REFLECTIONS AND SHADOWS: CALIFORNIA, HERE WE COME!

Once again there were the reflections and shadows. Maybe the idea was to give the space the bright and sunny feel of California because this was the subject of the exhibition at the Queensland Art Gallery: California Design 1930 – 1965. Alas, it seemed not to be so, as these nuisances had been experienced before in different exhibitions on other occasions that had no reference to sunnier climes. The problem seemed to lie in the poor quality of displays at the Queensland Art Gallery and Museum. It seemed that the previous predicaments with budget presentations using standard galleries and existing lighting without any effort to specifically enhance the quality of the areas or the exhibits, has occurred yet again.

It might sound like a repetitive whine that is an individual's uniquely quirky perspective -perhaps a perversion of perception, (see  http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2011/07/on-exhibitionism-art-of-display.html ); a personal, idiosyncratic gripe arising from a singular preference that another might dismiss - but this time photographs were allowed: no flash. Indeed, there was nothing flash about this exhibition space other than the glare! The images of the concerns were at last able to be documented. All of the lighting was high and general, pointed to make the best of what was there. Maybe a few more fittings got turned, turned on or turned off, but this bright, non-specific space lighting was being used for a special exhibition, a mini-blockbuster that charged for entry.

The video projection

The spaces were all open, bright and white with a high gray frieze. These areas were no different to any other exhibition space in this cultural complex. Very little had been done to these lights and walls for California. Even the usual large pieces of text pasted onto the walls were missing (c.f. http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/drawn-out.html ). One video was projected high in one location, making one stand awkwardly nowhere in particular to watch it. The irony is that this was an exhibition about quality design, the classics of the thirties, forties, fifties and sixties: the iconic examples of the era. These are works that transformed the world that was struggling to establish itself before, during and after the trauma of the Second World War. Even to this day, with all of the changes in technology and access to information, these works remain stunning examples of design excellence. It was the experience of the works on display that highlighted the problems with the exhibition design. Eyes that were being engaged by the delights of caring, quality work were, at the same time being bombarded by the problems of thoughtless exhibitionism: reflections and shadows, and carefully arranged viewpoints. It was a subtle interference, but it was at its worst.

The issues were familiar and numerous. There were multiple shadows shading texts positioned at ankle level, a location that meant that one had to lean over into the illuminating rays to read the words, hence the shading. There was glare from the light of the large overhead fittings that was caught by the shiny surfaces. There were layered reflections in glass cabinets and glazed frames that added a distracting, dazzling depth and intrigue to things. Even the detailing of the cabinets sparkled with the light catching on exposed glass edges. Exhibits were located for their display appearance, their stylish prettiness and classy arrangements, rather than for information. Again, most of the pieces were shown as one-dimensional objects, concealing parts that could easily have been displayed: see - http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2011/07/on-exhibitionism-art-of-display.html et al  There was a slight movement in one of the hanging fashion items that gave some hope to the idea that it might be revolving, swirling, as though on a catwalk; but sadly, no. It was fixed on nylon suspension lines that were swaying with the air movements. The ‘rear’ appearances remained hidden. All of these issues have been written about before. Why do they get ignored? Why should it be so here, especially when the subject of the exhibition is good design? Why does the design of the exhibition not set the standard for its exhibits, or show some interest in approaching the quality of what it contains?

The works on display were supplemented with video clips, but were these trying to be just too clever? The screens were presented as old television boxes of the era, with a telephone hand piece hung on each side for viewers to use to listen to the sound. It was a quirky approach, perhaps trying to be contextual. One was invited to stand nearby, or in other places to sit down on a low stool and enjoy the display, only to discover that each screen had multiple presentations that would take significant blocks of time to watch and listen to them all. One was expected to linger just too long with these presentations. The ‘flow’ of the exhibition was broken. Why not use QR Codes so that this information could be reverenced in one’s own time at home? This technology needs to become more creatively useful to enrich the whole experience that could extend beyond the gallery space.

One comes to an exhibition not only to be a part of a social occasion, but also with some time scale in mind, and other obligations to consider. It is not as though the video presentations were not relevant or of interest - they were; but why should one waste time in the gallery standing or sitting privately listening alone to a video, for the situation did emphasize one’s isolation? It was a circumstance aggravated by the fact that these personal areas were a part of a large open space, squeezed against a wall. One was fully exposed. But why have two hand pieces creating a relationship between strangers? When two persons unknown to one another become engaged with the videos simultaneously, they discovered themselves linked to a shared screen, looking at the same vision and listening to the same sound, with a similar cord and hand piece. Does no one realize the sensitivities of the social implications of this arrangement? The telephone hand piece that was used as the speaker made it look as though each was talking to the other ‘on the telephone.’ Why, oh why are such matters missed? Are galleries only interested in the clever business side of arty exhibitions?

