The work of Robert Hunter (b. 1947) explores the possibilities of geometric abstraction through minimalistic compositions and experimentation with subtle tonal shifts and variations. Hunter primarily engages with the nuances of the colour white in pursuit of spatial depth and an optical complexity that allows each work to provide multiple perceptual and emotional experiences depending on the circumstances in which it is viewed.

Such characteristics can be seen in No.3 (1986) exhibited at the NGV: Ian Potter’s Center, which consists of a large plywood surface delicately painted with white synthetic polymer paint. The work adopts the emphasis on geometric shapes, use of line, optical phenomena, and the mathematical logistics and precision founded by the first wave of ‘Minimal Artists’ in 1960s America. (Hunter notably worked in the late 70s with minimalist sculptor Carl Andre.[1]) No.3 reflects this influence, with similarities that can be drawn to artists such as Robert Mangold and Robert Ryman, who are also concerned with the colour white and it’s potential optical effects.[2] When viewed from afar, one immediately notices the shifts in tones of white and the delicate linework of the painting, which creates a field composed of basic geometric shapes. However this illusion of simplicity is ruptured as one is encouraged to slowly pace towards the work; the lines take on bolder forms, and noticeable divisions of basic shapes create a geometric abstraction. On closer inspection, the work is indeed composed of an amalgamation of smaller shapes, each given it’s own entity with slight alterations in the tones of white. However despite the suddenness of apparent complexity and chaos, the work avoids tarnishing it’s minimalist qualities through it’s delicate lines. These lines allow a multiplicity of the paintings elements, yet their softness maintains the holistic integrity of the work that we see standing from afar.  Through such a simple action, one gains an insight into the way in which our perspective manipulates the shapes, forms and colours of an artwork into more concrete and recognizable forms. Notions of perspective are also challenged by the way in which we are asked to engage in a work that varies in spatial depth, yet still remains entirely two-dimensional. Hunter’s work therefore provides revelations on behalf of the viewer that support the statement of founding minimal artist Robert Morris that validates the importance of the emerging of Minimal Art; “simplicity of form is not necessarily simplicity of experience.”[3]

On an emotional level, the work also holds a certain tranquillity, as after one engages with the works subtle complexity, one appreciates the moment of relief it provides when in contrast with the vibrancy and noise of surrounding works. This element of calmness and quietness may act as a catalyst for meditation or philosophical contemplation, as the mind is forced into a kind of perceptual trance. This reaction demonstrates Hunter’s understanding of light and it’s effects on colour, as his minute alterations of shades of white reveal a deeply personal practice that could be seen as driven by an interest in the logic and precision associated with manipulating the behaviour of reflective light.

After viewing Hunter’s No.3 it can be said that a viewer experiences both a complex perceptual and emotional reaction, which reflects Hunter’s mastery of geometric abstraction in his subtlety of shape and line.

[1]http://www.johnbuckley.com.au/exhibitions/group/neominimalism/index.html#2

[2] Marzona, Daniel, Minimal Art, p70-73, p80-83

[3] Marzona, Daniel, Minimal Art, p78

10:46 pm  •  13 April 2011

Directed by Zach Freeman, and narrated by painter, author and filmmaker Hughes de Montalembert, this film explores loss, perception, memory and faith as it narrates the experience of de Montalembert as a man who embraces the tragedy of attack and subsequent loss of eyesight.

The film consists of the musing of de Montalembert as he deals with his assault and loss of eyesight, as he narrates his documentation of independent world travel and living with a heightened sensory perception. The film itself is evidential of human resilience and hope as a man delves beyond tragedy into the synergy of body and mind, and I found this particularly interesting as it explores the shift between complete visionary perception and thinking to a more profound sensory lifestyle. His descriptions become art forms themselves as they allow insight into this unique mans introversion and renewed thought processes, as well as his emotional response to what is around him constructed by his heightened senses. As an art student, it is interesting to see the perception of life without vision, and how one may further pursue creative endeavours without sight. Visually, the film consist of non-representational cinematography, which is “ingeniously putting the blind narrator into the role of the painter who must describe, with all his creativity, what the audience cannot see for themselves.” From this film, an audience is able to gain insight into the complexity of human consciousness and the relationships between senses, and for me, this was particularly inspirational in further tackling notions of the human condition and exploring the minds functionalities when in isolation. 

