Showing posts with label Brisbane Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brisbane Art. Show all posts

8 November 2015

Niqui Toldi’s Unbeing exhibition at Junky Comics: girls and anxiety



Words: Saskia Edwards
Images: Jonathan Rae

In Niqui Toldi’s illustrations there’re lots of girls - short hair, long hair, smoking, angry, pierced, bound.

But really, all these girls are Niqui. They’re like a self-portrait - a manifestation of how she feels and is. And they’re a way of grappling with her own life and self-identity. 

She says: “it’s just sort of a way for me to deal with how I’m feeling internally because I’m not always good at externalising how I feel to other people.

“It’s sort of a way for me to separate myself from being too vulnerable at the same time. It’s being vulnerable but without being completely vulnerable.

“Because it’s not always necessarily completely obvious that they are almost me.”

The girls seem sad at times, self-destructive, lost, with hands anxiously clasping at the ground or onto a cigarette or a match or a scalpel. And they do really display anxiety quite well - where nothing bad is happening immediately but you’re trapped sitting there half naked smoking and feeling helpless with a whirlwind in your brain.

This ‘Unbeing’ series looks at the last year of Niqui’s life. 

“A lot of things happened - a relationship I had of four years had just ended, my grandmother who lives alone and I’m her only blood relative... had a stroke so I’m her main contact.

“Then I was getting more responsibilities at work and it was the first year I’d been medicated and properly diagnosed for my anxiety.

“So it was a huge collection of all these things happening in the one year.

“I just started to deal with it - started drawing it.”

But it’s not that easy. Putting on a solo exhibition was a big deal for Niqui. 

“Because of my anxious nature and shyness I’ve always been really reluctant and I almost hold myself back.

“So this is the first time that I’ve really let myself put myself out there.

“Even last night at the launch, it was exciting and I was nervous and people had started coming in.

“And maybe five people had come in that I didn’t know and I just started crying up the back, which is really ridiculous because this is a really good thing, this is a fun time.”

Of course it went really well. People sardined themselves into Junky Comics, admiring what I guess they thought were imaginary sirens. 


If you really think about it, Niqui’s works remind you of the true purpose of art. They show that out of anxiety, self-doubt and heart ache you can make something. And it can be beautiful.




17 June 2015

'Imagine Being Attractive': Emily McGuire at Jugglers Art Space



Words: Saskia Edwards
Images: Jonathan Rae

‘I just want to be profound and gorgeous’.

Someone actually wrote that on Tumblr. 

And for anyone who’s sifted through the cacophony of Tumblrs - that effectively amount to photos of Cara Delevingne, shitty quality lo-fi webcam selfies and F. Scott Fitzgerald quotes - then this idea probably isn’t foreign.

Female fashion Tumblrs are the focus of Emily McGuire’s ‘Imagine Being Attractive’ exhibition at Juggler’s Art Space. It’s an extension of her Honours thesis, which basically found:

“On the one hand you feel empowered because you’re like, ‘I’m blogging, I can do whatever I want, pick whatever I want, post whatever I want, I can be anonymous, I can be not anonymous, I do whatever I want with my blog’.

“Even Tumblr says, you can literally quote ‘customise everything’.

“So it makes you feel like you’re really empowered.

“But the irony is that you’re blogging this really homogenous mainstream identity.

“Tumblr blogs try and appear smart funny and attractive, but the irony is that it’s often reposted or re-found images from various fashion magazines.

“So of course these archetypal weird fashion blogs are just going to repeat what’s in the media.”

It’s kind of a sad conclusion. That these blogs, that people spend countless hours manicuring to represent their individuality, often do the opposite. In fact, they’re just absorbed into an abyss of Tumblrs that can be reduced to: ‘hot chicks with emotional issues’. 

But it’s easy to be cynical about Tumblr. Of course it’s a site “populated by young people”. And who can’t say they didn’t listen to Nirvana, salivate over a copy of Vogue and look listlessly into the distance thinking, ‘no one understands my deep turmoil as a white skinny middle-class teenager’ (or some variation of this). It just wasn’t on a blog. Let’s just say there comes a point in life where you wrack your brain for your Myspace password hoping that you never get a high enough profile that someone writes an article about it. 

