- Email: [email protected]
New millennium: art downunder
DISSECTING ROOM
The Refractory Action, apathy, silence, openness
This problem exposes the immediate ethical dilemmas that surround what action should be taken—not just by those in office, but by all those who work or study at the university or who contribute indirectly from the taxes they pay. It provides an example of the need to appreciate that often there are actually no onlookers and of the importance of being able to publicly voice arguments on such issues. Those readers of the BMJ who were moved to register their views provided fascinating perceptions both of the problem and possible solutions to it and calibrated the current temperature of ethical stances. Voters were nearly equally divided in opinion about the resignation issue. But the ayes had it and resignation followed with promise of retraction if the money were returned. Whistle-blowers and those who expose problems draw flack. Is it better to fight from within or without?
“And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their current turn awry. And lose the name of action.” Shakespeare, Hamlet, III.i.56
an neutrality ever be justified? One definition of neutral is: “a position of gear in which no power is transmitted”. Who might sound the horn or speak to the driver when the engine is idle? How often is neutrality a cover to mask an unwillingness to acknowledge areas of inter-dependence? The lowly Swiss bank employee who exposed the shredding of evidence of wartime deposits of ill-gotten money paid dearly with his job; a courageous example of taking action at great personal cost in order to be able to live with conscience. Apathy affects election results. The proportion of those voting provides a measure of the value citizens place on democracy: the proportion exercising responsibility before justifiably
C
claiming rights. Is silence an option when the management of a country is at stake, when politics are global? This measured malaise of apathy is sadly echoed in institutions and organisations more generally. Silence, ignorance, and apathy allow officeholders to forge ahead with commendable plans that are dependent on less commendable means. A straw poll in the BMJ in May drew 1075 voters from a readership of 120 000 (0·009%) on a universityfunding issue that has immense ethical, commercial, and global health implications. Papers for and against examined the question of whether a UK university should give back its tobacco money. The second voting question asked whether the journal’s editor should resign as professor of medical journalism at that university.
Refractor e-mail: [email protected]
New millennium: art downunder Prospect 2001: New Art New Zealand An exhibition at City Gallery, Wellington, New Zealand, showing until July 1, 2001. See www.newartnz.org.nz.
2062
canvases, memorials to her dead father, provide a bridge between abstraction and representation. Included in this group is a characteristic multiple cutout from Richard Killeen, two hauntingly beautiful canvases by Bill Hammond, Gavin Chilcott’s sculpture of a giant swan, three large heads by Richard McWhannell, geometric
Michael Parekowhai/Gow Langsford Gallery
P
r o s p ect 2001: New Art New Zealand represents an exciting initiative by Wellington’s City Gallery. Curated by Lara Strongman, it is the first of a planned series of biennial surveys of the most innovative artwork produced over, in this case, the past 3 years. Nothing like this has been attempted anywhere in New Zealand for many years, and the first iteration of the concept fittingly provides an exhilarating assault on all the senses. It fills the entire gallery—physically, emotionally, and intellectually. 34 artists are represented, including two sets of collaborators: Bill Culbert and Ralph Hotere, and Hannah and Aaron Beehre. Culbert and Hotere represent two-thirds of the senior practitioners, all born before 1935; the other is Milan Mrkusich. Their work provides a direct link to high modernism; planes of colour playing off against each other in the case of Mrkusich; black, door-shaped oblongs pierced by fluorescent lighting tubes in the Culbert/Hotere installation. Next there is a crossover group of seven artists, all born before 1957. Of these, Gretchen Albrecht’s two large oval
Michael Parekowhai, Piko Nei Te Matenga
abstractions from Julia Morison, a wall painting by John Reynolds, and a suite of photographs by Laurence Aberhart. But the bulk of the show comes with the third group, the 23 artists born after 1960. It is here that the full range of media comes into play: two large stuffed toy animals from the Beehres, Brett Graham’s carved school desk, 15 signed rugby balls that represent Kirsty Gregg’s first 15 of New Zealand artists, Sean Kerr’s huge, grid-like stack of used stereo speakers exuding a wall of sound, and Anton Parsons’s air curtain. Putting these exhibits side by side throws up some wonderful juxtapositions. At the end of one room, framed by an arch of painted shopping bags, is Chilcott’s giant swan, Cult Effigy 1952, modelled on a float seen in a street parade. It is covered by hundreds of white crepe swirls, folded into shape by residents of an old people’s home. Looking back up the room, two sets of photographs face each other. On one side, Michael Parekowhai has created and photographed gorgeous bouquets of flowers (he started his working life apprenticed to a florist) as tributes to Maori soldiers killed in World War I; the iceberg roses and white poppies of Passchendaele, in particular, echo the flower-like feathers of Chilcott’s swan. Across from this series are three found photographs of female models—Fifi, Gigi, and Mimi—that Fiona Pardington
THE LANCET • Vol 357 • June 23, 2001
For personal use only. Reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.