10:40 pm  •  14 October 2010

The Bridge is a documentary that explores one of life’s gravest taboo that is suicide, in a film that is both beautiful and entirely horrific. The film documents the stories of the lives of those who took their own lives, and those who made unrealised attempts of suicide from San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge- a landmark evidential of man’s industrial accomplishments, and now also a destination of those who willingly depart our world. The various interviews of friends, family and victims reveal the circumstances in which many choose to seal their fate, and the footage offers glimpses into the hearts of those most affected by suicide. 

Visually, the film is certainly striking, as the filmmakers’ captured fragments of those actually jumping from the bridge itself- capturing their last waking breath. However, what moved me most about the film was the brutal honesty in which the topic was discussed. Rather than focusing entirely on the horror of suicide, the film digs deeper, beyond the surface of tragedy, with many interviews revealing true empathy towards those struggling with depression, substance abuse and mental illness. I found that though many were personally affected by the subject, they discussed it without any introversion or self-obsession- bypassing anger and shame, and expressing a New-Age understanding and acceptance of the subject. With an interest in issues such as mental illness, I found the film particularly interesting, as it explored a subject that delves deep into the human psyche and extremity without religious juxtaposition or contempt. 

9:17 pm  •  14 October 2010  •  1 note

The solid exhibition of the photographic work of Carol Jerrems at Heide Museum of Modern Art, Melbourne reflects her mastery of candid photography and portraiture- displaying romantic embraces, constructed intimacies, and the strength of women with complete honesty. One gains an extraordinary insight into the lifestyle of Jerrems- such as her association with counter-culture rebels and struggle with depression. Most of the photographs are merely 8x10, and though small, the works remain emotionally intense with beautiful composition. The highlight of the exhibition for me, was the photographs in which Jerrems struggling with illness in hospital, essentially documenting her slow transcendence from our world into the afterlife, expressing the emotions of her reality. Kathy Drayton sums up her work by noting “Her photographs engage the viewer in an intimate relationship with her subjects. It’s not always a friendly intimacy – sometimes her subjects look defensive, irritated or even menacing, but you always sense that you’re seeing beyond the mask into the soul.”

Carol Jerrems, Mozart Street (1975)

Carol Jerrems, Mark and Flappers, 1975

Carol Jerrems, Lynn (1976)

9:13 pm  •  14 October 2010

Although this entry on the factless autobiography The Book of Disquiet by Portuguese writer Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935) is in so sense concerned with visual encounters, it has been particularly inspirational in how I myself see the world around me, and Pessoa’s writings have very much influenced my current artistic practice and concerns.

The novel itself was accumulated from the notebooks and scraps of paper between 1912 and 1935, and it is thus a completely honest expression of a lonely and reclusive man who muses about his own human condition and his existence during his (as he portrays it) entirely mundane and uninteresting life. Known to suffer from multiple personality disorder, Pessoa’s writings show subtle distinction between different mindsets and thoughts that come with it, with some diary entries portraying the extremity that the narrator is someone almost in a state of non-being. Written in beautifully eloquent prose, Pessoa writes of boredom, lethargy and failure, and the fascinating obscurity of his thoughts are revealed in each and every sentence. Earlier, having only read a few pages of the book, I was interested, yet not entirely keen to begin this book until I had finished my current reading. It was only when a friend had been going through a rough period mentally, and they partially attributed their change in behaviour and state of mind to “too much Pessoa” that I decided to further investigate this book, and understand how such a book could impact so heavily on one’s thoughts. Indeed, it is a book with no need for chronological reading. With existential undertones and emphasis on the human condition, isolation and spirituality that influence my conceptual thinking, I carry it with me everywhere- especially when travelling, so that at any moment I may open the book to a page, begin reading, and immediately gain inspiration and insight into this enigmatic man and his disquieting diary.

