid stubbornly resisting the progress into decay. Other materials had not fared so well. The once open verandah where he could imagine plant pots, a chair and table with steaming tea, freshly made jam and maybe a bowl of fruit was now partially collapsed. You could still see the tangled remnants of the chair under the weight of one of the main beams. Windows that once surveyed an orchard down towards the river were now glassless and partly boarded. Turning towards the orchard he glazed across the blackened and lifeless rows of twisted stumps. The rows remained distinct exaggerating the perspective towards the river bank.

Pushing on again head bowed he made his slow progress upwards. It was close now. A bent and armless clothes line marked the remnants of a backyard with an open pit left of what must have been the septic system. An old bath against the back wall this time held brackish water which he collected for boiling later in the day. Any water was better than the contents of the river.

Pausing at the door he took a deep breath and prepared for the unexpected. Being slightly ajar made it easier to move in silently and slowly he moved through the gap into dark emptiness of the first room. Darkness pressed against his eyes while he waited for them to adjust. Not too long as the external light through the door helped to penetrate the gloom. Gaps in the boarded windows provided pin prick highlights to the space. Apart from a thick layer of dust mixed with ash the room was empty. An opening at the far end lead to a traditional hall dividing the house like a spine with rooms attached either side. In the hall darkness filled every corner and this time it took much longer for eyes to make out any detail. While waiting his ears strain to pick out sounds hidden in the darkness. Out of the corner of his eye a face slowly emerges from the inky depths.

Standing frozen the details form before his eyes. Nose, eyes, mouth, heart beating it connects to the wall forming an arch. Heart slows, his breathing starts to even as the hall extends connecting doors hiding rooms beyond. He briefly smiles. Through the darkness in one of these rooms he kicks through the ashes of a fireplace. Is this the sitting room? Once a fire burned low, high backed chairs faced the warmth, the mantle covered in small framed photographs of distant relatives. Burnt in the fire for warmth? Out of the ash the remnants of a frame, the last memories of a lost time. Whiteness forms deeper in the black remains. Bones. A last meal or something more recent?

The next room holds a surprise. An old mattress in the corner, rugs on either side, a stool has white runs of wax along the top to frozen drops around the edge and to the floor. He runs his hand along the mattress. Expecting warmth there is only cold and a layer of dust. How long? Weeks or years it is hard to tell. A battle in his mind – oh to feel the comfort of a soft bed, life held few pleasures.

contested landscapes

2010-04-20T13:57:00.001+10:00

second entry

I was angry with myself for catching fright so easily. There had been far worse to cope with in the past - although maybe it was good to be a bit wary in this place.

The caravans had turned out to be harmless empty shells. Other people had been and left, I couldn’t even find any crumbs. There was some food left in my pack but not much. I looked towards the wall of derelict houses. So close together and so many the houses stopped at an imaginary line which was the flood line. In some places depending on the height of the river bank it was quite close. In the lower areas the line moved further into the distance, a couple of kilometers or more.

I was determined to stay within the flood plain as much as possible. I wasn’t ready to risk the houses yet. At least on the plain I could see an approach.

There were houses or buildings that dotted the plain. Many on posts without access, stairs and ladders long since rotted or burnt away. These were the grass grower’s houses and as I walk the now dead fields of grass it amazes me that as the food began to run out grass was grown to pretty the gardens of the ‘Urbans’. What was it all about? Now there is nothing. All strangled and dead, a black putrid river snaking through the emptiness.

Over a rise a large billboard sign that used to promise lifestyle and leisure now reads “The future – no life is here”.

place making (part 3)?

2010-04-10T12:18:00.002+10:00

Kadoya

Tatsuo Miyajima, Sea of Time 1998

In the tight cobbled streets again. Cool then warmth, cool then warmth as they pass through shade and sunlit patches. They enter an older house this time. A 200 year old house restored for contemporary art. Is this a true reflection of the passage of time?

Charred timber boards are meant to show the passage of time as they age.

