Anticipation was encased in excitement: the rediscovery of
lost treasures is always good news. It is like the archetypal story of the
pirate’s hoard, but this cache has been found; and gold was involved too. There
was no map, just altruistic good intentions that secretly placed the precious
priceless items securely in a vault for twenty-five years. Sadly, the
disappointment came with the first item on display: the grand Corinthian
capital.
AFGHANISTAN HIDDEN TREASURES
FROM THE NATIONAL MUSEUM KABUL
5 September 2013 - 27 January 2014
QUEENSLAND MUSEUM
Placed on a column just over two metres high, this
marvellous piece of boldly carved rock was illuminated from above and below in
a manner that gave its crisp cutting no clarity. The mass was left in a haze of
soft, unusually red-purple light that not only fuzzed the shading that might
have emphasised the depth of the carving, as the lighting of the photograph in
the catalogue did, but also concealed the actual colour of the stone. It was
frustrating trying to peer through this bleary presence in order to see the
strength and certainty of the capital that would have stood proud and assured,
honest, in the blaze of clear Afghan light.
Yet again, the technical problems of properly lighting
exhibits seem to have been ignored in favour of what looks like expediency.
Rather than being driven by any commitment to an object and its identity, it
looks as though near enough has been considered good enough: see - http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2014/01/a-mere-shadow-of-quilt.html
and http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2011/07/on-exhibitionism-art-of-display.html Why is this problem allowed to go ignored?
There was a sense of futility in the air. This is Queensland, home to one of
the harshest of all penal colonies in Australia. Does some sense of this past
place, its arrogant brutality, linger with us today? – see: http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/04/conviction.html
Antefix
The other architectural pieces were impressive too. The stone waterspout was a real gem! Alas, frequently these pieces were displayed for their decorative identity rather than for information. The collection of stylised palm antefixes was beautiful, but how did they get fixed to the edge of the roof? One had to crank one’s neck and stand on tiptoes to try to see the backs of these pieces to see how they were mounted - by fixings through the terracotta shafts at their bases. The sundials were stunning, but why was it not explained that the ‘seat’ dial was a reconstruction? The catalogue was quite open about this fact. The gold dazzled the eye and changed the mood. There really is something mystical in this material, its firm and confident presence, its commanding solidity that can be sustained in its most frail of shapings and beatings. It is indeed the symbol of the sun in every aspect. It embodies power and authority. Little wonder that it has mesmerised man throughout the ages.
Alas, it was not the only thing that reflected and glowed.
As one leaned over the glassy display tables or faced the gloss of the
exhibition cabinets, one confronted one’s blurred reflection amongst the mirrored
blaze of high downlights. In order to overcome this dazzling nuisance, one had
to manoeuvre around into a location that would avoid the glare, using one’s own
reflective shading to create a field for comfortable viewing. At times one had
to lean over so far as to feel extremely awkward, choosing a less than
favourable or comfortable viewpoint in order to just observe the pieces as best
as one might in the circumstances. Why, oh why does this have to be so? It is
not as though the science of lighting and display is unknown. Will we ever
learn? Will we ever be bothered? Is it just carelessness? Budgets? It was not
as though it was a ‘cheap’ exhibition to enter: $21.00 per adult. One really
did not mind, just as long as the majority of profits were going back to
Afghanistan. Were they?
Still the gold grabs the attention - delicate, detailed,
firm and flimsy gold; deliciously chunky too: exquisite in every way, complete
with engraving both in gold and coloured stone mounts that left one suspended
in disbelief, such was its superb fineness and finesse. Memories of Macedonia
came to mind, of that exhibition seen perhaps twenty-five years ago. Here gold
was manipulated with such flair that the memories linger to this day: grand
floral golden diadems. But this should be no surprise: the Corinthian column -
there was a Greek connection. Yes, Macedonian craftsmen could have been
involved in this remarkable making of fluttering gold fragments and filaments.