Quotes:

“Art gives us the illusion of liberation from the sordid business of being.” “The logical reward of my detachment from life is the incapacity I’ve created in others to feel anything for me. There’s an aureole of indifference, an icy halo, that surrounds me and repels others. I still haven’t succeeded in not suffering from my solitude. It’s hard to achieve that distinction of spirit whereby isolation becomes a repose without anguish.”

“To feel today what one felt yesterday isn’t to feel – it is to remember today what was felt yesterday, to be today’s living corpse of what yesterday was lived and lost.” “I am the outskirts of some non-existent town, the long-winded prologue to an unwritten book. I nobody, nobody. I don’t know how to feel or think or love. I’m a character in a novel as yet unwritten, hovering in the air and undone before I’ve even existed, amongst the dreams of someone who never quite managed to breathe life into me.”

“My life- a tragedy booed off the stage by the gods, never getting beyond the first act.”

“When one of my Japanese teacups is broken, I imagine that the real cause was not the careless hand of a maid, but the anxieties of the figures inhabiting the curves of the porcelain. Their grim decision to commit suicide doesn’t shock me: they used the maid as one of us might use a gun.”

“My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tambours I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.”

“Everything, all that I’ve written, is grey. My life, even my mental life, has been like a drizzly day in which everything is non-occurrence and haziness, empty privilege and forgotten purpose. I agonize in tattered silks. In the light and in tedium I see but don’t know myself.”

10:14 pm  •  30 September 2010

Since hearing the ethereal sound of Icelandic band Sigur Ros, their music has influenced my creative process through tender and harmonious sounds. The full length documentary entitled Heima (My Home) documents the band during their free tour of Iceland following their highly successful world tour.

Visually, the documentary shows breathtaking Icelandic scenery, emphasising the bands emotional connection with the landscape and the importance of family and togetherness.  It is as much a documentary of the bands travels as it is a snapshot into the culture and values of Icelandic people. It illustrates Iceland as a place of untainted beauty and purity, and these moods are reflected in their music. 

Within my artistic practice I enjoy exploring ideas of existentialism, my relationship with landscape (particularly the ‘foundations’ and hidden energies within it) and aspects of the human condition. I found the film particularly interesting as it explored the beauty within ragged, desolate landscapes, and to me, it is this untarnished environment that holds a particular energy and purity that I would one day hope to explore as a part of my practice. It is also in these places of isolation that I find inspiration, as they allow personal reflections, contemplations and revelations of the human condition and existence which may be unaltered by modern thinking that inevitably comes with technological advancement and industrial and consumer based societies. As demonstrated through the music of Sigur Ros, this environment allows clarity in thought, and an inner expression in its purest form, and their success may be attributed to their ability to express emotion from a more profound place that is foreign to most people. 

4:27 am  •  28 September 2010  •  1 note

“Mari Funaki (1950-2010) was well known as one of Australia’s leading contemporary jewellers and metal-smiths. Working predominantly with gold and blackened mild steel, she was highly regarded for her distinctive geometric jewellery forms and sculptural objects.” (via NGV website)

The retrospective exhibition of Mari Funaki entitled Objects at Ian Potter Centre: NGV, is essentially an amalgamation of ‘objects’ in the full sense of the phrase- a variety of blackened sculptural forms that explore space, line, mass and volume with a characteristic consistency and mathematical precision. Recently, I have been partial to admiring and constructing more minimalistic, monochromatic works, and I therefore found Mari Funaki’s works to be particularly engaging. I was also engaged by the seeming weightlessness of the works- the way in which these insect-like sculptures appear dainty and light, yet remain grounded with the sheer weight of blackened metal. I also found the domination of black to be highly enchanting (as usual) as the sense of infinity and depth creates a spectral element of silence. Objects is an exhibition that ultimately allows the audience to fall into deep states of imagination and reminiscing, with complex objects that stimulate the mind. 