9           6                       1           2                        3          5           9

2           3           8                       5            6          9           1           6

7           2           5          9                         5          6           8           1

9           1           3          7           3            4          2                        5

5           8           2                       1            9          7           4           3

8                        7          2           6            3                       9           4

             9           6         5           8            2          4           3           7

4           7           1          3           4           8          5           6

3           4          9                       7            1          6           2           8

They have started to slow down, walking slowly through the external court inside to remove their shoes. In the largest room is a shallow black lined pond. Once seated the man and the boy look across the water. Reflected is the interior of the house and people seated opposite, an upside down world. Under the water numbers tick over at various speeds 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 in three colours red, yellow and green. The boy and the man sit there. Some tick over very fast, some slow, some don’t work. 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and 5 and 6 and 7 and 8 and 9 and blank, then again.

Residents helped determine the pace of each of the 125 LED counters.

He wonders who chose what pace? Are the fast counters chosen by the young and slow by the old? Do they match how they felt on the day? That fast one there is that a business man eager to be on his way to the catch the ferry and on to work? Is the slow counter there a young woman trying to slow down the inevitable encounter with a persistent suitor? What of the stopped counters?

He wonders which counter the boy is looking at.

place making (part 2)?

2010-04-02T21:00:00.009+11:00

Naoshima

The man and the boy take the train from Osaka to Okayama, then from Okayama to the port of Uno. Slow, small and rickety it stops at each and every station. This is rural Japan and there are fields through the window. Houses spread then compress again into villages then spread again. Never is the landscape untouched.

On the ferry the sea is calm they eat sandwiches and watch the progress of a marathon on a screen. The smoke stack of the Naoshima environment centre inches by.

They invesigate the red pumpkin and silver space ship seats at the port at Miyanoura. Inside the pumpkin the dappled sunlight spots irregular shapes. A bright sun on a cold day and still water.

Minamidera
Backside of the Moon, James Turrell, 1999.

Cycling across to the village of Honmura from the port at Miyanoura takes about ten minutes. They ride along the dividing line of the island on the left is the Northern industrial side of island while on the right or Southern side is the art and environmental side. Both are hidden from view while riding, behind hills of bushes and low trees.

In Honmura most of the buildings are more than 200 years old (the island actually has a history dating back nearly 2,000 years). The village contains six art house projects and three of these involve restored houses.

They negotiate the tight streets of the village some no bigger than a foot path. It forces them to ride slow one behind the other. He leads and the boy follows.

After back tracking they come to a large area of gravel with a black timber building at one end and a play ground at the other. Minamidera.

Minamidera, a collaboration by Tadao Ando and James Turrell. Minamidera is a wooden structure using the elements of traditional Japanese architecture in a contemporary setting. Black timber external cladding is a reference to the practice of charring the surface to preserve the timber from moisture and insect attack. Apparently this form of finish can offer protection for up to 80 years (a life time). In this instance the timber is stained black.

He looks at the simple construction in gravel that nestles into a green grove. It does not give much away. The entry is hidden. They walk towards the gap behind a low screen. On the other side is a path leading along the building to the trees. A head pops out of the side of the wall. Startled they walk towards the smiling head.

Once inside they remove their shoes in the ritual way, place together and with toes facing away from where you are entering. He thinks – walk out straight into shoes.

They are lead by the hand into an interior space where your eyes cannot initially pierce the darkness he holds her hand, the boy holds his. He sits by the boy on a bench, they wait. The blackness presses against their eyes. In the blackness they can hear the breath and shuffling of the socks of other people nearby. How close are they? After some time an ultraviolet rectangle appears. Is it a rectangle? He peers at the indistinct shape before his eyes. Fuzzy, blurriness of dreams. What is it? The shape looks like it moves back and forth or is it that it is enlarging and shrinking – it is hard to tell. He strains to catch a distinct edge and gauge some distance – it seems misty. Time slows.

Has he fallen asleep then awoke, suddenly things become somewhat clearer and the floor becomes visible. There are at least eight other people here. All start standing walking closer to the rectangle, entranced? In reverence? When close enough he stands there and it is only the boy who seems to have worked it out. The boy grasps his father’s arm and pushes it through the rectangle. A silent gasp. The man’s arm flails in mid air the rectangle of light is a cut-out – just light.

They all put their heads into the light.

