Courtauld Critics Archive

…And Wishing You Were Far Away exhibition at The Lloyds Club

By Madeleine Brown (M.A. student, The Courtauld)


In the monochrome depths of the City, reside two enchanting surprises for art-lovers. The first is The Lloyds Club, a private member’s club housed in a grade II listed building; the second – and most important – is the exhibition, …And Wishing You Were Far Away, currently on show within.

Susie Hamilton, Three Hens, 2015. Oil on canvas.

Susie Hamilton, Three Hens, 2015. Oil on canvas.

Spread across all three floors, the show exhibits contemporary works by three artists, Roxy Walsh, Susie Hamilton and Persi Darukhanawala. Structured by the curatorial collective, Patch, and curated by their founder and director, Katie Heller, and exhibited artist, Darukhanawala, the exhibition combines great organisation of diverse artworks with a creative raison d’etre that results in a superbly synthesised and meaningful show.

The title comes from Darukhanawala’s love of Paul Weller and The Jam; “…And Wishing You Were Far Away” are lyrics from the 1980 hit That’s Entertainment. Regardless of how familiar you are with the song, this phrase ignites the imagination, encouraging the beholder to think about what it means to be somewhere else. Interpreting the artworks through this thematic prism means that the exhibition is highly interactive – a highly personal response can be elicited. Indeed, such musing should be all too easy for those stepping off the streets of rat-race London.

The exhibition really is a feast for the eyes: Daruhanawala’s use of geometric shapes and single lines executed in brightly coloured paints is highly appealing. With these minimalist markings on white backgrounds, the pieces powerfully encourage the viewer to look within themselves and consider what they can take from this image. ‘Wishing you were far away’ in front of these works has the capacity to transport you emotionally and imaginatively.

Persi Darukhanawala, My mind goes ablank, 2015. Watercolour on paper.

Persi Darukhanawala, My mind goes ablank, 2015. Watercolour on paper.

The minimalism contrasts with the thickly applied and luscious brushstrokes of Susie Hamilton’s representational yet abstract work which – with their colour, texture and content – are commanding for the eye and, at the same time, relatively certain in terms of where the artist wants you, the beholder, to end up when viewing these painted scenes.

Roxy Walsh’s pieces are similar to Hamilton’s in terms of their abstract representations although the medium is more varied, with use of gesso and linen fabric. The visual field of the exhibit pieces is relatively small too, inviting close-up inspection and personal contemplation.

Beyond exercising the beholder’s eyes, a plurality of the senses is engaged by the exhibition. On the top floor where Darukhanawala pieces are situated, music plays in the background. The experience of viewing becomes totally immersive, further provoking a mindful response from the viewer. It also reminds us that wishing we were somewhere else isn’t just about picturing somewhere else, it can be about smelling it, hearing it, touching it.

The lack of wall labels contributes to the personal meditation facilitated by this exhibition too. It is rare that a show can be so personally satisfying both in terms of aesthetic experience and the poignant meanings elicited in the beholder. With summer just around the corner, venture far away by all means; but do stop off at The Lloyd’s Club too – you’ll be surprised how far away you can get simply by experiencing the panelled walls and works that hang upon them.

*The exhibition runs until 1st July 2016.

Bringing the margins to centre

by Julia Secklehner (PhD student)

Organised by the Courtauld’s Professor Sarah Wilson, ‘Drawing on the sidelines’ was a conversation between the South African artist William Kentridge, the art historian András Szántó, the Director of the Animation Academy at Loughborough University Paul Wells, and Professor Wilson, about the the Hungarian painter and animator György Kovásznai (1934-1983) in particular, and the role of political artists in marginalized and isolated societies in general.