Mari Funaki, Object (2008)

Mari Funaki, Container (2008)

Mari Funaki, Container (2008)

Mari Funaki, Object (2008)

(Images via artblart)

9:55 pm  •  25 September 2010

“The works in ‘Subtractions’ explore the possibility of tension and space within a three dimensional surface; although Torikov is trained as a painter, her current work replaces traditional subject matter and colour with an abstract composition of white shapes. Foamcore has replaced linen and brushes have been exchanged for a sharp knife.” (via fortyfivedownstairs)

Subtractions, the latest series by Lena Torikov displayed at fortyfivedownstairs Gallery in Flinders Lane explores the reinterpretation of cityscapes through spatial experimentation, critical processes and mathematics of forms. The works consist of combinations of geometric and organic planes made of white foam core to create three-dimensional works that to me, reflect the complexity of modern day building and construction and our relationships with these structures in urban living.

The series resonates an aspect of complication and tension both in construction process and overall aesthetics, as each piece of foam is arranged in combinations to reflect actual cityscapes of the world from sky view, as well as in a way that allows all pieces to fit together and be complimented by surrounding light. To me, the works express positive and negative aspects of urban expansion; with the beauty and elegance of construction celebrating modern architecture and our interaction with man-made spaces, and the density in construction emphasising the often loud and chaotic nature of inner city living.

As expressed by Torikov’s sister on her blog, it is undeniable that Torikov’s vision, dedication and positive obsession with form and space that allows such elegant structures to be made. “One thing I know about Lena’s work is that it evolves from tireless, disciplined and critical process. Her focus is far from superficial and never flighty. This is the obsessive aspect; she will not grab at any idea until she has worked through relentlessly to what she sees as completion and then move on.”

4:35 am  •  24 September 2010  •  1 note

Upon viewing the work of Pat Brassington for the first time at Arc One Gallery, I was not so much emotionally stirred as I was intrigued by the imagery and use of space in her undeclared and slightly unnerving series of pigment prints. The collages portray scenarios dominated by the unsaid, with peculiar subject matter and space that together, flirt with ideas of memory, delusion and complete fiction, which take on the form of something of a fragmented storybook with a dark twist.

The works are rich in deformity and strangeness, yet in no sense challenging or overbearing. I personally felt a sense of silence when viewing the works, as the subject matter stands in hazy, desolate spaces which seem to be affected by time in an entirely different way to our own. I noticed an underlying darkness and trauma through the works, associated with the facelessness of figures and their isolation in space.  Such can be seen in works such as Stare (2010), in which the space is dominated by a girl facing her back towards us. Such a minimal composition is intriguing in its sense of mystery, and along with Brassington’s other works it is this aspect of the unseen- the hidden, the mysterious and the unknown that stimulates the mind and encourages multiple interpretations of her work. 

Pat Brassington, Stare (2009)

Pat Brassington, Radar (2009)

Pat Brassington, Sensors (2010)

(images via artblart)

4:27 am  •  24 September 2010  •  2 notes

Recently when my father visited me in Melbourne he noted he had ‘some sculpture book’ that he had decided to throw away, and asked me if I was interested in having it. Of course, any book pertaining to art or design can always be influential or inspiring, so I asked him to bring it next time he visited. A few weeks later, he arrived with a 180 page, full colour retrospective of Romantic sculptor Auguste Rodin, complete with masterly text by Dominique Jarassé detailing his masterpieces, open creative processes, personal life and accomplishments, and a multiplicity of sketches and fragments.

Though my interests mainly stay within the constraints of Contemporary Art, I had always been inspired and mesmerized by Rodin’s sculptures. With such skill and technique he gave to his form and modelling, the composition of his works are truly bold and breathtaking- taut muscles, hellish visions, tormented souls, beautiful embraces and lamenting figures. The book also details Rodin’s masterpieces such as The Gates of Hell (1880-1917) and The Kiss (1886-98) and discusses his contribution to Modernism. If anybody I know personally would like to borrow it, feel free to let me know. 

