ON THE PERNICIOUS IMPACTS OF TECHNOLOGY

If there is anything that can highlight the latent indulgence with, and the general concerns about technology and its impact on our lives, it is the digital eyewear made by the Toronto company North: see https://www.bynorth.com/ and https://www.bynorth.com/focals That one might be wearing glasses to see the world more clearly, or just as an enthusiastic geek, and have technology pop a message up before the eyes to say that it is ‘NOW Sunny,’ or that ‘You have arrived!’ is a gross absurdity. The circumstance exaggerates the schism between technology, the message, and the actual experience, one's awareness, and its depth and relevance,  possibilities and purpose. Here technology takes over as a distraction from the blatantly obvious, as if it might be significantly meaningful, even useful.

'NOW Sunny'

The situation is like the tourist viewing the world through a camera while being there, ignoring the place and its presence as the pictorial pieces are framed. This isolation from ordinary reality highlights how technology takes over the everyday, dominates and distracts; disturbs its richness and resonance. The qualities of a brilliant, sunny day – think of the ‘yellow cotton dress’ in Jimmy Webb’s Macarthur Park - become a set of letters to be projected onto the retina and perceived as a floating message in front of the face, when it is beautifully sunny, with sunlight beaming onto the body and into the eye as it illuminates and warms the world. The state of the weather is an observation, an experience instantly made by the senses, and seen by the same eyes as those needed to read the message, now being redirected to look elsewhere at the ‘facts.’ There is a perversion here; a disturbing irrelevance in the demands technology seeks to make on us; and we seem to think it is important, something futuristic, of value; desirable. Paul Auster reminded us that even the facts don't tell the truth.

One has to ask how this void, this forced gap in experience, translates into architecture, into design and documentation, processes that are seeing the involvement of ever more 'new' technologies. The primary concern is with the design process, where the feeling body and sensing mind search and evaluate, test, seek out appropriate responses as they question and ponder. How might this be changed with digital distractions? In the documentation stage, technology is somewhat more helpful, less of an impediment, perhaps: but design never stops at the ‘first stage.’ The feeling body, the sensing hand, the seeing eye - the interaction of body, hand, eye all feeling, sensing as one - initiate the beginning of discovery on the proverbial blank page, now a blank screen maybe, and continues on throughout a project, with ‘the design process’ extending into documentation where more rigour is applied in a different manner. Here technology is able to provide and maintain the working facts that can constantly challenge the outcome and be useful in this role with its nagging, rational precision: still, scribbling has not lost its meaning.

If technology can disrupt the ordinary reading of, the experience and understanding of a sunny day, then there are serious ramifications for architecture that embodies life and its complexities. The rational perception of the reasoning, analytical mind is not the only process used by a designer. How might whimsy and dreaming be altered by technological approaches? Technology is attractive, and has distinctive, catchy names - Grasshopper, e.g. It also carries a sense of status, c.f. Apple, that becomes a significant matter in brazen, intellectual fashion. The Guardian’s First Dog on the Moon, in a strange piece on weather apps, see: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/nov/06/im-on-the-hunt-for-a-new-weather-app-and-i-have-a-few-fancy-requirements, seriously likened everyone without an Apple product as ‘using the smartphone equivalent of living in a hole in the road,’ even though the best app, the BOM weather site, could not be played on an Apple device. This pernicious, arrogantly stupid aspect of technology, the elitist sales hype, and the associated social pressures that grow from this smugness, are layered on top of the demanding experiential impact of the gadgets, blinding one to the poetry of a summer’s day, making matters worse, more complex and complicated in a muddling manner.

My private world view.

"You can't see what I see! No, I'm not looking at you."

One might comment: “So what?” The concern exists only insofar as we fail to recognise these pressures and distortions. We must remain vigilant with technology as we embrace it. We need to ask more questions about technology and its impacts, for it is so easy to be misled by its illusory wonder that can deface experience, destroy the mystery and beauty of the entwinement of nature and being. The real question probably is: “Do we actually need this technology?” The mad rush into the unknown future that we assume can only always be good, needs to be doubted.

These are not questions to be answered by Alexa, Siri, or Google. This is a situation that we need to assess more intimately, more personally, perhaps as we stroll down the street, pondering contentment and ordinary reality, simple being, without being told that one has 'arrived!' - or maybe just in a quiet corner. If you find the Buddha on the way, kill him, comes to mind. The Buddhists explain the inclusive sensing of our world as knowing; as, for example, ‘knowing that one is walking when one is walking.’ We have to come to technology with the same awareness: knowing that one is using technology, how and why. Only then can appropriate action be taken, to get a better feel for how and where one is going in a world that is always much more than ‘NOW Sunny,' richer. If we do not know that we are being distracted, or from what - even our own arrival - we will find ourselves working from a vague base, a clumsy confusion that can only lead to nowhere in particular, to an indeterminate no-man's-land, the proverbial dog's breakfast, no matter how we might view our technology and interpret our efforts. We must remain alert and aware, no matter how blindingly seductive and persuasively persistent the digital world might be.