The parallels between Kentridge and Kovásznai’s works, an attention to mining movements as creative inspiration and a sign for political action for example, provided intriguing starting points to the discussion. Is it possible that societies which operate under heavy censorship and limit civil liberties are the key to artistic freedom? This was one of the questions the discussion centred on. As Kentridge explained, when his native South Africa was internationally boycotted, the Johannesburg art scene was nonetheless thriving. Why? Because he and his peers were not under the pressure to create something that related to the international art scene and their ‘great artistic forefathers’. Rather, they could fully focus on their own ‘emergency of making’, reacting to the restrictive world they lived in without having to worry how their work would be perceived in the wider cultural community.


One particular way this development manifested itself in East Central Europe, Wells argued, was through animation. While the medium today is largely known through pop-culture giants like Disney, Wells pointed out that animation, as is slowly being uncovered, was also used in the fine arts, particularly in East Central Europe. Next to Hungary, where Kovásznai lived and worked, there was a surge in puppet theatre in socialist Czechoslovakia for example, which could operate as a critical force of culture and class consciousness within the popular sphere. Particularly in reference to caricature, animation has a longstanding relation to the fine arts, Wells highlighted, not at least considering cubist experiments. Humour, in animation as in caricature, can function as a means of ventilation in oppressive societies, and for precisely that reason was not always as strictly censored as may be assumed – thus affording artists a greater liberties of expression through the ambivalence inherent in ‘a good joke’. Animation as a form of ‘marginalised fine art’ could operate in those oppressed societies of the 1970s and 1980s as a new form of expression among artists, articulating their own social utopia.

Another, unpredicted, aspect was Kovásznai’s use of gender in his work in reference to a brief piece of animation about the artist, which was shown at the beginning of the discussion. In the film, a number of women with large breasts were shown, which provoked the question how and why the female body was used as a means of mediation for political issues, poignantly highlighted by Professor Tamar Garb (UCL). To a large part, this issue remained unexplored, highlighting the fact that, when uncovering ‘forgotten’ artists like Kovásznai, basic frameworks first need to be established before considering their wider significance in society – including gender. There clearly was a shift towards the erotic in critical works created under oppressive regimes, which some art historians, like Martina Pachmanová in the Czech Republic, have begun to uncover – making it only a matter of time until Kovásznai’s work will also be taken under the lens of gender politics…

The gender question highlighted the crux of the conversation on the whole: there is an entire Central European avant-garde, which still remains to be explored. As Wilson emphasised, Central Europe is so close by, yet remains a ‘riddle to be opened’. As a region of so much cultural and linguistic variety that has long been marginalised for its ‘political otherness’, its ‘rediscovery’ through the likes of Kovásznai and the recent attention paid to fine-arts animation at Loughborough paves the way for a more inclusive art history and may just change the way we perceive those societies on the whole.

The exhibition ‘Kovásznai – A Cold War Artist. Animation. Painting.’ is shown at Somerset House 3-5 March 2015.

No Colour Bar: Black British Art in Action 1960 – 1990

By Hannah Gormley (BA3 student)

Colour Bar: Black British Art in Action 1960 – 1990, an art and archive exhibition at The Guildhall Art Gallery comes across, at first, as a total enigma. If you are lucky enough to know of the Guildhall Gallery, one of the more esoteric gems of The City, it is also likely you missed the brazen red banners downstairs, proclaiming the shows existence. In all fairness, one wouldn’t expect a show commemorating two of London’s most valuable creative activists, concerned with celebrating and exploring the Black British experience of the seventies and eighties, to take place in a gallery that is a branch of the City of London corporation. Nor would you particularly expect a show containing Eddie Chambers ‘How Much Longer You Bastards’ (1983), a brutal challenge to Barclay’s involvement in South Africa at the time of the Apartheid, to be nestled within the financial centre of the country.