DISSECTING ROOM
has reproduced as oversized c-type prints. Again making reference to the first half of the 20th century, they are used by Pardington to explore questions of sexuality and to restate the relationship between photographer and subject. Alongside these works are, on one side, Gregg’s lighthearted salutation to her fellow artists, represented by the rugby balls mounted, trophy-like, on the wall, while opposite are acrylic and pencil drawings on paper by Michael Harrison that explore his interest in the way animals have colonised New Zealand. The final exhibit in the room is Killeen’s Soap—a collection of images drawn from popular culture and painted on to pieces of powder-coated aluminium. Suddenly, the whole room is in a noisy dialogue about how to read and recover those familiar images from the past; the conversation is stylish, ironic, and confidently intelligent. Such juxtapositions follow from space to space, too. There is, for example, a continuing discussion about the use of materials. For Culbert and Hotere, fluorescent lighting is incorporated into their modernist idiom of light and dark, black and white, geometric shapes. Jim Speers, though, imbues his light boxes with all the emotional
drama involved in walking along the street on a wintry evening, drawn by the comfort of shop signs in the distance. Terry Urbahn uses light in his multimedia work Commercial in Confidence, to reinforce the sense of paranoia he invokes in his video of surveillance footage. There are reminders, too, of the different places these artists work in. Culbert has lived for many years in London, UK, but returns regularly to the south of the South Island, where he was born, to work in collaboration with Hotere. Their commitment to this long-term partnership has produced some stunning works. Laurence Aberhart was recently invited by the Macau Museum of Art to spend a month working on the island. The result is a series of photographic images of architectural details that he displays beside photographs taken in the South Island. Julia Morison worked in France where she pursued an interest in the mysteries of the Jewish Kabbala. Now she is back with a luscious painting that seems to suggest a re-exploration of earlier themes. Other artists have their roots in the Pacific; Ani O’Neill’s are in the sewing arts of Rarotonga, John Pule’s in hiapo, the barkcloth paintings of Niue. Some of the artists, such as
Parekowhai, Graham, and Natalie Robertson, are interested in recovering and re-empowering the images of their colonised Maori culture. By contrast, Tony de Lautour reflects on the invasion and omnipresence of global culture by representing internationally familiar logos topographically. Human encroachment on the land itself is the subject of Yuk King Tan’s work; she is represented here with an installation of moving and still images from her Land series. It is stunning. There are many ways to enjoy this exhibition. Are there, for example, regional differences in New Zealand’s art practice? Christchurch, where Bill Hammond’s influence on younger artists, such as de Lautour and Séraphine Pick, is apparent, provides one such locus. Both these artists, though, have now established their own confident styles. Pick’s depiction of the world of female imagination and desire is engrossing, and very beautiful. For me, the whole experience was an affirmation of the breadth and depth of New Zealand’s creative juices. This is a very smart show, frequently droll, and always stimulating. Simon Garrett e-mail: [email protected]
Close up
Daily Herald Archive/NMPFT/Science&Society
Rights were not granted to include this image in electronic media. Please refer to the printed journal.
The fascination of old photographs is that they speak to us of disappearing cultures. Sometimes nostalgia can be tainted with sadness, a yearning for a more innocent era. This picture, Fighting the Foot and Mouth Outbreak, shows farmer Rodger Bennett watching his son Simon dip his shoes in disinfectant; it was taken during an early outbreak of foot and mouth in May, 1952. It is a classic “set up” press picture of its time, direct and uncomplicated. The photographer would probably have used a Speed Graphic, a heavy, large format camera, which required him to get his shot in one or two frames. Today’s streetwise kids would scarcely be fazed by a newspaper photographer, but Simon, a farm boy of the 1950s, seems rather overawed. The magic of looking at such images is that they leave space for our imagination and we can make up our own narrative. Colin Jacobson
THE LANCET • Vol 357 • June 23, 2001
e-mail: [email protected]
2063
For personal use only. Reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.