Design has it own rigours and demands, so why display explanatory words that are difficult to read, and images that are blurred with glare? Charles Eames and his wife would cringe at this poor, this very poor exhibition of such quality design examples, items that established the paradigm for the future, changed it. This exhibition will do little other than generate some income for the QAG at $15.00 per single adult entry. It will be the ‘nice little earner’ given the seemingly limited amount of money spent on setting it up. Anyhow, it looks like it might have to subsidize the current GOMA exhibition - Cai Guo-Qiang’s Falling Back to Earth. A discounted entry of $5.00 was being offered to the GOMA show if one purchased the two tickets together: two for nearly one! Gallery visits have become like shopping at Tesco!

But more of this later. One was introduced to California Design with a couple of iconic items in the foyer: an Airstream Clipper caravan, (the Americans call them ‘trailers’), and a Studebaker of the era had been placed in the public area in front of the ticket counter that held a few scattered Eames’ chairs and tables. A large map of California had been fixed to one of the walls off to one side. The caravan and car gleamed, glowed with reflected light and dazzled with distorted reflections. They astonished, such was their stylish slickness. Here the sparkle was an integral part of these beautiful objects that held the aura of a glossy advertisement in a fifties fashion magazine, such was their wonder. They floated in light. Alas, such delightful glare and haze only became a nuisance distraction for the majority of other displays inside the exhibition. These flashes of brightness added nothing to the general display, even though the subject was sunny California. The exhibits looked ill at ease in the large, white empty voids. They held an awkwardness that was only aggravated by the impromptu reflections and shadows.

What might one say about the exhibition without referring to these phantom nuisances? It was indeed a stimulating display that highlighted memories of these times when first revealed to a young architect. The 'new' startling graphics; the different ways of thinking; the ‘new’ forms; the ‘unusual’ materials; the commitment to an idea and ideal; the zeal; the vision. These were truly inspirational works. It was the Life magazine publication, its photographs and typography that emphasized the limitations of the techniques of printing and manufacturing of the era, an awareness that made the emblematical outcomes even more astonishing. The difference accentuated the modest boldness of the ‘new,’ the continual pushing of all limits. There were ideas here that still thrilled: see - http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2014/02/on-inspiration.html  The concepts continued to enshrine a rigour and hold an intrigue that arose from rational research and factual analysis as well as a ‘new’ understanding of lives, and a love of experimentation. Did California make this possible, its fresh, energizing climate and open, natural, invigorating landscapes?

The work involved a particular skill and interest in matters of design that are rarely seen today. There was a certain communal commitment evident in all aspects of art, sculpture, interior design, industrial design, architecture, graphics and more: a broad allegiance to coherent quality outcomes based on facts and envisaged futures, not style or image alone. As Charles Eames said in his movie, (it was a video of an old movie, one of many that were available to watch if one had time), everything was considered to be inter-related: everything from design, to research, to making, to designing the production, the packaging, the promotion and the sales. All matters were approached with a coherent philosophy in order to tie everything together with the one ideal, the one intent, the one strategy, the one quality. Where do we see this today? Today’s interest seems to be with the big bang of identity and promotion - whatever it takes to be different, irrespective of relevance to anything but profit and reputation, or so it appears.

The exhibition was memorable because of the recollections it stirred. There was some sense of nostalgia lingering here as old feelings were relived with these gentle, stimulating reminders of living ideas and youthful energy. The exhibition held the prototypes for all of the ‘terrible’ kitchenware that pervaded the sixties and seventies - even the eighties: the odd, abstract, ‘scribble’ decoration and the randomly asymmetrical shapes that were so easy for anyone to adapt when it looked as though anything might be possible. The classic, over-familiar, salt and pepper pieces with the matching sugar shaker can still be seen today. They remain in production. Oh gosh, even the furniture was there, the teak rectangular boxes with sloping, tapered legs, sliding doors and neat teak handles, flush and recessed: and the unusually inventive tables, all Mondrian-inspired and decoratively geometric, again setting the example for easy commercial replication and insensitive adaptation.

