Compared to previous years, this exhibition seemed to focus more on consolidating ideas. Although conceptual art is known to be largely unpopular with the mainstream audience, this show was quite novel in the variety of different mediums and methods used. In previous years I had witnessed a great many sculptural and painting works, which while definitely have merit in their own way, could become a little mundane after a while.
The 2020 show, on the other hand did the exact opposite. Through the use of film, photography, found objects and even documentation and writing, it was difficult for the viewer’s interest to wane. It is also worth noting that the exhibition was curated in a way that each body of work thematically connected to the ones presented alongside them. I was particularly drawn to Aliza Levi’s body of work The Web Of Empire. Upon entering the room, one is faced by the sparse layout of book spines lining the walls. Although minimalist from afar, up close each photograph is extremely telling. Books spines have gold emblazoned words such as Through the Dark Continent and Map of Africa. The anthropologist titles which are focussed on and contrast strongly with a white backdrop, are photographed like a study in a museum. But rather than the colonised used as an subject, it is the work of the coloniser that is under the viewer’s gaze.
While looking at these photographs, there was the audio of Levi’s video The Miners’ Companion, which was a clever accompaniment to The Web of Empire. Using two screens with almost identical videos, a man gazes directly into the camera. On one screen, he asks a question about employment in the mines with a very commanding, condescending tone: “Do you know machines?”, with the next screen repeating the question in another language (possibly Afrikaans). By showing only the interrogator, rather than the one being interrogated, this work reinforces the theme of the coloniser being the subject of scrutiny.
Other works of this exhibition also consistently followed a theme (although this varied depending on the artist). Kara Baldwin’s Philosophish was an intriguing, but humorous work that involved a Big Mouth Billy Bass, programmed to not sing, but explain philosophical theories in a robotic voice. The clay chicken and the video Chicken Strip explored the juxtaposition between different objects and how certain patterns can be disrupted and confuse expectations of the viewer. As I was initially puzzled with how these objects had worked together, this meaning was not so clear to me until I had read the catalogue. However, without knowing the context, these works seemed to me to consistently use animals as a subject matter. As a result, there was some pattern involved, (with the seagulls and chickens) however, not all the animals featured in the work were the same (such as the fish). Furthermore, the ambiguity of these works made viewing all the more entertaining and humorous, providing the viewer with much food for thought (if you pardon the expression).
Overall, there were many other interesting works in the exhibition, although a few did stand out the most to me. As mentioned, I do like the use of multimedia and felt that the use of video was particularly strong in conveying an idea. Although I would not recommend this exhibition to those who prefer traditional representational works, this is definitely worth seeing for those who would like to have more of an appreciation for the conceptual (but don’t mind trying to work things out as well).
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