The Refractory Action, apathy, silence, openness
This problem exposes the immediate ethical dilemmas that surround what action should be taken—not just by those in office, but by all those who work or study at the university or who contribute indirectly from the taxes they pay. It provides an example of the need to appreciate that often there are actually no onlookers and of the importance of being able to publicly voice arguments on such issues. Those readers of the BMJ who were moved to register their views provided fascinating perceptions both of the problem and possible solutions to it and calibrated the current temperature of ethical stances. Voters were nearly equally divided in opinion about the resignation issue. But the ayes had it and resignation followed with promise of retraction if the money were returned. Whistle-blowers and those who expose problems draw flack. Is it better to fight from within or without?
“And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their current turn awry. And lose the name of action.” Shakespeare, Hamlet, III.i.56
an neutrality ever be justified? One definition of neutral is: “a position of gear in which no power is transmitted”. Who might sound the horn or speak to the driver when the engine is idle? How often is neutrality a cover to mask an unwillingness to acknowledge areas of inter-dependence? The lowly Swiss bank employee who exposed the shredding of evidence of wartime deposits of ill-gotten money paid dearly with his job; a courageous example of taking action at great personal cost in order to be able to live with conscience. Apathy affects election results. The proportion of those voting provides a measure of the value citizens place on democracy: the proportion exercising responsibility before justifiably
C
claiming rights. Is silence an option when the management of a country is at stake, when politics are global? This measured malaise of apathy is sadly echoed in institutions and organisations more generally. Silence, ignorance, and apathy allow officeholders to forge ahead with commendable plans that are dependent on less commendable means. A straw poll in the BMJ in May drew 1075 voters from a readership of 120 000 (0·009%) on a universityfunding issue that has immense ethical, commercial, and global health implications. Papers for and against examined the question of whether a UK university should give back its tobacco money. The second voting question asked whether the journal’s editor should resign as professor of medical journalism at that university.
Refractor e-mail: [email protected]
New millennium: art downunder Prospect 2001: New Art New Zealand An exhibition at City Gallery, Wellington, New Zealand, showing until July 1, 2001. See www.newartnz.org.nz.
2062
canvases, memorials to her dead father, provide a bridge between abstraction and representation. Included in this group is a characteristic multiple cutout from Richard Killeen, two hauntingly beautiful canvases by Bill Hammond, Gavin Chilcott’s sculpture of a giant swan, three large heads by Richard McWhannell, geometric
Michael Parekowhai/Gow Langsford Gallery
P
r o s p ect 2001: New Art New Zealand represents an exciting initiative by Wellington’s City Gallery. Curated by Lara Strongman, it is the first of a planned series of biennial surveys of the most innovative artwork produced over, in this case, the past 3 years. Nothing like this has been attempted anywhere in New Zealand for many years, and the first iteration of the concept fittingly provides an exhilarating assault on all the senses. It fills the entire gallery—physically, emotionally, and intellectually. 34 artists are represented, including two sets of collaborators: Bill Culbert and Ralph Hotere, and Hannah and Aaron Beehre. Culbert and Hotere represent two-thirds of the senior practitioners, all born before 1935; the other is Milan Mrkusich. Their work provides a direct link to high modernism; planes of colour playing off against each other in the case of Mrkusich; black, door-shaped oblongs pierced by fluorescent lighting tubes in the Culbert/Hotere installation. Next there is a crossover group of seven artists, all born before 1957. Of these, Gretchen Albrecht’s two large oval
Michael Parekowhai, Piko Nei Te Matenga
abstractions from Julia Morison, a wall painting by John Reynolds, and a suite of photographs by Laurence Aberhart. But the bulk of the show comes with the third group, the 23 artists born after 1960. It is here that the full range of media comes into play: two large stuffed toy animals from the Beehres, Brett Graham’s carved school desk, 15 signed rugby balls that represent Kirsty Gregg’s first 15 of New Zealand artists, Sean Kerr’s huge, grid-like stack of used stereo speakers exuding a wall of sound, and Anton Parsons’s air curtain. Putting these exhibits side by side throws up some wonderful juxtapositions. At the end of one room, framed by an arch of painted shopping bags, is Chilcott’s giant swan, Cult Effigy 1952, modelled on a float seen in a street parade. It is covered by hundreds of white crepe swirls, folded into shape by residents of an old people’s home. Looking back up the room, two sets of photographs face each other. On one side, Michael Parekowhai has created and photographed gorgeous bouquets of flowers (he started his working life apprenticed to a florist) as tributes to Maori soldiers killed in World War I; the iceberg roses and white poppies of Passchendaele, in particular, echo the flower-like feathers of Chilcott’s swan. Across from this series are three found photographs of female models—Fifi, Gigi, and Mimi—that Fiona Pardington
THE LANCET • Vol 357 • June 23, 2001
For personal use only. Reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.