‘Recreation of the Walter Rodney Bookshop owned by Bogle L’Ouverture Publishing at No Colour Bar’

‘Recreation of the Walter Rodney Bookshop owned by Bogle L’Ouverture Publishing at No Colour Bar’

No Colour Bar: Black British Art in Action 1960 – 1990 is an amalgamation of art and archival material related to the African and Caribbean diaspora and those interested in the ‘black’ British experience – though their use of the term ‘Black’ denotes a political and cultural struggle rather than a specific skin colour. Part of the exhibition is dedicated to the efforts of Jessica and Eric Huntley, Guyanese born migrants who settled in London in the 1960s and founded Bogle L’Ouverture Publications in 1969. This bookshop is recreated and becomes the centre of the exhibition, attempting to evoke the ‘cultural hub’ where artists, writers and activists met and shared their work. The Huntley’s notably published Dr Walter Rodney’s ‘Groundings with my Brothers’ and ‘How Europe Underdeveloped Africa’ which were seminal to reframing black experience and analysing the systematic profiteering from oppression across the world.

Sonia Boyce, ‘She Ain’t Holding Them Up, She’s Holding On’ (1986)

Sonia Boyce, ‘She Ain’t Holding Them Up, She’s Holding On’ (1986)

This archival material is then set against art from the BLK art group of the 1980s and the Caribbean Artist Movement, or artists with similar concerns. This is where it is possible to get lost – as the link between the Huntley’s activism and artists is subtle. It is also too easy to presume that these artists like Sonia Boyce, Denzil Forrister, Keith Piper and Eddie Chambers were solely political or ‘black’ artists – when really their artworks were personal expressions that in certain works, incidentally, explored the societal tension of the time. Sonia Boyce’s rich She Ain’t Holding Them Up, She’s Holding On (1986) pastel drawing is deeply personal and recreates the psyche of a young girl formative years, contending with her identity as both Black and British – at a time when such things could be considered incongruous. Even the shows title ‘No Colour Bar’ references the formal and unofficial racial segregation in the UK and across the world. And this is where, as a show championing the Black British experience and struggle, often under tradition and the establishment, the potency of the exhibitions message is revealed – in a grand government run gallery. Hopefully this show not only allows people to reconsider their assumptions of Black British art but of the Guildhall Gallery too.

A Mockery of Contemporary Art Taste or a Triumph of Medium over Message?

A symposium and an exhibition at Hauser & Wirth Somerset

By Wiktor Komorowski (PhD student)

Softer Targets is a solo exhibition by Jenny Holzer at Hauser & Wirth Somerset, featuring both new work and a selection of significant pieces drawn from over three decades of the artist’s career. The exhibition was accompanied by a symposium under the McLuhanian title ‘The Message and the Medium’. The main aim of this one day meeting was to explore the use of language and technology in art.

Softer Targets, exhibition view

Softer Targets, exhibition view

The undisputable highlight of the symposium were talks given by Dave Beech and Pavel Büchler. Dave Beech is an artist in the collective Freee, as well as a writer and curator. He is also Professor of Art at Valand Academy, Gothenburg, Sweden. His work focuses on slogans, billboards and publications that challenge the commercial and bureaucratic colonisation of the public sphere of opinion formation. Pavel Büchler is an artist, teacher and occasional writer who describes his practice as ‘making nothing happen’. Büchler teaches on MA Fine Art at Manchester School of Art.

The presence of two conceptual artists among the panellists contributed to a more interactive discussion by providing a testimony of the first-hand experience of artistic practice and through brining ample examples drawn from the portfolio of both speakers. Beech’s talk concerned the foundations and the almost 50-year long tradition of text art. His presentation emphasised the artistic potential of language that provides almost limitless opportunities to unfold different contexts. Language, as a highly culturally-related medium, became a foundation of all conceptual creation as it facilitates artists to introduce additional levels of meaning. His presentation was followed by Büchler’s talk on the discrepancy between the limitless potential of language and technological limitations of working with letters and words. Pavel Büchler focused on the gap between ideology that supports the conceptual practice and the frequent practical difficulty of bringing these ideological assumption to life.