'Looking at' takes on a new meaning.

THE LYRICS

MacArthur Park

Spring was never waiting for us, dear
It ran one step ahead
As we followed in the dance

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again
Oh, no

I recall the yellow cotton dress
Foaming like a wave
On the ground beneath your knees
The birds, like tender babies in your hands
And the old men playing Chinese checkers by the trees

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again
Oh, no

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left my cake out in the rain
And I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it

And I'll never have that recipe again

Oh, No, Oh

Jimmy Webb

IN THE NAME OF WATER – THEMED EXHIBITIONS & MEANING

Now its Water - The Guardian report, (see below), extolled the virtues of the NEW exhibition at GOMA called Water. The article spoke about various art works that were to be gathered under the themed title. One image caught the eye; it appeared familiar: but here it was called Cai Guo-Qiang's Heritage. One did not recall this title, but the work was unforgettable. It had been a free extra when one entered the California exhibition at the Queensland Art Gallery: California Design 1930 - 1965 (2 Nov 2013 – 9 Feb 2014). This complimentary exhibition was later reviewed as a part of the design exhibition experience – see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/02/reflections-and-shadows-california-here.html #

One could recall the unease of the GOMA show; the poor quality of the taxidermy; the awkward pretense of meaning in the eerily white space filled with untouchable blue water, enhanced by an insignificant, enigmatic drip, as if to prove its state as a liquid, with the added frustration of the security guards policing the spread of the sand, and correcting any misalignment or disturbance of the grains with brooms. It was not a satisfactory indulgence, causing one to comment on the free extra category: such a categorization appeared appropriate. Was the gallery struggling to get numbers in for this show?

The review written some time ago was perused, just to check on the details; it was dated 2/11/2014: over five years ago. The title that was given at this time was Falling Back to Earth. Now it was Heritage? The artist and the work under this title was Googled: indeed, the work was Heritage and it had been purchased by GOMA: Gosh! - see: https://blog.qagoma.qld.gov.au/cai-guo-qiang-heritage-99-replicas-of-animals/

One recalled that in association with this work, there was a flight of wolves that reminded one of Santa's reindeer rising into the sky, that Christmas fantasy usually seen with stars, snow and a sleigh. One wondered: was this the work that was titled Falling Back to Earth? Had one been confused? This wolf-art was checked: it is called Head On: see - https://publicdelivery.org/cai-guo-qiang-head-on/ This title was just as much a puzzle as Heritage. The text seemed to suggest that the 2013/2014 show was titled Falling Back to Earth, (23 November 2013 – 11 May 2014), and included Heritage and Head On. #

Well, at least that was cleared up: but now Water? How many names can a work be displayed under? Heritage has an obvious link to water, but its title belies any essential link. Are names just getting too clever; too much a marketing proposition? Why on earth show the stuffed animals again, other than for the reason that one actually owns them? The work must be a nuisance to keep in storage. Why was it ever purchased? It is not a good example of the art of taxidermy, and is a challenge to see it as ‘art.’ It is an unusually awkward work too. The display needs a large space filled with a pond surrounded by sand. It is not something one can pull out from the store and display with a day's notice.

GOMA’s ‘TURNS 10’ site was opened. Cai Guo-Qiang's words tried to explain: My work is like a dialogue between unseen powers, like alchemy: see - https://blog.qagoma.qld.gov.au/2013-goma-turns-10-countdown/ Mmmm. How does this explanation fit the interpretation of poorly stuffed animals placed on sand around a pond in an art gallery? Is art really only about esoteric words, ideas and unusual juxtapositions – shock and awe? When one sees poor workmanship in the making of the animals before one’s eyes, it is difficult to extend any dialogue beyond a harsh critique, a private concern, let alone get involved in the mysteries of any alchemy. Do artists try to create meaning in their words in an effort to instill, to include something in the experience that is otherwise not there? This schism between verbal intent and actual outcomes is seen in SWELL, the Currumbin Sculpture Festival – see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2018/09/swell-sculpture-festival-2018-artful.html; https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2017/09/swell-sculpture-festival-2017-again-and.html; and https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2016/09/swell-sculpture-festival-2016-more-of.html . . . The gap is sometimes so extreme, it generates a mocking humour that sadly, can lead to the situation being described as ‘laughable.’