“Blogs like Tumblr are just a new way to find identity and in that search realise that it’s never found,” says Emily.

“So it’s the same with clothing, you get dressed every day and every day you’re trying to figure out what am I going to wear, who am I, what am I doing with fashion, or how am I going to express myself in clothing.

“And it’s a process that has no end. 

“My whole project parallels the way people use images on Tumblr to perform identity and the way fashion also constructs identity as a performance on the surface of the body.”

These ideas manifest themselves in two ways at Emily’s exhibition. Some of her works substitute archetypal images found on Tumblr for text. For example, the words ‘Bored Looking Girl in Designer Clothes’ or ‘An Oil Painting of Some Flowers’. The kind of crap that Tumblr is almost haemorrhaging. And secondly, Emily also used actual text found on Tumblr. 

“People have actually written that on Tumblr and posted it among all these fashion images on their blog.

“It’s like this weird self-deprecating irony.

“On one hand they’re affirming this beautiful identity and on the other hand they’re critiquing it at the same time.”

Why do people write these things or post the images that they do? Well apparently that’s a question for a PhD.

But if you think about it long enough, what happens on Tumblr kind of applies to us all. In a depressing and paradoxical way: in the search for individuality, we’re all being caught in a web of sameness. 







7 June 2015

Amber Wallis and Ari Athans at Edwina Corlette Gallery

 
Words: Saskia Edwards
Images: Jonathan Rae

The uncanny was a concept first characterised by Sigmund Freud in his essay Das Unheimliche. It’s that feeling when something looks simultaneously distinctly familiar and distinctly unfamiliar. It’s probably how you felt when you watched The Polar Express or saw a RealDoll or maybe that time you went to Madame Tussauds.

Within Amber Wallis’ work the uncanny takes on a different shape. In her paintings you catch glimpses of recognisable forms - a cactus, palm trees, clouds. But at the same time they look totally alien; like the landscapes have been melted, contorted and warped.

“A lot of people can read what they want into it and they might see objects or land or sex or what have you,” says Amber.

“And I think that’s an interesting place because it’s kind of neither here nor there. So then it’s not super obvious.

“I find straight portraiture or straight landscape, I just get a bit bored of it. If I’m painting myself, it’s something that gets a bit stuck for me.

“So I do like that space where things are a little bit confusing.”

Amber’s works tread the precarious line of representation and abstraction. Forms often fall off the precipice of reality into a more visceral interpretation of the objects or landscapes. It’s also a method of Australian artist Ken Whisson.

“I just love the way he composes his imagery and especially his earlier works.

“There’s just something, that line between abstraction and representation, and once you’re going down that path it does become about the painting and the formal qualities of it and I just think he nailed it, I just think he’s an amazing painter.”

Inherent in Amber’s works is her emotional state. Her mother died a few years ago and that grief has been laced through her process.

“Well you go through big heavy grief stuff you get very aware of the preciousness of life, the fragility of it.

“I think thematically, I was thinking of my mum and a lot of the objects she used to have around the house.

“She used to be a ceramics artist and in the back of my mind, I was sort of thinking of that stuff.

“I don’t think it shows in the work that much, but I know that it’s been created in that space.”

In validation of her talent, Amber was awarded the Brett Whiteley Travelling Art Scholarship.

“It meant that I have continued to have an art career one way or another.

“It really changed my life, enabled me to travel and be funded while I travel and make art for the first time in a full-time capacity for a certain amount of time.”


Now Amber is preparing for the Sydney Contemporary in September. But for now you can see her exhibition at Edwina Corlette Gallery. And really, you can see whatever you want in the uncanny. 






27 March 2015

Quick Look: Chicks on Speed at Milani Gallery



Words: Saskia Edwards 
Images: Jonathan Rae

Chicks on Speed are really about the clash in electroclash.

They’re about a clash of music, fashion, art and feminism.

The ensemble is led by Alex Murray-Leslie and Melissa Logan who come together in a synergy of synthesised Technicolor.

Writer Douglas Coupland described the pair as “living in a post Koonsian world with a curated 21st century lifestyle, where everything is art and everyone can be an artist and even non-art is art by default: a Readymade!”