In leaving my thoughts go to the Kiyomizu-dera temple in Kyoto visited about two months earlier. Just before the temple you can descend into the Tainai-meguri. First you take off your shoes then climb down the steep steps. A monk had gestures that it is important not to let go of the roped hand rail and after the descent it becomes obvious why. The darkness hangs like a veil in front of your eyes. To find the way you have to rely on touch. I feel the smooth cobble stone floor underfoot and my hand runs along the smooth timber balls on a rope which is a kind of handrail (like an abacus). I wonder if it has been worn smooth by the passage of hands before me and the floor by feet. It seems like a long time in the darkness with a couple of turns to help you lose your sense of direction. Then a pinprick of light highlights a stone plinth, the top seems concave like a bowl. Only just enough light to give the misty outline of the stone. Moving on darkness descends again until the outside light starts to penetrate the darkness before the assent out.

It is hard not to make a connection.

Outside, the sound of gravel under their feet and harsh light stinging their eyes.

contested landscapes

2010-03-21T18:28:00.002+11:00

first entry

I awoke near the bank of the river. Not too near. Listening in the gloomy dark of the early morning my senses were heightened to the slightest sound or movement. The sound of slow moving water filled the background and the rustle of wind through the dead leaves and branches. My nostrils filled with a putrid smell and I realised that the breeze had changed direction and was now blowing across the river. Was it the Hawkesbury? Two abandoned caravans lay in my periphery, silent and menacing. They could have offered some comfort but I was afraid to check the contents in the dark. Instead I had set myself a resting place among the rubbish under an old iron roofed chicken run.

In the gloomy light and finally awake after dozing off. The sky had that yellow – brown ting of smoke that seemed ever present these days, like a continuous bushfire. Gathering my things (not much) then picking my way carefully through the detritus I slowly began making my way towards the caravans. To my left were a series of crumpled brick piers. In the past I imagined this whole area had cabins and caravans and the sound of kids on bikes or in the pool. The sound of speed boats along the river. Now only silence. A bath half full of something lay in the dead grass ahead. It had a black solid crust over and caked along one edge. As I poked a stick through the crust the dark red ooze took me by surprise and made the hair on my neck prickle. I looked up….

place making (part 1)?

2010-03-14T16:59:00.008+11:00

Naoshima

Naoshima is in the Seto Inland Sea of Japan accessible from the port of Uno. The island has been developing as a pilgrimage site for people interested in art and architecture.

When you approach the island from Uno you immediately become aware of the mixed nature of the island. Visible from the front of the boat is an enormous chimney stack which seems out of scale with the island. Surprisingly this chimney is part of the Naoshima Environment Centre and the name had me wondering what this may be. This structure burns and dissolves industrial waste, while in the same area (the Northern part of the island) there is copper refinery – the Mitsubishi Materials Refinery. It also melts down and recycles metals from cars, although it does give the North part of the island a very industrial and polluted appearance.

The southern part of the island is in stark contrast to this – or is it the other way around. In 1988 the Benesse corporation with the help of Japanese architect Tadao Ando began developing contemporary art and architecture into the natural setting of the island. This has resulted in a number of refined works of artist and architect collaboration particularly between Tadao Ando and James Turrell. Presently the island has two museums; Benesse House Museum and the Chichu Art Museum; in addition to this there are six art house projects in the Honmura Area and various levels of accommodation containing well known art works.

Although the island is small and you can ride a bike around the southern part in about 40 minutes, experiencing the installations and works takes time and it took two visits to cover a major portion of what is on show. I think at least 3 days would be better.

Chichu Art Museum
It is interesting visiting an art museum with only five exhibits or three artists – Walter De Maria, James Turrell and Claude Monet. You could say four artists if you count Tadao Ando’s museum as a piece of art and I think in this case you can. In many of the spaces it is hard to tell the line between building and art installation. The Chichu art museum is buried into the top of a hill overlooking the Sea. When in the museum you don’t appreciate this until you have a break in the cafe and the view unfolds before you. Up until that point it is a progression through spaces that challenge your perception and distort your senses.
The entry is quite austere, an off form concrete wall with an opening. A concrete underground corridor leads you to the first of two courts. This one is the square court and a stair wraps around this court which is planted with long grass evenly cut. The square court is open to the sky and slight breezes move the grass as you pass by up the stairs. Past the square and the gallery shop the walls start to tilt and you feel like you are not quite at the right angle. In this corridor the walls are actually at about six degrees from vertical making you unconsciously want to tilt your head to one side as you are walking.