DISSECTING ROOM
has reproduced as oversized c-type prints. Again making reference to the first half of the 20th century, they are used by Pardington to explore questions of sexuality and to restate the relationship between photographer and subject. Alongside these works are, on one side, Gregg’s lighthearted salutation to her fellow artists, represented by the rugby balls mounted, trophy-like, on the wall, while opposite are acrylic and pencil drawings on paper by Michael Harrison that explore his interest in the way animals have colonised New Zealand. The final exhibit in the room is Killeen’s Soap—a collection of images drawn from popular culture and painted on to pieces of powder-coated aluminium. Suddenly, the whole room is in a noisy dialogue about how to read and recover those familiar images from the past; the conversation is stylish, ironic, and confidently intelligent. Such juxtapositions follow from space to space, too. There is, for example, a continuing discussion about the use of materials. For Culbert and Hotere, fluorescent lighting is incorporated into their modernist idiom of light and dark, black and white, geometric shapes. Jim Speers, though, imbues his light boxes with all the emotional
drama involved in walking along the street on a wintry evening, drawn by the comfort of shop signs in the distance. Terry Urbahn uses light in his multimedia work Commercial in Confidence, to reinforce the sense of paranoia he invokes in his video of surveillance footage. There are reminders, too, of the different places these artists work in. Culbert has lived for many years in London, UK, but returns regularly to the south of the South Island, where he was born, to work in collaboration with Hotere. Their commitment to this long-term partnership has produced some stunning works. Laurence Aberhart was recently invited by the Macau Museum of Art to spend a month working on the island. The result is a series of photographic images of architectural details that he displays beside photographs taken in the South Island. Julia Morison worked in France where she pursued an interest in the mysteries of the Jewish Kabbala. Now she is back with a luscious painting that seems to suggest a re-exploration of earlier themes. Other artists have their roots in the Pacific; Ani O’Neill’s are in the sewing arts of Rarotonga, John Pule’s in hiapo, the barkcloth paintings of Niue. Some of the artists, such as
Parekowhai, Graham, and Natalie Robertson, are interested in recovering and re-empowering the images of their colonised Maori culture. By contrast, Tony de Lautour reflects on the invasion and omnipresence of global culture by representing internationally familiar logos topographically. Human encroachment on the land itself is the subject of Yuk King Tan’s work; she is represented here with an installation of moving and still images from her Land series. It is stunning. There are many ways to enjoy this exhibition. Are there, for example, regional differences in New Zealand’s art practice? Christchurch, where Bill Hammond’s influence on younger artists, such as de Lautour and Séraphine Pick, is apparent, provides one such locus. Both these artists, though, have now established their own confident styles. Pick’s depiction of the world of female imagination and desire is engrossing, and very beautiful. For me, the whole experience was an affirmation of the breadth and depth of New Zealand’s creative juices. This is a very smart show, frequently droll, and always stimulating. Simon Garrett e-mail: [email protected]
Close up
Daily Herald Archive/NMPFT/Science&Society
Rights were not granted to include this image in electronic media. Please refer to the printed journal.
The fascination of old photographs is that they speak to us of disappearing cultures. Sometimes nostalgia can be tainted with sadness, a yearning for a more innocent era. This picture, Fighting the Foot and Mouth Outbreak, shows farmer Rodger Bennett watching his son Simon dip his shoes in disinfectant; it was taken during an early outbreak of foot and mouth in May, 1952. It is a classic “set up” press picture of its time, direct and uncomplicated. The photographer would probably have used a Speed Graphic, a heavy, large format camera, which required him to get his shot in one or two frames. Today’s streetwise kids would scarcely be fazed by a newspaper photographer, but Simon, a farm boy of the 1950s, seems rather overawed. The magic of looking at such images is that they leave space for our imagination and we can make up our own narrative. Colin Jacobson
THE LANCET • Vol 357 • June 23, 2001
e-mail: [email protected]
2063
For personal use only. Reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.