It all stems from the late 90s when the duo met in Munich as Fine Arts Students. From there their brand of neon multimedia art spawned. It includes their rise in the 2000s as an electroclash band, fashion endeavours and installation art.


We went to their exhibition at Milani Gallery to see what their latest opus looks like - including their Max Kibardin collaboration electric guitar shoe, the e-shoe.














22 February 2015

Michael Zavros: unaffected opulence


Words: Saskia Edwards 
Images: Jonathan Rae
Original artwork: Michael Zavros

The grey veins of the marble pulsate.
Like muscular nacre - blemished with blue.
Perpetual beauty.
The perfect form.

Michael Zavros’ affinity with horses is obvious. So often has his work captured the spectacular physicality of the creatures.

But that equestrian pomp is also filled with a kind of shy mystery unique to horses. It’s bravado that’s matched with a timidity. Like they never lose their wildness.

While horses are often sociable - it’s married with a reclusiveness. In fact, there seems to only be tenuous collective nouns for the species.

And in some ways I see a parallel with Michael Zavros and the animal that’s been at the centre of so many of his pieces. 

With many works saturated in luxury and pageantry, it’s hard to imagine Zavros as the humble, unaffected man that he is - even wearing the same beat-up pair of Crocs that I’ve seen and read about in so many spreads.

But in many ways he’s a calm, in fact introverted, person. Despite travelling to exotic and glamorous destinations, Zavros is content in his Chandler hermitage (for now).

“I’m not a very extroverted person in public that can seem quite the opposite to what you just suggested.

“I can seem very aloof or arrogant.

“It’s often said to me when people are interviewing me or I meet someone that I’m much nicer than they expected. So I’m kind of aware of the different ways you can be perceived.”

Zavros’ working space - a detached white warehouse saturated in natural light, with exposed blonde wood, and a view of the chickens - is a sanctum.

“I live very deliberately in a vacuum here in Brisbane and we have a bit of an island.

“I don’t get out much and... now that I’m home I realise that I don’t speak to people during the week - I’m just doing my own thing.

“And that can be very grounding - I very deliberately sit outside of the art world. I think my work can be a part of the art world, I don’t really have to.”

The walls and tables are lined with taxidermy, skulls and books - cheetahs and peacocks’ glass eyeballs follow you. It’s somewhere between Georgia O’Keeffe and Rembrandt’s studios while taking a stroll through Versailles. And, of course, you have the choice to recline on a Chesterfield sofa or Corbusier chaise lounge.

It’s like stepping back into Zavros’ curated exhibition for the Queensland Art Gallery.

“Instead of curating a show I sort of curated a character or a persona,” he says.

“It was very autobiographical - it shouldn’t be a surprise that you would feel like you’re in the same space.”

There’s a few differences: a sewing machine and patterns (evidence of his daughter’s foray into fashion design) and a kite, which belongs to his son Leo. Apparently they’re unfazed by their father’s success.

“That is just their everyday existence, this is how everyone lives, everyone’s dad is at home doing these things,” says Zavros.

“And every now and then they’ll observe that we do live differently to some of our friends or have a different take on life or they’re exposed to different things.”

Unlike most dads, Zavros was commissioned to paint Victoria Cross recipient Corporal Ben Roberts-Smith for the Australian War Memorial. It’s quite a departure from his paintings of Prada shoes, Rolls-Royces and floral arrangements. But it still retains Zavros’ aesthetic - laced with classicism and modernity.

“That’s one of those lovely things as an artist - you’re asked to respond to something that otherwise you wouldn’t.

“So you bring everything that interests you or that you’re about to subject matter that’s really not what you’re about at all.”

Depicting Australia’s most highly-decorated serviceman came with its challenges. It took Zavros almost three years to realise the work. 

Michael said in that time “Ben had just grown larger and larger in the nation’s consciousness and he’s just become such a hero for Australia. I think that that probably is another reason why I was very slow in finalising the work because I was changing direction more and becoming more and more aware of who he was and the pressure that was on me to create the right thing.”