Jenny Holzer, There were eleven of us, 2015

Jenny Holzer, There were eleven of us, 2015

The presentations given by Beech and Büchler fully engaged the audience, but, surprisingly, did not build on the links between the tradition of text art and the work of Jenny Holzer. The lack of a more structured commentary from Beech and Büchler left an impression that the tragedy Holzer talks about in her art becomes marginalised and serves merely as a platform for a discussion over aesthetic form and different modes of reception.

The absence of further considerations of the message Holzer is trying to convey, pauperises her work to a purposefully hyperaesthetic commodity. Her practice seen in such a light does not provide the silent victims an opportunity to speak but rather questions the moral condition of the contemporary audience, in particular, its ability to spot the message under a thick layer of conceptual aestheticisms. Holzer’s exhibition at Hauser & Wirth, similarly to the recent exhibition of Ai Weiwei’s works at the Royal Academy, raises the question how far has the politically inspired conceptual art turned into a mockery of contemporary art taste?

Jenny Holzer: Exclusive

 ‘The Message and the Medium: a Symposium’ at Hauser & Wirth Somerset

By Professor Sarah Wilson and Dr Irene Noy

On October 19th 2015 three Courtauld pilgrims made their way by tube, train and taxi to a much welcoming Hauser & Wirth Somerset (near Stourhead). Formerly the medieval manor of Bruton, its Farmhouse, Stables, Cowsheds, Piggery & Threshing Barn were repurposed as the country playground of the international art set – attached to the blue chip gallery which has branches in London, Zurich and New York. Set in Piet Oudolf’s wild landscaped gardens – far from the aesthetic of the farm itself or from a Capability Brown (despite a nod to the Oriental) the farm buildings have had new wings for art added to the original plan. Precursors might include the Insel Hombroich, Neuss (near Düsseldorf) with its ancillary pavilions. In Somerset, Smiljan Radić’s Serpentine Pavilion (2014) was marooned in the park like a biomorphic spacecraft in autumnal landscape. Inside, playful and seemingly messy junk décor decorates The Roth Bar & Grill.

Smiljan Radić, Serpentine Pavilion (2014)

Smiljan Radić, Serpentine Pavilion (2014)

The impressive Jenny Holzer installation which for the first time filled all the display spaces, functioned as a backdrop to the event entitled ‘The Message and the Medium’. The short abstract indicated that the symposium would deal with the issues raised by Marshall McLuhan in regard to language and innovations in technology and their usage by artists. In addition, it proposed to address issues concerning those who make, who view and who consume art (the self-selected audiences, predominantly local,  paid high fees for their participation and lunch). Instead Jon Bird, Professor of Art and Critical Theory at Middlesex University, focussed upon the shared preoccupations and generational transition between Nancy Spero, Leon Golub and Holzer, with whom she was friends. Holzer’s archive of redacted documents from American military archives underline her recent series Dust Paintings. Her turn to paintings references suprematist precursors and the fetish of Greenbergian flatness. Ruth Blacksell, Lecturer in Typography and Graphic Communication, focused on Art & Language and the ‘story of conceptual art’. The art polemicist, Dave Beech, gave examples from his contemporary performative practices and insisted on manifestos as a voiced performance, relating to the actions by his group Freee, which transforms read text into a democratic process of interpretation and voicing. Lastly, the experienced conceptual artist Pavel Büchler presented his Honest Work and his subversive play with the meaning as well as the materiality of actual letters.

Jenny Holzer, Floor (2015)

Jenny Holzer, Floor (2015)

Discussion generated by an ‘is it art?’ question evoked by Holzer’s work led to an amusing internal polemic around Duchamp’s urinal versus his eponymous Fountain. Yet the display of neatly cleaned and arranged human bones on charmingly rustic gate-legged tables in the barn ­­—  the Lustmord tables of 1994, which ‘materialised’ debates on rape and murder during the Balkan war — provoked no comment during the whole conference. Holzer’s recent ‘painting’, which appeared to be conceptual as Büchler pointed out, looks like it is entirely the work of anonymous assistants. A disturbing play of aesthetics, pathos and indeed bathos, nonetheless related to extreme instances of abuse and torture ­ — the redacted documents from American military archives, which become increasingly invisible as suprematist/Greenbergian references take over. Not only does Holzer ‘make the inhuman visible’ as Bird argued: the signatures of perpetrators as well as victims added a dialectical comment on the state of the human race at war.