It is difficult to know how the art world is going to manage these aberrations when it relies on so much fantastic hype. With meaning being claimed for just about anything, one is left in an ambiguous world of factual and moral uncertainty that is incapable of being challenged: see sidebar MORE IS LESS.

#

GOMA’s text tells of the first exhibition:

With GOMA turning 10 in just a couple of weeks, we look back at one of the most dramatic exhibitions held at GOMA. ‘Cai Guo-Qiang: Falling Back to Earth’ (23 November 2013 – 11 May 2014) showcased major new works by a global artist whose large-scale installations and explosion events have made him one of the most innovative figures in contemporary art. This exhibition was the artist’s first solo exhibition in Australia and a GOMA exclusive.

‘Falling Back to Earth’ both spectacular and meditative, presented a beautiful, thought-provoking vision of our relationship with the earth and with each other. Four installations featured two new commissions directly inspired by the landscapes of southeast Queensland, which the artist visited in 2011.

THE REPORT

Water at Goma is not just an art show – it’s a profound space to process climate anxiety

Queensland’s major summer exhibition is dedicated to the finite resource and it couldn’t have come at a more pressing, bushfire-ridden time

Cai Guo-Qiang’s installation Heritage: ‘A much-needed moment to connect with an otherwise paralysing range of emotions.’

Photograph: Natasha Harth

 Flying into Brisbane for the opening of Water, the major summer exhibition at the Gallery of Modern Art (Goma), means flying into what one airline pilot describes to passengers as “significant fire activity”.

“There will be an odour of that in the cabin,” was the warning. “It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

But of course it is. And for many of us it’s becoming increasingly difficult to process the panic that the climate emergency induces.

Water is dedicated to this natural element, and it provides a much-needed moment to connect with an otherwise paralysing range of emotions.

Several physical spaces exist for doing just that, including William Forsythe’s The Fact of Matter: a cloud of suspended rings that audience members are invited to traverse. One holds on to a set of rings and reaches for surrounding rings in order to move ahead – a bit like a 3D game of Twister where your opponent is your own weight and coordination (or lack thereof).

‘How will we learn to adapt to our changing environment, and move in new ways?’:

Wlliam Forsythe’s The Fact of Matter. Photograph: Liza Voll

The installation, which was conceived in 2009, reflects how Forsythe, a choreographer, views dance – as a conversation with gravity. In the context of Water, however, it has added meaning. How will we navigate rising tides, learn to adapt to our changing environment, and move in new ways?

Meanwhile, in a separate room, you can stand among the life-size animals of Cai Guo-Qiang’s sculptural installation Heritage. Each animal has its tongue curled, poised to lap at a pool into which a single drop of water plops at intervals of several seconds. Inspired by a visit to Minjerribah (North Stradbroke island), Heritage is unsettling, simultaneously presenting an improbable assembly of animals in a paradisaical landscape, and what appears to be the last source of water on Earth.

You can stand among the life-size animals of Cai Guo-Qiang’s installation at what appears to be the last source of water on Earth. 

Photograph: Mark Sherwood

Perhaps the most dramatic of all is Riverbed, a literal riverbed made of 100 tonnes of sand, small river pebbles and large hand-selected basalt rocks through which a trickle of water runs like a vein.

It is one of the most ambitious works by Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson, but unlike the original version for which Icelandic rocks were shipped to Copenhagen, Goma has used local materials, not only for logistical convenience, but to minimise the environmental impact of the work’s installation.

Like Heritage, Riverbed can feel a little creepy. Its overhead lighting casts no shadows. And the rocks crunch as one moves through the landscape, causing the work to sound as it looks: ominous.

Olafur Eliasson’s Riverbed ‘can feel a little creepy’. Photograph: QAGOMA Imaging Natasha Harth

But the opportunities to reflect on the power and complexity of water exist not only in the exhibition’s works of grand scale, but in the more modest pieces too. The exhibition is held across several rooms and represents work of diverse materiality from more than 40 artists, including: a new painting from Judy Watson; Megan Cope’s installation of 12,000 cast-concrete shells, RE FORMATION; Yayoi Kusama’s painting Infinity Nets, from her long-running series of the same name.

Bonita Ely’s photos of the Murray-Darling Basin, Australia’s largest water system, depict the river at two junctures: in 1977, and from 2007 to 2009. Ely, who has been observing and documenting the river’s decline for more than four decades, uses unpolished, crime-scene-like images to show the progress of pollution which led to the well-publicised mass fish death in January – which is set to recur through this summer.