Now, Zavros is turning to another endeavour - photography. He’s freshly home from LA where he shot with Sean O'Pry, who’s currently the world’s highest paid male model and also the star of Taylor Swift’s Blank Space video (already viewed half a billion times). 

“So he’s suddenly famous on a whole other level. But he was great, he got into working with an artist as opposed to a commercial client.

“So I’m showing that work in Hong Kong [next month].” 

With work that’s so imbued with beauty, in its subject and treatment, photography opens a new level of perfection. It’s the instantaneous nature of photography that appeals to Zavros. The fact that it immortalises an ephemeral moment. This is instead of painting, where bringing a vision into fruition can be very arduous.

“I still love painting and I will always paint. But there’s an immediacy I suppose to that kind of image.

“Especially when I’m mimicking the fashion world and various slick commercial aesthetics of I guess advertising.

“There’s kind of an immediacy there that I like. That photography affords. I’m enjoying photography more and more.”


Already, Zavros’ photographic work encompasses his signature ability to amalgamate classical beauty and modern excess.


It’s hard to explain what’s so captivating about Michael Zavros as a person and an artist. It’s a combination of being aware of his genius talent, but also his humanity.

















11 January 2015

Sandra Selig and Vernon Ah Kee at Milani Gallery



Words: Saskia Edwards 
Photos: Jonathan Rae
Sculpture/Collage: Sandra Selig
Paintings: Vernon Ah Kee

Sandra Selig’s works look like interstellar origami - where planets, nature and fractals envelope each other.

The images are from outdated science textbooks. They have the quality of images in old atlases. Their treatment captures the 20th century. I mean the aesthetic has the colours and character of film photography particular to the 20th century.

“[I] find a lot of the images very moving,” says Sandra.

“I like that the text does not reflect that, so it leaves room for me to re-interpret.

“With the folded works, I like the unexpected pairings of images when you fold over a page that has an image on both sides.

“It has multi-dimensional play.”

The works seem like they’re still evolving. While delicately and purposefully arranged, they appear to be in a state of growth. I suppose much like the nature of the universe or our environment.

“I think it's interesting if the work doesn't completely know itself but is partially in a state of trying to do so. It's a puzzling soul, more like a garden.

“Changing in time, reaching for the sun, but also staying in the earth it was planted in.”

The NSW-born artist completed a Masters in Visual Arts at QUT in 1999. Sandra has exhibited internationally, notably in Britain and Japan. Her interests also extend to music as an active member of the underground Brisbane music landscape. Previously Sandra played in The Deadnotes and now she’s half of the lo-fi electronic band Primitive Motion. She’s combined the two mediums.

Sandra partnered with her bandmate Leighton Craig “on Visual Art/music hybrid projects”.

In March the duo will release their second LP to which the artwork will be integral and complementary. In the same month Sandra will exhibit two major installations - one at Sydney’s MCA and the other at the NGV in Melbourne.

Until then, take a look at Sandra’s latest works. They’re kind of calming, natural and nostalgic. 


Also at Milani Gallery but with a very different quality - Vernon Ah Kee’s paintings.



Above: Sculpture/Collage works by Sandra Selig




Above: Paintings by Vernon Ah Kee







2 November 2014

Lindy Lee at the UQ Art Museum



Words: Saskia Edwards
Images: Jonathan Rae
Original Artwork: Lindy Lee 

It’s a long reach
Through the words, and time, and thoughts.
The differences.
But eventually a swift blow cuts through the divide,
And we’re all the same.
Emulsified then amalgamated.
The ever-narrowing sea.

Lindy Lee - even her name evokes the romance of east meets west.

And the acclaimed artist’s work creates the same harmony.

Her pieces, particularly her renowned early photocopy work, connect her Chinese heritage with a Western aesthetic.

Lindy’s photocopies seem so timeless because of their subtle intrigue.

They demand contemplation; how a can person look so different, seem so different, with just a change in saturation.

The faces are almost hypnotic.

The audience almost becomes meditative, stemming back to Lindy’s exploration of Buddhist and Taoist philosophies.

Her almost three decades of work is beautiful and enduring.