At the end of the corridor is the next open court, this one triangular (I only know that it is triangular by looking at the plan afterwards - the top drawing above shows what I thought I saw). At the time I thought I was looking at part of another square. The interesting thing about this court is a slot in the concrete walls that appears to defy gravity. This slot travels the length of two sides cutting through the internal corner. At the base of this court large flat slabs of stone cover the earth. Throughout the museum Tadao Ando plays with our sense of inside and out. You go underground to come outside, once outside you go back inside where the slot connects directly back outside. In some ways the museum is like layers of an onion pealing back to reveal the galleries within.

Walter De Maria
A room devoted to Walter De Maria is the first exhibit. The room is arranged much like an ancient tiered theatre space with a sense of grandeur. De Maria’s Time/Timeless/No time has been incorporated with the space or specifically the space is solely for this work, it has been a collaborative effort between De Maria and Ando. A large black green granite ball (2.2 metres in diameter) is the focus of the space. It sits on the central landing in the tiered space and - although not on the edge – feels precarious in its position. One slight push could send the sphere crashing down the steps into the entry door trapping us forever in the room. A collection of 27 gold leaf plated solid timber sculptures surround the sphere against the walls of the space. Are these the prize? Are these the real treasure of the room? In my mind I am in an Indiana Jones movie and if I try and move one of the gold pieces the sphere will start its movement towards the door and I have to race to get through to avoid being entombed forever.

In later reading I learn that the timber sculptures are based around mathematical progressions and these particular pieces are entitled “The 3-4-5 Series”. There are 27 in total, eleven on the floor and 16 fixed to wall. Although I did not notice at the time, three shapes are used – a triangle, square and pentagon. Each of the 27 is a unique configuration.

Overall the impression was a sense of emptiness in the space. A quiet solitude that in our busy lives was somewhat unnerving. What was I supposed to do here? The emptiness threatened to engulf me. Interestingly my two sons (who are 9 & 10) held back and wanted to stay longer. They were completely comfortable in the emptiness, although somewhat mesmerised by the sphere – I don’t know whether they were waiting for the right moment to give it a push and break the silence.

James Turrell
There are three pieces by James Turrell in this museum. On the way through to these works we pass his Afrum, Pale Blue, 1968 and initially it could have been easy to miss. Not that it was poorly located, just that it appeared to be part of the architecture. A square of light appears on the corner of a wall in a darkened vestibule and after the progression through angled walled corridors and ramps with slotted openings I was initially tricked into thinking that this was an interesting corner window. From a certain angle (the angle I initially looked) the window or light appeared as a rectangle and this drew me in as I wondered how the apparent opening had managed to create the illusion. On closer inspection it was revealed to be a projected rectangle of light which became a hexagon of light depending on the viewer’s angle. The intensity of light disguises the corner and when the work is viewed from a certain angle the hexagon can appear as a three dimensional cube floating in space.

The others did not notice this work and I found them in the next of Terrell’s work – Open Sky. A concrete bench seat wraps around a square empty room or space, above is a square patch of blue light. It is a very bright room – is this another light sculpture? Sitting down I have time to examine some of the details of the space. The air is quite cool as my attention is drawn to the vapour trail of an airplane across the blue square above. It is open to the sky. Looking up now while sitting back I’m impressed by the fine edge of the square opening that gives the aperture that sense of flatness. The architect in me wants to get a ladder and examine how they did it. I wonder what it would be like in here on a rainy day or at night (they do have night visits). I also think what a nice thing it is to just sit and look up into the sky. This is a different feeling to the De Maria space. Am I relaxing or is it because this enclosure is smaller and more intimate. There are also more people in this space taking their time watching the plane disappear off the opening. When I move to get up my hand is on the seat and I notice that the bench is heated, no wonder it was comfortable.