‘Pastoral conceptualism’?  the Hauser & Worth Somerset framing demonstrates the art world ‘red in tooth and claw’ (Tennyson): uncannily echoed by the displays of carcasses and dead fowl in the designer kitchen.

Salt Room at The Roth Bar & Grill

Salt Room at The Roth Bar & Grill

Interestingly, Holzer’s exhibition was accompanied by an education guide (which was included in the symposium pack) and included some of the following questions for discussion:

1.      Do you think that Jenny Holzer’s work is Feminist? Discuss reasons for your answer.

2.      How does art make you politically aware? Think of some examples.

3.      What emotions do the texts in Lustmord evoke in you?

4.      How do Holzer’s Truisms work in promoting social change?

5.      How does protest become art?

6.      Do you consider what Holzer does as art?

7.      Do you think it can still be considered Jenny Holzer’s artwork even if the text comes from a different author?

It would have been beneficial to refer to at least some of them and perhaps voice the contemporary connections between those who make, who view and who consume art – issues that were perceptible and visible within the Hauser & Wirth Somerset setting but went unspoken.

Drawing Intuitions in Paris: Salon du Dessin 2015


Salon Du Dessin 2015 at Palais Brongniart, Place de la Bourse in Paris

If dreams are the road to the unconscious, as Sigmund Freud famously proclaimed, drawing may be a way to reconnect to the dream content. Dreams – blurry reminiscences, which often seem meaningless and tend to fade away shortly after awakening – might be brought back through the drawing process. A manifestation of such resurfacing unconscious is Meret Oppenheim’s Taureau transportant une stèle (1933), a beautifully-executed aquarelle of a bull carrying a green stele with a golden finish, obviously alluding to a phallus. This is just one among manifold examples at Thessa Herold’s surrealist display for this year’s Salon Du Dessin. Can any other artistic medium compete with the spontaneous and intuitive way in which a drawing captures the resurfacing unconscious?

The Salon Du Dessin, which annually takes place in the Parisian spring season since 1991, offers diverse opportunities for getting to know artists on a much more intimate level, which may be concealed in their other works. A heavily laboured and re-worked painting certainly does not allow for the intuitiveness of drawing.

 Mary Cassatt 'Mère et enfant' (1898/99) at Damien Boquet Art

Mary Cassatt ‘Mère et enfant’ (1898/99) at Damien Boquet Art

An especially intimate example is Mary Cassatt’s Mère et enfant (1898/99), a pastel and chalk drawing capturing the loving union between a mother and her child, in which the nutured infant seems to glow and blossom in colour. The way in which Cassatt renders the mother merely in chalk lines intimates how mothers would often give away everything they possess for the benefit of their children.



Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun Study for the Head of Madonna and Child renders the saint as an approachable earthly woman, who gazes down on us with tired eyelids. Her slightly undone hair that falls on her shoulder evokes parallels to Le Brun’s self-portrait at London’s National Gallery. In her self-portrait, the artist’s hair appears similarly tousled under her straw hat than Mary’s escaping strands of hair.