Auguste Rodin, The Gates Of Hell (detail) (1880-1917)

Auguste Rodin, The Kiss (1886-98)

9:32 pm  •  18 September 2010

MELT, ch. Naomi Lafrance, 2010

“During the highs of NYC’s heat waves, MELT embodies its full meaning when seven dancers perched on small seats affixed to a wall and wrapped in sculptural beeswax and lanolin costumes are slowly melting away. Dancers gradually progress in euphoria and exhaustion as if approaching the sun, melting until their souls escape their ephemeral bodies and disintegrate into light. This surreal performance enraptures the audience in a sensual, dramatic and delicate experience of the physical body in exile and surrender.” (via e-artnow)

Whilst obviously being unable to attend the dance performance of MELT, having come across many images and video footage of the performance in Lower Manhattan, New York.  I found it to be highly intriguing and powerful with a focus on the ephemeral and the dramatisation of the spiritual qualities of the sun. With a balance between the dynamic and the lethargic, the bodies move in reaction to heat and in surrender of the sun. It amplifies the role of the sun as both a means of spiritual cleaning and purgation, with the costuming delicately giving the figures a sensual, yet in no sense erotic quality. I am particularly enamoured with the idea that the performance is entirely nonspecific in terms of the time period, thus focusing on this interaction with sun and heat itself as a universal, everlasting spiritual correspondence. 

CLICK HERE FOR A LINK TO WEBSITE WITH VIDEO

10:47 pm  •  14 September 2010

The highly delicate work of John Davis exhibited in Presence both at the National Gallery of Victoria and Arc One Gallery in Flinders Lane is deemed highly evocative and expressive of the fragility of the landscape and its elements. His works speak strongly now of environmental issues than ever before, and his manipulation and respect for materials emphasises his passion for the land, and his representations of fish manifest human relationships with the environment. I recently found an extract via artblart in relation to Davis’ work, and I felt it necessary to share it in order to highlight its relevance:

“‘When a man starts to learn, he is never clear about his objectives. His purpose is faulty; his intent is vague. He hopes for rewards that will never materialize, for he knows nothing of the hardships of learning.

‘He slowly begins to learn – bit by bit at first, then in big chunks. And his thoughts soon clash. What he learns is never what he pictured, or imagined, and so he begins to be afraid. Learning is never what one expects. Every step of learning is a new task, and the fear the man is experiencing begins to mount mercilessly, unyieldingly. His purpose becomes a battlefield.

‘And thus he has stumbled upon the first of his natural enemies : Fear! A terrible enemy – treacherous, and difficult to overcome. It remains concealed at every turn of the way, prowling, waiting. And if the man, terrified in its presence, runs away, his enemy will have put an end to his quest.’

‘What will happen to the man if he runs away in fear?’

‘Nothing happens to him except that he will never learn. He will never become a man of knowledge. He will perhaps be a bully or a harmless, scared man; at any rate, he will be a defeated man. His first enemy will have put an end to his cravings.’

‘And what can he do to overcome fear?’

‘The answer is very simple. He must not run away. He must defy his fear, and in spite of it he must take the next step in learning, and the next, and the next. He must be fully afraid, and yet he must not stop. That is the rule! And a moment will come when his first enemy retreats. The man begins to feel sure of himself. His intent becomes stronger. Learning is no longer a terrifying task.

‘When this joyful moment comes, then he can say without hesitation that he has defeated his first natural enemy.’

‘Does it happen at once, don Juan, or little by little?’

‘It happens little by little, and yet the fear is vanquished suddenly and fast.’

‘But won’t the man be afraid again if something new happens to him?’

‘No. Once a man has vanquished fear, he is free from it for the rest of his life because, instead of fear, he has acquired clarity – a clarity of mind which erases fear. By then a man knows his desires; he knows how to satisfy those desires. He can anticipate the new steps of learning, and a sharp clarity surrounds everything. The man feels that nothing is concealed.

‘And thus he has encountered his second enemy : Clarity! That clarity of mind, which is so hard to obtain, dispels fear, but also blinds.

‘It forces the man never to doubt himself. It gives him the assurance he can do anything he pleases, for he sees clearly into everything. And he is courageous because he is clear, and he stops at nothing because he is clear. But all that is a mistake; it is like something incomplete. If the man yields o this make-believe power, he has succumbed to his second enemy and will fumble with learning. He will rush when he should be patient, or he will be patient when he should rush. And he will fumble with learning until he winds up incapable of learning anything more.’