There were odd screens with ad hoc assemblies of ‘abstract’ wire, mesh and colourful baubles. Anything seemed possible in this nonfigurative game if one was game. Many sought to replicate these images but sadly failed. These works are far subtler than they appear. Experimentation was alive and vibrant, even in, perhaps especially in the ‘new’ graphics of the arty architectural magazines. The exhibition was truly a modern archive. It had the beginnings of many things now ended or distorted, or forgotten, ignored. The ‘new’ Neutra house still surprised as it must have originally, even though it was familiar. There remains something simple, raw but alive in this work. Even the Disney house of the future was there to remind everyone of its rotating, fiberglass crucifix plan - to catch the sun. Like most futuristic predictions, this house was out of date before it is completed. Houses, cars and the like ‘of the future’ that can be fabricated today carry their own inherent contradiction. Perhaps the idea is trying to say more about future public acceptance, possible future mass production and future sales and profits? This place stayed until it was unceremoniously demolished some years later in the future that it tried to predict.

Given that the problem of displays never seems to be acknowledged or addressed, one is left wondering if shadows and reflections are just no longer seen. Is it that everyone's involvement with glossy screens has blinded eyes and closed minds to these plays of light? One used to be able to get matt screens on laptops and computers, but now these, as well as those on tablets and mobile phones, have all become the glossiest of glossy surfaces, reflecting and mirroring everything nearby, leaving us to work with this glary background in everything we do: and we are using these gadgets more and more every hour. Maybe such problems in exhibitions are tolerated because these concerns are no longer ever noticed. Have they really become ‘everyday’? Still, this is no excuse for poor design. The problems need to be addressed everywhere so that the subconscious strain on the observer can be eliminated. Surely this care is owed to the exhibits even if no one cares for the comfort of the visitors’ experience? One is left wondering if this lazy acceptance of nuisances makes us blind to bad design, just too tolerant of any indulgent diversion or distraction that might be promoted as art. It may be so, because the lack of any critique seems to be an inherent part of the response to California too. Questions to colleagues who had seen the exhibition prior to our visit failed to raise answers that included any comment about the poor quality of the display. “It’s OK,” was the most common response: not stunning, but OK.

One must add that the harsh lighting did provide some very beautiful shadows, shapes that were attractive, interesting, stimulating, and explanatory too. One could learn about the piece casting the shade; but the nuisances bothered one more. If the light effects had been more than a mere accident, the work of chance, the whole exhibition would have been enlivened and enriched; totally enhanced.

. . . . . . . . . . .

We decided to move on, to use our discounted entry to GOMA, (Gallery of Modern Art), to see Cai Guo-Qiang’s Falling Back to Earth. We knew nothing of this exhibition. We moved in through the giant glass doors of this ‘look-alike’ building, (see http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/05/pairs-3.html ), with an open mind. This show was promoted as a ‘major solo exhibition, spanning the ground floor galleries of GOMA, (that) presents major, large scale installations by one of the world’s leading contemporary artists.’ The tickets were taken and we moved up a ramp into one of the large gallery voids: it did feel of emptiness. A cluster of stuffed animals was arrayed around a blue pool. Was it water? Were these real? There was a spooky naturalism here that obviously wasn’t there. It would just not be politically correct. The display looked like one of very doubtful taxidermy, a collection of Noah’s animals stuffed: in every sense. The explanatory words only created a frustrated puzzlement. Why do artists try to extract complex meanings out of so little? - see http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2014/01/swell-sculpture-festival-2013.html

The art drip.

A stroll around the animals’ rear ends was met with a surprise: a splash. As the supervisor did not flinch, one supposed that this was not a coin being thrown into the water, even though one was tempted. It might have been fun! A drip of water was discovered to be a part of the ‘art.’ It was even nominated in the words that described the work. One was separated from the animals by what one assumed to be a large, synthetic membrane, (holding water), that was covered with what one eventually learned through observation was sand. Perhaps the enforced distance kept one away from the crude detailing of the animals? Maybe exposing one only to the tail ends made it easier to conceal the poor structuring of the heads that could only be seen opposite, on the far side of the pool? Still, the sand kept the supervisor busy. He was constantly brushing it smooth with a duster, and sweeping it back to the defined line with a broom. Children! This search for sand perfection in a large, pure white void gave the place a sense of the surreal, as did the catalogue of ‘99’ look-alike animals. Apparently ‘99’ was meaningful for the artist. The vision of the drinking animals, all at peace and in harmony, in love, apparently came to the artist at Stradbroke Island. It seems a strange notion to arise from the Australian landscape, ending up as something eccentrically ad hoc, a little like a zoo experience. It seemed a somewhat naïvely structured, artificial vision - strained?