The pieces were so intelligently fine that a magnifying
glass was sought in order to properly see the detailed form and decoration, and
the construction and assembly of each piece. Interestingly, the gallery staff
provided one. Someone must have anticipated the need. Why were magnifying
glasses not a part of the displays for all to enjoy? Some pieces of gold were
so extremely tiny that one would be unable to draw them full-size without the
line thickness messing matters up; and some fine images had been engraved into
stone too! What with? The glass revealed that even when small, faces had
specific expressions and features, and that the gold decoration was never
schematic either. It was precise in every detail. The tiny yellow shapes that
were sewn onto clothing were remarkable. The mystery of how they might be connected
to the fabric was solved once one noticed the miniature rods shaped in gold
melded to the rear of the profiled sheet, pierced for the threads. Just why at
least one of these pieces could not have been turned around to make this more
obvious was a concern. At least the catalogue photographed one reversed to
confirm the partial observation. Was the neatness of the display the primary
matter, its patterned symmetries and alignments? It is a sad day when
presentation becomes more important than the easy comprehension of fact.
Appearances seemed to be more important than information.
Every piece had a formal presentation, a façade, in spite of references in the
explanatory texts that told of decoration and other matters to do with the
‘reverse’ side that could never be seen. Why? It is not a difficult matter to
overcome. There was a description in one text that told of an inscription on
the side of a bowl that could not be seen. Identical bracelets were displayed
identically as a matching twin pair when one item might have been placed
differently so as to allow different parts to be seen in different ways. None
of these possibilities appeared to have been considered in any display, let
alone explored as an idea. When it was so significant that it could not be
ignored, as in the aquarium bowl that had clever weights below that moved
‘fins’ in the water for entertainment, the lower mirror used to reflect this
detail displayed only a dark mass that was just not immediately obvious. Folk
were still bending down low to peer at the leaden baubles described in the
wording, oblivious to the fact that the mirror might have displayed them more
clearly and without less stress had the display been lighted appropriately.
Gosh, it wouldn’t take much to install a small LED light that could be switched
on when required by a push button, so as to fully reveal the cunning workings
of this intriguing bowl. Sadly, even this matter was ignored, with the mirror
being left with a darkly shaded reflection. Was this not noticed?
Clarity didn’t appear to have any importance. There were
blocks of copy mounted on large panels that had notations identified by what
looked like catalogue reference numbers, e.g. K.001.3296. Alas, no matching
coding could be seen on or near the items on display, leaving one at the mercy
of what might be described as common sense to work things out. None of this
uncertainty is needed or should be seen to be acceptable in well-designed
displays. Where is the interest in the items? Where is the creativity? Where is
the enthusiasm for good display? This achievement can be as infectious when
well done as it can be dispiriting when poorly carried out. Surely if an item
is considered important enough to be put on display, it must be significant
enough to have the very best presentation possible so that all of its qualities
can be sensibly and explicitly enhanced? Mirrors; lights; mounts; turning
tables; and the like can all play an important role in displaying the wholeness
and wonder of each object. Of course, one must avoid the problem of the Jewish
Museum in Berlin where the clever gadgetry and smart ideas for the displays
have taken control of the whole experience of both the exhibition and the
extraordinary building.
Yet still the Afghan exhibition remained mesmerising.
Imagine what it could have been? Perhaps it might have been just too
overwhelming without these distracting annoyances that kept one just too aware
of practical matters? It was obvious that these were skilled, sophisticated
folk with a refined and sensitive culture. The exhibition made us look like the
‘huns and heathens’ - the barbarians! The technology and thought, skill and
patience involved in the making of these items was astonishing. Our cliché
reference to the crudity of all other times when compared to ours – identified
as our ‘progress’ - became an obvious falsehood, a blind, boastful and
ignorant, even foolish conceit. We need to recall this more frequently.
Browsing through the explanatory descriptions, one name hit home and identified
the core issue: ‘Nike, God of war.’ All we think of today, especially in this
time of summer tennis, is ‘Nike, God of shoes and sporting clothes’! The
difference in sensitivity and meaning is enormous. What might we know of or
care for any god or symbolism other than its use as a commercial, promotional
farce?
But there was more to consider and praise. The published
catalogue is one of the best seen for any exhibition. It did not merely
reproduce everything in the exhibition in an expensive and heavy book. It
expanded ideas and information with drawings, photographs, stories and studies
to truly ‘add value’ to the whole experience, all at a remarkably reasonable
price too: $14.95. It is a shame that the display could not have been equally
inventive and similarly interested in the subject being considered. Yet there
were some niggles. Why was the drawing of the bone platter different to the
platter itself? Why were small items illustrated as full-page photographs? One
can understand the desire to clearly identify every detail. Indeed, I used a
magnifying glass; but a catalogue should also present the objects as they might
be experienced and maintain their real sense of scale. In the exhibition it was
their smallness that was remarkable. Presenting them as larger images disguises
this simple observation and fashions another false perception about these
stunning pieces - their false grandeur. There was modesty here.