‘What becomes of a man who is defeated in that way, don Juan? Does he die as a result?’

‘No, he doesn’t die. His second enemy has just stopped him cold from trying to become a man of knowledge; instead, the man may turn into a buoyant warrior, or a clown. Yet the clarity for which he has paid so dearly will never change to darkness and fear again. He will be clear as long as he lives, but he will no longer learn, or yearn for, anything.’

‘But what does he have to do to avoid being defeated?’

‘He must do what he did with fear : he must defy his clarity and use it only to see, and wait patiently and measure carefully before taking new steps; he must think, above all, that his clarity is almost a mistake. And a moment will come when he will understand that his clarity was only a point before his eyes, And thus he will have overcome his second enemy, and will arrive at a position where nothing can harm him any more. This will not be a mistake. It will not be only a point before his eyes. It will be true power.

‘He will know at this point that the power he has been pursuing for so long is finally his. He can do with it whatever he pleases. His ally is at his command. His wish is the rule. He sees all that is around him. But he has also come across his thirst enemy : Power!

‘Power is the strongest of all enemies, And naturally the easiest thing to do is to give in; after all, the man is truly invincible. He commands; he begins by taking calculated risks, and ends in making rules, because he is a master.

‘A man at this stage hardly notices his third enemy closing in on him. And suddenly, without knowing, he will certainly have lost the battle. His enemy will have turned him into a cruel, capricious man.’

‘Will he lose his power?’

‘No, he will never lose his clarity or his power.’

‘What then will distinguish him from a man of knowledge?’

‘A man who is defeated by power dies without really knowing how to handle it. Power is only a burden upon his fate. Such a man has no command over himself, and cannot tell when or how to use his power.’

‘Is the defeat by any of these enemies a final defeat?’

‘Of course it is final. Once one of these enemies overpowers a man there is nothing he can do.’

‘Is it possible, for instance, that the man who is defeated by power may see his error and mend his ways?’

‘No. Once a man gives in he is through.’

‘But what if he is temporarily blinded by power, and then refuses it?’

‘That means the battle is still on. That means he is still trying to become a man of knowledge. A man is defeated only when he no longer tries, and abandons himself.’

‘But then, don Juan, it is possible that a man may abandon himself to fear for years, but finally conquer it.’

‘No, that is not true. If he gives in to fear he will never conquer it, he will shy away from learning and never try again. But if he tries to learn for years in the midst of his fear, he will eventually conquer it because he will never have really abandoned himself to it.’

‘How can he defeat his third enemy, don Juan?’

‘He has to defy it, deliberately. He has to come to realize the power he has seemingly conquered is in reality never his. He must keep himself in line at all times, handling carefully and faithfully all that he has learned. If he can see that clarity and power, without his control over himself, are worse than mistakes, he will reach a point where everything is held in check. He will know then when and how to use his power. And thus he will have defeated his third enemy.

‘The man will be, by then, at the end of his journey of learning, and almost without warning he will come upon the last of his enemies : Old age! This enemy is the cruelest of all, the one he won’t be able to defeat completely, but only fight away.

‘This is the time when a man has no more fears, no more impatient clarity of mind – a time when all his power is in check, but also the time when he has an unyielding desire to rest. If he gives in totally to his desire to lie down and forget, if he soothes himself in tiredness, he will have lost his last round, and his enemy will cut him down into a feeble old creature. His desire to retreat will overrule all his clarity, his power, and his knowledge.

‘But if the man sloughs off his tiredness, and lives his fate through, he can then be called a man of knowledge, if only for a brief moment when he succeeds in fighting off his last, invincible enemy. That moment of clarity, power, and knowledge is enough.”