Moving out of the single-drip zone brought one back to another large central gallery space. This taller, narrower void was filled with a tree, a huge tree on its side - a lovely spotted gum. This immediately gave rise to the concern: was it cut down just for the exhibition? How did it get in here? How will it get out? Why? Its torn and ripped roots only highlighted the trauma it had suffered for this ‘art.’ What is the relationship between life and art?

The stroll past the tree took one to the wolves, unannounced. A pack was discovered dramatically leaping like Santa Claus’s reindeers in the classic Christmas cartoon image of the sleigh in the sky. The wolves were arcing through space as if in a back room of a deserted warehouse. There was an equal sense of the surreal in this large gallery too, but a different one. There was a profound vacancy here, a true nothingness, even though it was partially and dramatically filled with pretend animals. Bare corners emphasized the void’s emptiness. Here, instead of gliding confidently into the stars as the reindeers do, these animals crashed into a glass wall that was supposed to mean the Berlin wall, or any wall at all that could be brought into the story of art and its meaning. Any story to try to create some sense of complex ‘deep’ meaning seemed to be useful; but these explanations became, in reality, somewhat farcically forced, a little like the art itself. The display did give one a chance to get very close to the taxidermy. One could stroll around amongst the ‘99’ wolves, (again), all hanging on nylon fishing lines, and peer closely into the crude, epoxy-moulded mouths and crossed, glazed eyes. Apparently all of the animals were sculptures clad in natural fur. Just where the fur had come from remains unknown. Something had died for this art too, even if not the wolves or the other selection of Noah’s beasts.

One left to browse in the gallery shop, not to buy anything, but in order to forget the feeling of befuddlement, while trying to get over the bland disappointment of apparent meaninglessness. It seemed that more effort had been put into this exhibition than the California Design show opposite. Are we too polite to complain? Do we just not care? Do we no longer think or feel? Are we only seeking different entertainments? Tolerance is a virtue, but open debate is also needed as part of this forbearance – along with the willingness to listen and to change attitudes. Maybe the next exhibition might understand the issues and manage them much better. As for the ‘art.’ This is a much more complex matter that does need more discussion too. It does not need more words.

Home again, home again . . . .

THE EVIDENCE

So let us now leave the words and browse the images; look at the evidence, as it were, if such is needed to prove a point. Remember that no camera flash was allowed.

It is interesting to look quickly at some of the gallery details that shape the environment for this exhibition.

The gallery seat,

The 'NO ENTRY' solution.

Gallery graphics.

see also:

http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2014/02/astonishing-afghanistan-lost-treasures.html

http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2014/01/a-mere-shadow-of-quilt.html

ARCHITECTS' STATUTORY AUTHORITY

In Queensland, the Board of Architects of Queensland controls the registration of architects. It prescribes various requirements for registration and for the maintenance of registration if one wishes to be able to call oneself an ‘architect’ in this State. Cross the border and a new body is managing architects in that State. There are a total of eight states in Australia - a couple of these regions are labelled ‘territories’ but they are much the same; and one state will not recognise the other’s assessments or registrations. The principle is, in spite of all of this fragmentation, that an architect has to have statutory authority to announce this professional role in our society. One wonders how the public perceives the fact that States are unable to respect one another’s registrations. Does this leave architects in a general limbo that lacks any respect and trust? The seeds of doubt certainly appear to have been sewn by this strange, parochial situation.

The Commonwealth Government manages matters like Statutory Declarations. This is a process that allows one to make written statements as though under oath. If one makes a false statement in a Statutory Declaration, one could be jailed and or fined, such is the significance and legal standing of these declarations.

In order to make a Statutory Declaration, one has to complete a standard form and have it witnessed by a prescribed person. The list of such persons before whom a Statutory Declaration may be made under the Statutory Declaration Act 1959 is attached to the standard form. It is extensive, and includes professions like: chiropractor; medical practitioner; patent attorney; psychologist; dentist; nurse; pharmacist; trade marks attorney; legal practitioner; optometrist; psychotherapist; veterinary surgeon: and this is only the first part.

THE LIST

The list extends into two other lengthy parts and includes teachers, engineers, accountants, ministers of religion, policemen, secretaries and many, many others who can also act as a witness. One can go through the lines in detail, but an architect is unable to act as a witness, even though an architect has to be registered in order to participate in this profession. One might have thought that this would have made this profession an adequate witness, but apparently no. A ‘credit union officer with 5 or more years of continuous service’ is preferred. Gosh, the training for an architect usually takes at least six years before one can be registered!

Such appears to be the fate of architects and architecture in our society today. Importance lies elsewhere. Perceptions are strange. In the early days when HIV infections were puzzling the world and science had noticed the relationship with the gay community, it was blandly announced that the virus was likely to infect such folk as the gay community, those in medical world, artists and others, a list that, somewhat alarmingly, did include architects.