Among the most transfixing and revelatory works at Water is a series of timber branches on which crystals have formed. Entitled ngayirr (sacred), these sculptures are the result of sacred acts by Wiradjuri artist Nicole Foreshew, who has buried the branches at specific sites on her country, Ngurambang, and added water to the earth. In this way, Foreshew, with her knowledge of country and the workings of the land, has accelerated naturally occurring processes, which even with her assistance can take years. The sculptures are not only physical objects. In traditional practices, they are used to relieve and revive the body.

There is so much to explore at Water, and it takes time. Each work tells a profound story and with considerable physical space between the works, one has the chance to let meaning unfold.

The exhibition is not didactic in this sense, thrusting messages upon you. Instead it is a space for exploring both what exists around us and what we contain. As Eliasson says of Riverbed: “It’s up to you to see if you carry a narrative within yourself. I would argue that we have presented half of the narrative and you bring the other half. Is this the beginning of something new? Is this about trusting the future to guide our present? Or is it the end of something, the past having ruled out our future existence?”

‘Make no mistake – it’s also fun’: Vera Möller’s Vestibulia. Photograph: Natasha Harth

Make no mistake – it’s also fun. Whether you struggle to traverse Forsythe’s rings and settle for cheering on other more competent participants (children tend to steal the show), or gaze in amazement at the Mata Aho Collective’s gigantic waterfall-like tarpaulin, sewn together from 60 tarpaulins, or study the crooked smile of Peter Fischli and David Weiss’s refrigerated Snowman, Water offers joy.

But it’s got something else too. When Goma asked its Instagram followers how they responded to Heritage, one person replied: “I cried.” And with the city cloaked in haze from surrounding bushfires, the need to grieve is real.

• Water is open at Goma, Brisbane, until 26 April 2020.

SWELL SCULPTURE FESTIVAL 2019 CATALOGUE

The 2019 catalogue of the Swell Sculpture Festival held at Currumbin Beach, Queensland, Australia has been published here to illustrate the scope of the work, as has been done for previous years. Unfortunately, the festival took place this year during our absence, 13-22 September 2019, so a review and commentary of this event will not be made. The texts from previous years seem to have said most of what needs to be highlighted: e.g. see - http://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2018/09/swell-sculpture-festival-2018-artful.html  The core critique is that there is very little change each year in spite of the issues that have been raised. A glimpse of the catalogue suggests not much has altered for this year's festival. The format of the catalogue is the same; the central map remains just as schematic as usual;.and the words suffer from the same 'creative' exuberance that we have seen before. A detailed analysis of the artists has not been made for 2019, but some names and techniques are familiar.

The catalogue illustrates all sculptures at the time of publication, a concern that means the image might have no relationship, or just a flimsy one, to the actual work exhibited. There are again texts commenting on or explaining the works by the artists that continue to beguile, baffle and bewilder, much like the 'artistic' pricing. The catalogue provides an overview of the broad scope of this outdoor exhibition as compactly and completely as possible: it outlines information for those who missed it, and provides material for reflection for those who were lucky enough to get there.

The festival enlivens Currumbin, but sadly for only ten days in September. This limitation is a further part of the critique that fails to stimulate an alternative approach to things. Might it be just too easy to play safe each year? One could hope for ideas and possibilities to be explored for the festival in the same manner as is expected of the artists themselves, in their work.

There will be no SWELL LIST this year. A feeling for a general commentary will have to be gleaned from the texts and illustrations.

SWELL CATALOGUE 2019

52 red dots for 52 works:

plus Ivan Lovatt's Totem that was first displayed at the Helensvale Library for

Northern Swell?

This work, not part of the 52, was relocated to Currumbin Beach for 13-22 September.

As the red dots have no reference numbering system, it really doesn't matter.

It would be good to have a more articulate plan with an accurate north point.

Note: click on images to enlarge.

THE ARTISTS

72 artists - 52 works plus . . .

it would be good to know more about these portraits that make a nice display.

THE BLURB

Many of the same platitudes are repeated by the dignitaries year after year.

Kate Jones' 'awe-inspiring masterpieces' seems to exaggerate her anticipation.

These texts are all prepared prior to the event and suffer much the same plight as the illustrations themselves - they may bear no relationship to the reality.

OTHER YEARS

Works from other years continue to decorate the catalogue as before.

At least The Crab is identified correctly in the rear advertisement.

One has to look more closely for the cover details - Ivan Lovatt's Totem (p.7).