Last weekend I joined some colleagues from the OCA in Gateshead/Newcastle for a visit to the Turner prize exhibit at the Baltic. Jim Lloyd, who organised the visit has done a write up here Jim's OCA Drawing 1 Blog: Turner Prize so I shall try not to duplicate too much of what he has said.
The opportunity to mix with a small number of people from other disciplines was one I’m glad I didn’t miss – there was plenty to talk about all day (I know – shutting me up is the trick – sorry guys) and even then I think I only really scratched the surface of the opportunities an enhanced understanding other media might bring to my practise.
As Jim noted the early start was definitely a good idea because even though we had a decent chat over coffee as we all arrived we still managed to miss the queue and the crowds.
Turner prize exhibits
Martin Boyce – not sure what to make of this. The litter bin and wind blown ‘leaves’ was an interesting execution but I wasn’t quite sure of it’s purpose or message, similarly the ‘table’ which reminded me of an old school desk with its oddly angular graffiti. The display was brought to life for me by a small child , who looking at a similar bunch of angular letters stuck to a board on the wall said: ‘Mummy, those letters look so sad’. And they did. Perhaps sometimes we need to set aside the intellectual baggage we bring to these events and just let our emotion do the work. Whoever she was – I’m grateful to her.
Hilary Lloyd – I thought this exhibit was very cold, consisting as it did of projector boxes and TV screens in a brightly lit white room. We were assured by the attendant that the almost obsessive attention to neatness in the cabling was an integral part of the work which led me to the thought that the message was easily subverted by simply walking behind the TV screens and viewing them from the wrong side, or using the projector beams to cast shadow puppets (one I tried, one I didn’t) We did observe that the adults were strangely reluctant to break the beams – very few crossed the imaginary line which linked the projectors. Obviously the same was not true of the kids – which leads me to wonder if the aim was not to get us to question our relationship with art. In some ways I wish I’d made the rabbit shadow with my fingers – she might even have approved if we’re to believe this bit of blurb: “Foregrounding the apparatus of viewing and choreographing our physical relationship with the work, she proposes a rethinking of the ways in which we engage with the moving image”
Karla Black – this was the standout exhibit for me. The main work looked like the results of a primary school craft session after the kids had left but before the teachers had cleared up only 100 times larger. At the far end of the room was a huge mound of paper (you could walk under it – it was not solid) which flowed down like left-over papier mache to an area full of paint powder, paint bombs , small coloured blocks, cellophane etc. At the risk of a rather trivial comparison, in Ratatouille they win over the cynical old restaurant critic by serving him a simple ratatouille that takes him back to his days as a child – and this had a similar effect on me. I didn’t want to stand and look at it, I wanted to be in there turning it into a papier mache dinosaur or something. From Jim’s notes I’m perhaps glad that I didn’t go to her talk – this hit me at the emotional level and it would have been a shame to spoil it.
George Shaw – perhaps the most disappointing exhibit for me. Not George’s fault I hasten to add – I saw ‘The Sly and Unseen Day’ back in February and was mightily impressed so I brought rather high expectations with me – perhaps too high. The much smaller number of paintings and wider spacing reduced their impact, and the content was not something I found particularly easy to identify with.
Overall my money would go on Karla Black – so that’s presumably ruined her chances :0)
Three of us – myself, Michael and Sarah – didn’t attend the artists talk, preferring instead to make the short walk to the Side Gallery across the river which was showing two exhibitions, one of John Heartfield posters/artwork and one of August Sander photos.
The gallery itself is quite small and intimate almost to the point that it feels like viewing the images at home. Heartfield was downstairs. I was not previously familiar with his very striking work which uses elements of photomontage and design to put across fairly blunt political messages. Given the anti-Nazi tone of much of the material on display it is no surprise that he was banned for a considerable period in Germany before and during WWII. Technically I think much of the work must have been cutting edge, and is still worth looking at today – even if it would now be easier to achieve.Some of the anti-war and anti-racist rhetoric had a surprisingly modern feel but some of the messages were simply too unsubtle – I suspect that is my modern sensibility kicking in.
Upstairs was an exhibit of August Sander prints – which is what the two photographers amongst us had come to see. I was surprised how small they were, but as Michael observed they were probably contact prints from a 4x5 plate or similar. Much of the writing about Sander talks about his attempts at objectivity and categorising, but I saw photos that had a genuine sympathy for their subject. Yes, they were formally posed – particularly the shot of the artisan and peasant classes – but I sensed a genuine love of people coming from the shots. It would be possible to read quite a lot into the poses and dress – the bohemians in the shots tended to prefer angled poses in relaxed clothing and appeared unconcerned by the camera. The poorer people on the other hand, had clearly gone to some trouble to find their Sunday best and very often looked straight into the camera – which must have been a weird and wonderful piece of kit for some of them.
Our visit was over all too quickly – and I wont get a second chance to go and see the Sanders – which is a shame – so I’m glad I took this opportunity.
The Side has recently had much of its funding withdrawn. On the basis of the evidence I saw it is worth supporting, so my plea would be – get yourself along there and make sure you put something in the donation box.