the
gift of hope 
ian clothier
the
gift of hope
Museum
of Contemporary Art Tokyo (MOT).
The
Gift of Hope! The promise of the future! Viewer participation in the art work
and interactivity! Such were the phrases in publicity associated with MOT's exhibition
of 13 international contemporary artists. "A time for a fresh wind to blow
through the art world" declared tokyo journal
[1].
Viewer
participation and interactivity are catch phrases found world wide to describe
some recent art. These concepts are seen as a means to propel the so called tired
aesthetics of traditional painting and sculpture into a hallowed ground where
the boundary between viewer and art work is dissolved, creating a richer experience
all round.
Does
it work, or is this just another repackaging, an art world air freshener spraying
a smidgen of innovation to tickle the intellect, which dilutes the ability of
art to make a profound experience for viewers? Fresh wind or flatus? That is the
question that will be answered in a short series of reviews based on the gift
of hope.
art
mutating
How was the participation and interactivity expressed? Brazilian
oscar satio oiwa exhibited paintings on four walls of one room, but there
was a difference: the floor was covered wall to wall with a white lino-like synthetic
layer upon which an island had been drawn in black felt tip pen, and above a false
ceiling of gauze had been installed, softening the gallery's lights. Take a walk
in the world of painting.
The
floor drawing is of an island, clearly tropical, with a boat moored at the beach.
Around the walls are: a triptych of an undersea scene, with strange mutant fish
emerging from dumped containers; on the remaining three walls, four large paintings
- a city scene where a canal mutates into boat; a city/boat image where the boat
is taking a bath; an ocean floor image where the skeletal remains of a boat recall
whalebones; and an industrial harbor view where the wharf buildings mutate into
an oriental dragon. Interesting, if variable in execution.
The
approach of taking stand alone objects and spreading into the exhibiting environment
will be familiar to those aware of the development of installations as an art
form by artists such as Alan Kaprow in the early sixties in the USA.
That
context was sculptural. This one is painting, with environmental concerns, a wide
palette - from the pastel tropical colors of the undersea scene through muted
tones in the boat works and weathered bronze coloration in the boat/dragon picture,
and mutating form (echoing surrealism) all declaring a contemporary aesthetic.
Strong links to previous aesthetics are quite apparent here: this is another step
in a chain, rather than a breakaway from previous expression.
Oiwa
expands the usual four walls of painting exhibition space to include six plane
surfaces. Around the walls are images of mutating things; on the floor, the black
and white boat is moored at an island containing a hut and sunchair; on the installed
gauze ceiling is a postcard. When the nuclear, trans-genetic and mutational rain
falls over earth, Oiwa recommends pulling up an armchair in the sunshine and sending
a postcard. It's hopeful, if pointless.
One
must assume the participatory aspect was mainly the fact of the audience walking
over the floor drawing and under the postcard canopy. The postcard canopy however,
doesn't quite make it as an equal partner in this hexagonal world. But there is
a track here, a line worth pursuing.
Overall,
this work stands at the juncture of participation and the perhaps 'old' aesthetic
concern of creating compelling images from the two dimensional surface that is
a painting. Whether the artist will be able to achieve a substantial bridge between
these aesthetics remains to be seen, but the ground work is there. It's a start
for the artist, but nowhere near a conclusive statement, interactive or profound.
adoration
of the lambretta
Thai artist navin rawanchaikul offers a sense-surround room installation
composed of painted and drawn images, text, video, a 1960's Lambretta motor scooter
and a complete reconstruction of a Thai hut. The painted images are both large
and small, presented on cardboard and paper, and directly onto the gallery walls;
all painted in a freehand style reminiscent of cartoon, advertising and postcard
images. As well as the (internal) walls of the gallery, the external walls of
the hut, partially composed of flattened cardboard boxes, also carry painted representations
of Italian city scenes. On one wall is a mural scale painted omnibus, summarizing
the display. It's surrounded by flashing lights.
The
texts (with accompanying black and white cartoon style images, both glued to the
wall) detail in both Japanese and English the original dream journey of sculptor
Inson Wongsam's travel overland on a Lambretta from Thailand to Italy in the 1960's;
the exhibiting artist's journey in 1997 where he came upon the original scooter
in a garage in Florence and the whole story unfolded (a replica of the original
Lambretta is presented in the centre-front of the gallery space); reflections
of the artist on both journeys; and information related to the careers of both
artist and teacher.
The
Thai hut has a verandah entrance area and a single internal room space. In the
internal room (shoes off please), a video plays, which at the time of visiting
was showing shots of scooters scooting around Italian cities.
Television
like, the video monitor stands in one corner of someone's life space. The hut
contained all of the daily accruements of some men's life: a cigarette lighter,
clock and watch with a book on a bedside table, clothes strung along one wall
and a mosquito net above, there is a girlie calendar, postcards and images of
cities, a radio and everything necessary to produce a humble meal. A space sufficient
for one.
It is
not difficult to imagine either Wongsam or Rawanchaikul lying on the floor bed
and dreaming of a journey overland to Italy from a hut just like the one presented
here. Both the original journey and the follow up one are documented on the walls
of the gallery. It is as if their dreams had congealed from puffs of thought into
reality and been fulfilled; then the residue of the journeying congealed again
to become the documents presented on the gallery walls.
This
layering, or overlaying of dreams and journeys, gives an enduring impact to the
installation. As visitors wander through the various spaces of the work, and view
the variously presented still and moving imagery, it becomes clear that the original
journey of the sculptor had some form of profound psychological impact on the
younger artist.
Rawanchaikul
has managed to clearly express this psychological nexus. The installation is intriguing,
at first entertaining but then slowly edging further into the human psyche. Whilst
short of profound in the religious or spiritual sense, and deliberately 'everyday'
in content, the work just goes to show how far art can get without spiritual ambitions:
about as far as most people go in their lives. Boundaries have indeed been dissolved,
and a richer experience created.
In
part two we look at world wide interactivity - the Kaki
Tree Project, rising from the ashes of nuclear destruction at Nagasaki and perhaps
the greatest of interactive art works; viewer/artist via gallery interactivity;
and a complete-me-please coloring in room.
back
to top
Note
[1]
Tokyo Journal Vol. 20 no. 235 p34.
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