“Take care with the end as you do with the beginning.” - Lao Tzu



11 October 2014

Aesthetic Fixation X Shanna Muston: Wooden Memories


Words and Creative Direction: Saskia Edwards
Images: Jonathan Rae 

Wood is part of so many foundations; warmth, shelter, life. It holds memories and bends with memories. Shanna Muston explores this nostalgia in her small objects and jewellery. They're comprised of silver and pieces of timber from Queenslanders. These iconic buildings have created a shared memory for thousands of people who can reminisce on squeaking floors, ribbons of wind escaping through cracks in boards and all the verandas that are different but the same. The memories held in Shanna's jewellery are as much my memories as much as they are your memories as much as they are everyone's memories - sinking into the same colours, sounds and emotions. 


3 October 2014

Desire with Judith Wright


Words: Saskia Edwards
Images: Jonathan Rae

Desire is such a visceral emotion that runs deep within human instinct. We want, even long for, so much. Desire has been the motivation for incredible accomplishment and devastating destruction. It has shaped much of our existence from our economy to our ambitions. But where does this deeply entrenched craving come from? Perhaps it’s a byproduct of a Darwinian need to survive. This almost uncontrollable force is often inexplicable as much as it is ineffable. Through her series of work called ‘Desire’, that’s currently showing at the QUT Art Museum, Judith Wright attempts to give some clarity to this often irrepressible emotion. Her artwork articulates desire, which words often lack the ability to fully explain.

I spoke to Curator Megan Williams about the exhibition.

SE: Can you tell me a bit about the concept behind ‘Desire’ and that name itself, ‘Desire’?

MW: So the concept for the exhibition is that it looks at the series of work that Judith has been producing since 2003 that has culminated very recently. So the body of work extends across seven video works titled ‘Seven Stages of Desire’ that were produced from 2003 to 2010, so over seven years, and then three installation works that were created from 2011 and completed in 2013. So this series of work looks most explicitly at restaging the life of a lost child and it’s sort of taken from a very personal situation that Judith encountered... So the exhibition brings together the majority of these works in their entirety for the first time. 

SE: Did Judith express to you that this was kind of a catharsis for her, that it was perhaps a way of her exploring her own emotions and personal experiences?

MW: It’s hard for me to talk about Judith’s intent, but it’s known that that’s what these works are about... It needs to start from a personal place and it has started from this very personal place, but it’s not made overtly explicit in her work. I think she feels that artwork needs to come from a personal place in the first instance, but then through the making process becomes quite something else and the intent is that viewers bring to it what they come to, their own personal experience.

SE: Now the idea desire, how does Judith reconcile this through her works?

MW: Well desire is something that everyone lives with in some capacity. I mean it really pushes our daily life, I guess, it’s what we strive for. We desire so many things... What seems like a very simple idea, but it’s a very complicated idea... It has been throughout philosophical history, the idea of what desire is. In relation to Judith’s work, I think that she very interestingly plays with this notion of desire. She obviously references it in the title of her work, ‘Seven Stages of Desire’. Other artworks include the word ‘desire’ in it, so obviously it is a particular emotional state that she’s interested in exploring. I guess in these works it’s probably this desire for this child that she lost, that that desire for that life that this child could have had.

SE: I know that this idea has been explored through a lot of varied mediums [sculpture, video, drawing], how did you and Judith bring all of that together?

MW: I mean she’s very skillful. And she’s not interested, and I would argue a lot of contemporary artists, there’s still a lot of contemporary artists that stick to one medium or are medium-specific, but there are a lot of others that transfer their skills between art forms to kind of capture using mediums that are the most appropriate to capture what they want to capture. I mean Judith has really interesting history as a dancer as well, which completely informs her practice. So her work is... always about or has a sense of the body of course and of space. And so it seems quite natural that she would explore that through sculpture and installation-based practice, which actually plays  very explicitly with the idea of space. She explores these things through 2D-media as well, through painting and the like... She’s played with  installation  a lot, but not to the extent that she has done over the last three or so years. And the videos were created in 2003, or started being created in 2003, and she’s worked collaboratively with her son Peter who’s a videographer so she’s worked with him to create these as well. So it’s also utilising those skills too.