Walking back inside we are motioned to remove our shoes before viewing the next piece of work which is hidden from view. This is Open Field, 2000 and we stop in front of set of black granite steps in front of a rectangle of light blue/purple. Unsure of what to do next we look back at one of the guides who motions us to move up the stairs and into the light. A room of light blue envelopes us. In here the floor slopes and walls don’t appear to be at right angles to each other. It is also hard to define the corners, although that could be the intensity of the light. Looking back through the opening the white wall outside now appears to be yellow. Exiting back through the opening is a bit precarious down the polished black granite steps, a bit like when you step out from watching a movie during the day into the bright sunshine – it feels a bit surreal.

Claude Monet
Japan has a love affair with the work of Claude Monet and the impressionists and this is not the first time Tadao Ando has designed a space around these painters. In Kyoto there is an outdoor Garden of Fine Arts with ceramic copies of some of the most famous paintings in history including the last supper and Monet’s waterlilies horizontal in a pond. This sounds tacky; however with the combination of Ando’s austere concrete forms and atmosphere of running water it forms the function of a small urban break – not quite an oasis though (no plants).

In the Chichu Museum it is more restrained, probably because here these are original pieces. There are 5 paintings in all; Water Lilies (1914-17), Water Lilies - Cluster of Grass (1914-17), Water Lilies – Reflections of Weeping Willows (1916-19), Water-lily Pond (1917-19) and Water-lily pond (Diptych, 1915-26). Obviously in this section collaboration between artist and architect is not possible but the resulting space puts an interesting take on time and display. It feels like there has been a collaboration of sorts in 21st century Japan. Monet’s paintings have been inserted into an austere white modern space almost spiritual in form. The paintings do not have the elaborate frames from the time period – they are frameless. Am I looking at Monet transported in a time machine? The room is quite seductive with curved corners to allow a smooth transition from one painting to another and the floor is made of dice sized cubes of white marble. You have to take your shoes off before entering and the feel of the cubes is an experience in itself and although I personally found the experience quite serene also I am left with questions about the overall setting for these pieces?

Landscape
It is not until you enter the cafe that the view of the landscape and the Seto Inland Sea appears before your eyes. All chairs in the cafe face the view through a frameless glass window. This is the framed view like that of a traditional Japanese house upon a part of a garden. I am reminded of Katsura Villa in Kyoto where the view from each opening of each structure is a unique experience.

Although the main body of the museum could be any location this is the link to locality and place, a subtle Zen view.

people on the train

2010-02-27T15:57:00.000+11:00

While house sitting in Osaka over December and January we caught the train back and forth both in Osaka and further a field. The trains run to perfection and if you are 30 seconds late forget it - it's the next train for you. On the train everyone tries their best to ignore everyone else either by concentrating intensely on their mobile phone or instantaneously falling asleep. Always they miraculously awake at their stop. Sometimes people set alarms for the time it takes as they can always be assured it will be correct.

The skill at ignoring all around allowed me to draw the faces of people sitting opposite. Some caught me while in the process and most often fell instantly asleep.

the festival of fabric

2010-02-07T14:58:00.000+11:00

At Ueno Park in Tokyo a drama unfolds in what appears to be the festival of fabric. Walking to the end of the park we find a large group of people gathered, however something seems wrong about this crowd, for one thing there seems to be too many men and they are all about the same age. Then there is the sudden realisation that this is not a festival at all but a queue - a soup kitchen queue. Hundreds wait patiently for food and a haircut. One of the helpers walks past me and looks me in the eye and gives a tired sigh.

As a photographer I struggle with this situation, where I know others would be snapping away, but I can't bring myself to take any photos where I feel I would be taking advantage of someone else's misfortune. Beyond the turmoil is the real festival of fabric hanging in the trees and through the landscape. I take some images here but my mind is somewhere else. There are other photographers here - I wonder what is on their minds, especially the one with the super telephoto lens.

Back through the park the types of fabric change and become something quite different. What I am looking at is no longer part of the festival. Walking back to the train station a wall of noise emerges from a Pachinko parlour.