Still, one is left wondering if these ‘blockbusters’ are
really all about dollars. Is the business plan to keep them cheap to maximise
the profits? Some time ago the Sydney Powerhouse published its intentions to
have a major display on the works of Le Corbusier. The ambitious plan was to
reconstruct Corbusier’s cabanon at Cap Martin on the Côte d’Azur and one apartment from the Unité d’Habitation residential tower block at
Marseilles at the Powerhouse for
this exhibition. There was something to look forward to here. Both the cabanon
and the Marseilles apartment are on nearly every architect’s wish list to
visit. They are both icons, architectural legends. Now they were coming to
Australia!
But as the time approached, nothing seemed to be getting
finalised. When visiting the Powerhouse just prior to the planned opening of
this show, I asked about it: why was there no activity? The response was vague.
No one seemed sure or wanted to say anything much about it. So I wrote to the
Director and did eventually get a response. It turned out that the proposal was
just too expensive. The catalogue had been published, but still the exhibition
was cancelled. Apparently the Powerhouse was more interested in paying to have
the entrance space redeveloped, bringing the café up to this location from the
more remote lower courtyard. Would this make it a better money-spinner with all
visitors having to pass by rather than choose to detour to the lower level?
Sadly there has been no more talk of the Corbusier show. Money matters.
Le Corbusier's Unité d’Habitation residential tower block at
Marseilles
And so it also seems to be when looking at the Afghanistan
exhibition. There are many simple things that could have been done to improve
the displays. It only appears to need the raw interest and intrigue; simple
honest, personal care, concern, and commitment, so that all aspects and
qualities of each individual piece can be enhanced to their fullest. Why else
exhibit any work of art? Style has little to do with anything but blurb and
appearances. Exhibitions engage information; they tell about others and other
times and places. They are not curious entertainments for easy pleasures and
distracting interests.
The real surprise is that this exhibition seems to survive
all of its issues and remain memorable, such is the amazing quality of the work
- those lost wonders of Afghanistan that the country realises are so important
for its culture. These precious items come from a time that we need to know
more about. Drooling over sketchy promotional hype and broad summaries and
glosses is only a beginning. The danger with the short-comings of the display
is that these special items will be too easily left in the category of
‘interesting’ artefacts, old things to be assessed superficially with our
clever understandings of beauty rather than with any complete feeling for
place, people, time and culture: their integral expression with their own
singular meaning and context. Placing things prettily rather than displaying
them to reveal the full richness that they can offer us only isolates,
decorates. It limits perceptions and highlights our own self-seeking
importance, yet again.
One has to comment on the marvellously useful digital
graphics in this exhibition: short, concise and accessible like the video clips
that outlined the story of the discovery. One could spend the few minutes
needed for viewing these presentations without feeling any disruption to the
flow of being there, looking, understanding and learning - feeling. Unusually
these presentations enhanced the experience by establishing a specific, more
complete identity for some of the items behind the glass. One found oneself
moving backwards and forwards to assemble the pieces, to get a better
understanding of their milieu.
The structure of the display and the people management were
equally impressive. The spatial division with translucent screens was simple,
but extremely effective, allowing a large, anonymous open space to enclose
smaller zones comfortably, with an easy ambiguity. Each zone presented the
pieces discovered at the same location. The museum never felt crowded until one
exited the Afghan display area and moved into the main public spaces of the
building. Most exhibits were easily accessible without having to crowd around
and wait for a viewing space to become available; some exhibits could be seen
from two positions. Even though it was school holidays, the children were all
well behaved. Maybe they were ‘gob smacked’ by the exhibits? They did not need
smacking or any reprimand for misbehaviour. There were only a few places that
suffered from the ‘corner’ problem – the situation where, when one is viewing
one item, the adjacent display is made inaccessible. It is a shame that the
attention given to some aspects of this exhibition did not flow through to all,
for these works deserved it.
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