Carlos Castaneda. ‘The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge’3

John Davis, Nomad (detail) (1998)

John Davis, Collection 128 (1996)

John Davis, River (1998)

(Images via artblart)

10:06 pm  •  8 September 2010

Kevin White is an internationally renowned ceramic artist educated in England and Japan. His respect for his materials, combined with expertise acquired through countless hours of making are integral to White’s creative language, allowing for a certain restraint and emphasis of formal sculptural qualities. White’s sheared cone vessels echo a simplicity of line akin to Japanese ceremonial dotaku bells. (via Flinders Lane Gallery Website)

When viewing the simply adorned vessels of ceramic artist Kevin White, one can appreciate the integrity of East Asian porcelain tradition, as well as White’s sensitivity towards creating patterns that combine the aesthetics of earth and air through underglazes and glazes in a painterly style without disrupting the overall delicacy of the forms. From this style of adornment, the works transfer characteristics of freehand painting to be read in a three dimensional form, which encourages the viewer’s eyes to circle each of the vessels in an attempt to deconstruct the contrast of earthy browns and light streaks of blue. I felt a sense of wholeness as I circled the works, seeing the interrelationship between the oriental influenced earthy tones and sky blues. To me, this represented the duality of land and sky; a part of the natural world to which one may attribute their own sense of stability and calm as they hold both gravity and air to breathe. 

Kevin White, Vessel 1(rotated view)

7:20 pm  •  30 August 2010

Having undertaken fine art training under the tutelage of Chinese master painters, French born artist Christophe Stibio’s resulting practice revolves around a work ethic combining patience, control and an astute awareness of time. Exploring ideas of becoming and emergence, Christophe’s representations of the desert regions of southern New South Wales capture the experience of an optical mirage. Shifting masses of hills and dust merge, shadow and light undulate and the whole field of space and time collide in an infinite moment. (via Flinders Lane Gallery Website)

Christophe Stibio’s landscape series Lakes Mungo- Arumpo Series 4 explores the harsh, disharmonious desert landscape in terms of the perception of the land beyond physical subject matter and preconceived notions. With a combination of French and Chinese education in painting, Stibio expanded his practice and his mind, as he “learned the dualistic process of following rules and then knowing how to let go of them.” This can be seen in this series of works that visually investigate a deeply personal reaction and response to the landscape; re-creating a space through reorganisation and restriction that reflects the intimacy between Stibio and the landscape. In terms of the physical qualities of the work, the works hold an optical effect, in which the bold linework and contrasting colours almost create a kind of mirage or illusion. This reinforces the idea that there are existing aspects of the work beyond the canvas; aspects of the land that cannot be seen, emphasising both Stibio’s possibly enigmatic reaction to the landscape as well as an “interaction between the visible and the invisible, the known and the unknown.” 

Christophe Stibio, Sunset with Belinda #14

Christophe Stibio, Sunset with Belinda #11

7:18 pm  •  30 August 2010

Recently I headed out to my Grandparents estate in Springvale in the outer suburbs of Melbourne to gain insight into the sculptural practice of my Grandfather Gordon, and to better understand his technical processes and conceptual thinking.

I had grown up noticing these sculptures littered around the garden and indoors, but it never occurred to me until this year that he may have actually constructed them himself. The series of Gothic, lamenting figures in hooded cloaks are in fact representations of certain Opera singers that inspired my Grandfather. Each seems to hold a particular presence, almost as if they are nor alive nor dead; captured in their moment of transcendence from one world to another. Though being viewed in complete silence, one can almost hear the operatic sound from their throats as they appear staggering back, singing of bemoan or regret. When I asked about construction, he explained they consisted simply of a metal framework covered in Plaster of Paris followed by fibreglass strips, which was then spray painted and covered in various waxes and resins. Often however, the sculptures appeared in a greener tinge and seemed to be somewhat ‘eaten away’. My Grandfather explained how for some sculptures he locked them in a cupboard with hydrochloric acid, allowing the fumes to eat away at the construction- and in a way, sentencing a torturous, suffocating death to the sculptures he had given life to. 

It is interesting to see my Grandfathers artistic style as he treats subject matter much to my taste. His work not only reflects aspects of the human condition such as suffering and death, but it also creates a hidden energy by alluding to the power of voice, and it reflects characteristics of Gothic Horror- all of which are ideas and concepts that I find particularly inspiring and even frequently portray in my own work.

10:48 pm  •  28 August 2010