Tomma Abts - one of the three shortlisted artists for The Daniel & Florence Guerlain Foundation Prize for Contemporary Drawing

Tomma Abts – one of the three shortlisted artists for The Daniel & Florence Guerlain Foundation Prize for Contemporary Drawing

Whilst most contemporary drawings are to be found at Drawing Now, the sister fair of the Salon Du Dessin which takes place at the Carreau Du Temple in the Marais, a tiny section of the Salon is dedicated to contemporary drawing, where the three shortlisted artists for ‘The Daniel & Florence Guerlain Foundation Prize for Contemporary Drawing’ exhibit. One of them is the London-based Tomma Abts who emphasised the force of the spontaneity of drawing in a recent interview: ‘I like this spontaneity and when I do happen to begin works with a more precise idea in mind, this proves to be less interesting because what matters to me is the moment when the movement appears in the work.’

This year’s Salon Du Dessin certainly offered plenty of these moments of drawing intuitions.

An exercise in connoisseurship at the Dulwich: would you know cultural hegemony if you saw one?

Dulwich 1 Made in China, the conceptual exhibition currently on view at Dulwich Picture Gallery, invites viewers to spot, among the gallery’s collection of Old Master paintings, the one Chinese replica the curator has substituted for an original. The exhibition description attempts, disingenuously, to situate this game of ‘spotting the fake’ within the well-worn paradigm of institutional critique, and purports to challenge conservative notions of authenticity. But as the description itself notes, Dulwich is already filled with non-originals: copies of Old Masters by disciples and copyists, works with forged signatures or no signature at all. It would seem that traditional notions of authenticity are already challenged with the inclusion of these works. What then, is the significance of the Chinese replica?

Dulwich 2.1What in fact lies at the heart of Made in China are not hackneyed issues of institutional perception but rather issues of East and West, of what it means to be Chinese and European. While Constable copied Ruisdael’s Windmills in order to improve his own craft, it is safe to say that the unnamed Chinese copyist was driven by a different set of motivations. Nor is it conceivable that the Chinese replica will ever be seen to have artistic value in its own right, in the same way that Constable’s ‘copy’ is now attributed and displayed alongside Ruisdael’s original in the Dulwich. There is thus an implicit distinction here between the copy and the Chinese copy. The copy, insofar as it emerges out of Western art historical tradition, can still count as authentic culture, while the Chinese copy, produced outside of Western tradition by those wholly unconnected to the lineage of the Old Masters, can only be the ‘fake’ to be ‘spotted.’ What is new here then, is not the copy, but that the copy is Chinese. The title, which refers to China’s role in global capitalism as ‘the world’s factory,’ makes this implication clear: just as it manufactures knock-off goods, so China also manufactures knock-off culture.

Above: Jacob van Ruisdael (1628/9-1682), Landscape with Windmills near Haarlem, oil on panel, c1650-52. Below: John Constable (1776-1937), Landscape with Windmills near Haarlem, after Jacob van Ruisdael, oil on panel, 1830.

Above: Jacob van Ruisdael (1628/9-1682), Landscape with Windmills near Haarlem, oil on panel, c1650-52.
Below: John Constable (1776-1937), Landscape with Windmills near Haarlem, after Jacob van Ruisdael, oil on panel, 1830.

In insidiously advancing a dichotomy between the European original and the Chinese fake, Made in China reinforces the orientalist framework which understands Europe as authentic culture itself, and the East, as always only an inferior copy. Are we honestly to believe though, that the Chinese artist who mechanically replicates European paintings all day does so freely, because imitation of the West is quintessentially Chinese? Or is she rather not forced to participate in an extreme division of labor whereby the brain and the hand, creative and physical labor, are separated utterly—not only by geography and class, but also history, language and culture? Made in China perpetuates the voicelessness of the Chinese artist. China here exists only as an ersatz ‘Europe,’ and we are invited to locate it—that dark, silent, foreign specter which has infiltrated the ‘original’ Greco-Roman, Judeo-Christian imagery that line Dulwich’s walls. Indeed, it is impossible not to shudder at that seemingly innocuous question: ‘have you found the replica?’ in an exhibition entitled Made in China.

Xueli Wang is an MA student a the Courtauld.