Does one surmise that the general perception of architecture is that it is ‘irrelevantly and indulgently arty,’ and that those involved in the arts, like architects, are gay, or just ‘loose’: uninhibited? Such folk might be happy, but it is a shame that our society places such involvements in the world of completely unnecessary extravagances carried out by expensive dilettantes and playboys, irresponsible folk, in spite of the regulations that, at least for architects, are apparently there to ensure otherwise. Indeed, the Boards declare that they exist to protect the public from rogue ‘architects.’

There is another common story that reinforces this understanding that architects just waste one’s money. It has to do with architectural fees: the client was overheard stating that the proposed $10,000 architectural fee would be able to pay for the swimming pool, so the builder was hired to undertake the expenditure of hundreds of thousands of dollars without advice or supervision. The message seems to be: architects are an irrelevant luxury, not responsible enough to act as witnesses.

Such is life. It is a shame because there is so much that could be improved very easily if matters were otherwise; but perceptions are very difficult to modify. Preconceptions always seem to exaggerate to extremes when there is the hint of any uncertainty or when the participation involves subtle and technical work that few understand. The work is allocated to the world of mystery - a vague and sensual, potentially dangerous world: like that of witches who, one notes, are, like architects, excluded from the list of those able to witness a Statutory Declaration. It seems that a politician is preferred! One has to declare before a politician that one is not telling lies? This looks like the pot that has been asked to ensure that the kettle is white. Hmmmm.

For more on Boards and architects see:

http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2013/04/what-does-non-practising-architect-do.html

http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/05/who-or-what-is-architect.html

http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/04/normal-0-is-asquality-in-graphics-that.html

http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/05/bear-in-woods.html

ON INSPIRATION

POPPINS INTO MY MIND

The creative process has always been an enigma. Many have tried to explain it.

The author of the Mary Poppins books, P.L. Travers, has become the subject of various reviews given the recent release of the film that records her involvement with Walt Disney, Saving Mr. Banks.

A television programme aired on ABC TV 1 on 2 February 2014 played a recording of Mrs. Travers talking about her work some years ago:

“I think that ideas are floating around the world. They pick on certain people, not the other way around.”

“I sit in a corner and let the feathers settle around me. I get into the mood and it writes itself.”

A friend of Mrs. Travers spoke about the way that she insisted that she was not the author; that she was simply the vessel for Mary Poppins.

It might be a personal perception, but it does suggest that one should do everything possible to be prepared for such occurrences, whatever this might mean. It is worth considering because the world might indeed be like this; and such care and attention would not be an impediment if things were otherwise.

Nonchalance? Humility? Or is this a clever invention of the creative mind itself?

A MERE SHADOW OF A QUILT

When last at the V&A in London we were disappointed to discover that the whole textile section had been closed down, along with other familiar areas of this marvellous museum. The story was that the museum was moving the textile section into a new building and was refurbishing other parts of the complex. Sadly we missed out yet again on seeing the quilting wonders that are held in this legendary place. It seemed that it was not a matter of any shortage of space. What was happening? Indeed, as we moved through the spectacular brick and stone building that had been funded by the great exhibition of 1851, we became aware of many changes. There seemed to be large areas that had been closed to the public. Several spaces appeared to have been put aside for private functions: NO PUBLIC ACCESS BEYOND THIS POINT. Were budgets being threatened? Was this hiring out of spaces just another way to raise money?

In Britain, museum entrance is now free. It was a strategy legislated by the government. The idea was to promote tourism. Perhaps other ploys have had to be invented to collect cash? Museums are not cheap to run. Is this why areas were being closed down? We could no longer see even the Frank Lloyd Wright Kauffmann office that had, somewhat surprisingly but pleasingly for our convenience, been relocated here. Regretfully, the museum seemed to have less on display than it had exhibited on our previous visits. Had staff numbers been cut? And there were more special themed displays than before when the exuberance of the collection spread as though it were in a maze – as if it were an Aladdin’s cave - for all to discover. It truly did amaze. The new organisation and  categorisation by topic and concept was a real disappointment. The V&A’s reputation was better than this, grander and more openly inclusive: classically eclectic and committed to this cheeky openness.

Sadly it was slowly becoming more like any other museum. The audacious Ming vase that once stood intrepidly for all to touch had gone in this restructuring. The most obvious change was the relocation of the V&A shop. It had now been given pride of place in the grand central concourse, directly on the path of everyone who approached from the main entry on Cromwell Road. There was no way to avoid it. This was once a majestic, stone-clad foyer dominated by the frenzied Chihuly glass chandelier. Now it was a crowded market place selling expensive souvenirs and nic nacs. It looked as though finances were driving all of the changes here. The opportunity for impulse buying seemed to offer a chance to boost income that was too good to ignore, just as the need for sustenance has been likewise accommodated with numerous cafes and eating-places filling spaces that were previously exhibition areas. It all looked like a good money-spinner with the displays organised for easy consumption too. The rules were that entry into any ‘blockbuster’ or special exhibition could be charged for. The museum seemed to be as cunning and brutal as any government when it comes to developing concepts for raising money, and for saving it too.

Perhaps the circumstance with the disappearing textiles has had a good outcome: the published brochure announced that a selection of V&A quilts was to be put on display in the Queensland Art Gallery. Maybe the V&A was happy to have these items move around while the new building was being prepared for the permanent display? It appeared that this travelling exhibition might solve two problems: it would create an income for the V&A while removing all the problems and costs associated with temporary relocation and storage. It looked like a shrewd move. We went to see the quilts in Brisbane, again leaving this until the last week; but we did get there. At least we would see something of this amazing V&A collection, but there would be no ancient fabrics to discover in old drawers; no smell of the antique; no ‘lost’ items to surprise; and no pieces of original William Morris textiles to marvel at. It would be just quilts - ‘1700 – 1945’ as the marketing defined the scope in time - and untouchable. There is always something unfriendly about the policing of exhibits where one is constantly watched; when even the slightest gesture that might suggest an intent to touch is monitored and reprimanded, leaving one feel like a naughty school child.

The arrangement was that we would meet friends just before opening time. We drove into the underground car park that boasted a $15.00 all day charge in bright neon. “We are going to the gallery for a couple of hours. How much will that be?” “$15.00” was the bland and unmoved response. We had experienced this inconvenience before, see  http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/drawn-out.html , so one just kept quiet, paid and drove in. It was obviously going to be useless to complain or to highlight the issue here when all that the gatekeeper was interested in was to collect the full payment and let you in, leaving one to get out without his supervision. The gallery seemed keen to make money from office workers at the inconvenience of gallery visitors rather than provide a flexible service for its patrons. It all seemed to be just too much trouble to worry about this inconvenience and expense. Are all museums and art galleries becoming money traps? Gosh, one pays enough to get into these exhibitions in Queensland without having the added impertinence of the exorbitant cost of parking. At least entry into the V&A was free and London public transport makes private transport unnecessary, as much as the London levy makes it undesirable.

Here in Brisbane it all seemed to be a moneymaking enterprise at every turn, like an airport where necessity creates and accommodates the urge to strip dollars off patrons without apology or care, much to the glee of the monopoly enterprises that milk every possible opportunity: gouging. Even cabs leaving the local airport are hit with a levy. The street parking at this time of the day was already congested. There really was no choice. We drove in over the squealing painted floor to a vacant parking area and walked to the gallery. This was no straightforward path. It was a matter of dodging vehicles in this lower level, both parked and moving; getting to the vehicular entry of the car park; crossing the underground road; following one’s nose until there seemed to be the likelihood of an exit stair or lift ahead; discovering the lift; guessing the level; and arriving at the gallery entrance zone. Why do potentially simple paths become quixotic detours? Does anyone care? Does anyone think? There is a clear lack of empathy in design today that seems to concentrate only on style and personal preferences.

We were early. We waited for our friends in the cool of the café shade. The day was already hot. They arrived just as the doors opened. Folk were already gathering for this exhibition, such was its popularity. We paid and entered into a large, high brightly painted yellow space - van Gogh? The quilts were hung on the walls; smaller items were arrayed in glass showcases. The crowds gathered around the texts that sought to explain things. One description per item caused strife when two might have been useful. Why are easy solutions neglected? Why are folk encouraged to stop directly at the entrance to read introductory words on a wall exactly where people movements were most intense? Are museums so blind to the necessity of displays and their demands?

The colours of the display areas varied. Only one space was sunny yellow. The other memorable colour was, sadly, black. The second space had a central black structure that seemed to have patterns in its openings that were being reused from a Chinese exhibition. The configurations of the perforations were not those of quilting. Black is an awkward colour to use in a display area, especially as a centrepiece. It deadens hues with its bland depressing mass. Dark blue has more life and depth. It is rich, mysteriously vibrant like a night sky. The yellow dominated its space, but surprisingly the quilts were of such authority that they survived this challenge. Why yellow? Did the designers really know that old interiors did in fact once have bright walls, or was it a ‘design’ colour - to be different? Bright yellow, pink and sky blue have all been discovered in the paint scrapings taken from the interiors of the grand old homes of the 1700’s in the Shetland Islands.

As one ambled deeper into the exhibition, it didn’t take long for the same old problems to arise yet again. All the lighting was physically high-level, the norm in this flexible ‘special exhibits’ space, but it provided only a low level, non-specific illuminance. The space seemed to be in an unnecessary haze of height and depth, experienced as the frustration of poor quality of illumination when one attempted to study an item in detail. Looking became a real task. The stitches were tiny and numerous. It seemed to be a careless height for light that appeared to be there just because it was. This elevation added naught to the display. There had been nothing done to either use it in any way or to adapt this massive void to establish a sensible scale and place for the cosy quilts that occupied only the lower one third of the walls at best. It looked like the classic cliché “She’ll be right” attitude had been given to this display: “We’ll just have to make do with what we have.”

Light had to traverse this void to achieve its outcome. When one leaned over to read a text, one discovered one was staring at an array of overlapping shadows of one’s own head, some five of six of them overlayed in parts to create their own multiple fragmented shades of nuisance patterning. Moving aside to avoid this irritant only revealed another problem - the full glare of the light above blinding the eyes as a reflection. Why oh why does this occur? It seemed that the display had been the cheapest possible arrangement so as to maximise profit - like the car parking arrangements. There had been little effort made to adapt the spaces for the benefit of the quilts or the visitors. One knows how fabrics, especially old fabrics, are sensitive to light, but why not spend money and install quality low-level lighting that can be at the appropriate location and angle to highlight the other much mentioned matter: the quilting itself, the texturing of the whole assembly with patterned stitches that hold the layers together. Why oh why is this core item ignored too? This detail was flattened by the direct blaze of high light that failed to highlight the contours, making them invisible. Only occasionally was the quilting accentuated, as if by happenstance.

When one could finally read the texts after appropriate physical adjustments, it was frequently noted that the information was simply descriptive, e.g., that the item was made of such and such materials, and was of such and such a size. Sometimes there was a story to identify possible provenance. Often the backing was referred to with an equally detailed description; but these reverse sides were never ever seen. Why oh why? Anyone who knows anything about quilts knows how important the back of the quilt is as well as the front. It helps determine the rigour of the intent, to confirm the commitment to the main design and its making. Alas, there were no backs to be seen, even though they were a talking point in the texts. Why are museums so deaf to the cry for ordinary informative, creative presentations? Is just ‘cheap and easy’ enough? I recalled our last visit - Matisse at GOMA - that looked as though it had used an anonymous space with leftover elements of another display: see - http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/drawn-out.html  Surely this has not happened again? Frustratingly there was one text in a corner that one could never get to read. It suffered from the corner syndrome that those designing displays never seem to understand. Why oh why? Wouldn’t you think . . . ? – see: http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2011/07/on-exhibitionism-art-of-display.html Is it so difficult to display both sides of a quilt, just too difficult to think about the ordinary functioning of information and display - of how people need to see things nonchalantly, without performing or parading to suit the style of the display, or to be seen as ‘arty’ or ‘artful.’?

QR Codes were used in various locations. These interesting diagrams are useful but they never seem to be published to allow one to read and see more at home, in one’s own space and time. Why make people stare at their mobiles in public? Isn’t there enough of this now? A visit to the gallery should be a social event, not an event for the perpetuation of personal indulgences. Why not encourage engagement otherwise when there might be an opportunity to achieve this involvement? There is enough introspection as it is in just about every other place already. Watching folk in the café prior to the gallery opening showed an assortment of individuals singularly engrossed with their small screens, sitting alone, silently, unsocially. Unbelievably, one couple were sitting side by side, each with eyes only for their own little instrument. The world is becoming overly self-interested in things other than the present, let alone what tradition sees as the ‘eternal present.’ One always hears in exhibitions: “I like this; I don’t like that; I would have . . ; it seems . . to me.” Why is it always about ‘me’? QR Codes only encourage this ‘look at me’ indulgence. How can these folk ever learn anything when the exercise seems to be one of personal assessment - how I feel and think? Then I suppose, one is lucky that these folk are even talking about the display. Many gabble on about everything else with conversations that would be better carried out in the café outside. “Did you hear about . . .?” Of course, the fashion for electronic information plug-ins that can be rented to patrons only further encourages this stance, and orchestrates how one has to see the display.

The other distraction in these exhibitions is the tour guides. They always speak loudly, irrespective of anyone else, and have the skill to convert things of beauty into an endless string of domineering facts with just too much certainty, a little like the head phones do in other circumstances. One must move on quickly to avoid not only the noise, but also the ever escalating, self-centred bustle: the avalanche of the group that has its own rude necessities and priorities.

The quilts were stunning. Tiny stitches holding thousands of pieces together to create large decorative surfaces of fabric, while others are wonderfully shaped to create an image or delineate its finer characteristics. The work had an enigmatic quality. Things naïve and crude up very close became subtle and distinctively grand from a distance that was surprisingly small. The display of time and patience, skill and craft was simply mesmerising. Do we live with just too much haste today? The exhibition did allow folk to pause. Various bentwood chairs had been artfully placed for folk to sit; but it looked as though more thought had been given to appearance than to personal place, space and comfort. This apparent self-conscious neglect of matters of feeling and function seemed to be a common fault here at the Queensland Art Gallery. Is this the fate of all art today?

Why were the techniques not made explicit? Why were quilters not working there? Why were the displays so poor? Why display quilts on fake bed masses stuck into blind corners such that they can only be seen in part at the overhanging edge and otherwise flattened obliquely? The comment made seemed true: “This show has been designed by someone who knows nothing about quilts and quilting.” One could add: and very little about the design of displays too. Now I have to admit to being wrong about the lack of exposure of the rear of any quilt. There was one display that showed the unfinished back of a quilt through holes in the wall it was mounted on, but this was useful only to those who could understand the technique involved. Many stood gawking at things they could not comprehend. “Why did they leave the stitches there?” was one question that was overheard. Surely it is the task of the display to explain this before it is asked?

Museums and art galleries must be better than this. They never fail to understand how to make money. Why do they not care about displays? Gosh, do they really care for anything but profit? The catalogue for the show that was titled Quilts 1700 – 1945 had sold out in this last week. No, they were not going to reprint it. The art gallery did offer to take an order for the V&A publication that had been used in part for the catalogue – V&A Quilts 1700 – 2010 Hidden histories; untold stories - cost $55.00! We checked the Book Depository: cost delivered to your door - $38.00. Then we perused other items in the shop: a small Indian cotton bag - $32.00. “We made ninety of these for charity yesterday,” the stunned voice said. The small ring made from plasticine and tape - $30.00; the tiny tape folded into a flower-shaped broach with a central button - $45.00. Astonishing! Should it not be $4.50? Why does art always seem to overvalue itself, its significance and its importance? Does it think that it will be devalued as ‘art’ if it is cheaper? It was all very alarming and reminded us of our parking costs. Oh, time had passed. We had to leave, to go to our ‘all day’ parking location that we had occupied for less than three hours. Now, there’s a good profit for you. Gallery success! It could collect at least $45.00 for this space in one day at this rate.

So, in summary: amazing quilts in a shockingly cheap, careless display, a mere shadow of what it might have been. After many critiques of displays in art galleries, see http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2011/07/on-exhibitionism-art-of-display.html  and http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2011/06/surprizes.html  and http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/drawn-out.html , it seems that no one cares. Sadly the art is just the medium for profit. There is no understanding of the biblical text: “For what should it profit a man ..”  Soul is what is being ignored here. Such values are not easily converted into cash.

The exit from the art gallery gave one time to recall that from the V&A. We moved out to the side street into the London traffic and strolled down to the main entrance on Cromwell Road where we had arranged to meet friends who had visited the Natural History Museum opposite. On the large stones at the base of the V&A building one could see the impacts of WW2 bombing of London, the scars of other times. History was there in the fabric itself. In Brisbane, history had been obliterated when this new gallery was built some years ago. There were no markings here to remind anyone of anything but the squealing wheels on the painted floor. Such is this colony that carries its convict history in its genes  see -http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2012/04/conviction.html

The grand quilt sewn by the convict women for the ‘ladies’ was placed at the end of the display, almost as an aside. It was locked up in its own shop window - the only large quilt to be so displayed, spread out at an angle. Was this meaningful? One supposes that it had to take its correct place amongst the quilts from the old country, now venerated as V&A exhibits. The cringe is alive and well! The colony knows how it must act when the British are nearby. Why was this convict quilt not the centrepiece of this exhibition? It did not even fit into the chronology of the arrangement of the V&A items. It was a mere aside, a quaint local touch: a poor apology to the ‘home country.’

Are we still trying to prove ourselves like the female convicts who recorded in sad threads the hope that their enterprise might show that they had taken the advice of the ‘ladies’ not to waste their time on the voyage out to Australia? When will we ever learn? It seems we will not.