Made in China is on at Dulwich Picture gallery until 26 April, and the fake will be reveal 28 April 2015.

Whorled Explorations: Kochi Muziris Biennale 2014

Anish Kapoor’s Descension (2014) Photo: Kochi-Muziris Biennale

Anish Kapoor’s Descension (2014) Photo: Kochi-Muziris Biennale

Since 2012, the Kochi-Muziris Biennale has turned Fort Kochi, a vibrant town overlooking the Arabian Sea, into a pivotal location for India’s contemporary art scene. The 2014 Whorled Explorations Biennale, curated by artist Jitish Kallat, showcases the work of 94 artists from 30 countries. The eight venues include public spaces; warehouses facing the sea; and colonial heritage properties. Kochi, believed to coincide with the location of Muziris, an ancient port on the Silk Route, was occupied over the centuries as strategic trading site by the Portuguese, British, Dutch and Arab.

The curator aimed to use the town as a debate and observation platform to investigate the “mysterious expedition of planet Earth”. Between the 14th and 17th centuries Kerala’s School of Astronomy and Mathematics’ advanced practices investigated human existence within the infinite universe. In the “Age of Discovery” explorers and merchants, early agents of globalisation, stretched the then-known World’s boundaries, conquering and colonising. The exhibition interweaves “the bygone with the immanent, the terrestrial with the celestial”, combining these fascinating, current themes, starting from their history. The Biennale’s heterogeneous international and local audience is particularly striking: Fort Kochi’s history as a cultural meeting point revived as the town welcomes the contemporary art world.

Charles and Ray Eames’s Power of Ten (1977) Photo: Giulia Sartori Conte

Charles and Ray Eames’s Power of Ten (1977) Photo: Giulia Sartori Conte

Kallat’s ambitious conceptual framework is strengthened by the architecture and history of the buildings within which the exhibition unfolds; its themes are interlaced across venues, but also relate specifically to each heritage property’s history. Aspinwall House, a 19th-century warehouse established by an English trading company, hosts the majority of the artworks. The fascinating video work Power of Ten (1977) by Charles and Ray Eames opens the exhibition, addressing the limits of human perception and the vastness of the cosmos. Marie Velardi’s Future Perfect (2006) draws a map in time across the 21st Century, offering viewers a “memory of the future”. These pieces set binary oppositions which will be keys to interpret the whole festival.

Picture 5: Dinh Q. Lê’s Erasure (2011) Photo: Giulia Sartori Conte

Picture 5: Dinh Q. Lê’s Erasure (2011) Photo: Giulia Sartori Conte

The presence of elements recalling the conceptual framework’s celestial and journey-themed references is, at times, redundant. However, Aspinwall House’s display is engaging and permeated by evocative pieces. Effective example of the recurring theme of the whorl, Anish Kapoor’s water-vortex Descension (2014), destabilises viewers, recalling the fear of the unknown. The ship is interestingly used as a metaphor in Kahlil Rabah’s photo rendering Bioproduct (2010), depicting a Gaza Strip-shaped aircraft carrier, and in Dinh Q. Lê’s installation Erasure (2011), which narrates the forced displacement of Vietnamese people. Chen Chieh-jen’s Realm of Reverberations (2014) powerfully documents the lives and memories of former patients of a Taiwanese asylum, an attempt to resist collective amnesia. David Hall, former military accommodation and battlefield, houses conflict-themed impressive works; Rafael Lozano-Hemmer’s Pan-anthem (2014), an interactive installation, relates national identities and patriotism with military spending’s statistics.

The Biennale succeeds in tying together a diverse selection of thoughtful works. The exhibition encourages reflection on the topical theme of globalisation and its history, with an emphasis on Kochi’s local reality, confirming this Biennale as a spot-to-watch for the global contemporary art scene.

Giulia Sartori Conte is an MA student at the Courtauld.

The Kochi Biennial is open until March, 29th 2015.

John Golding: Finding the Absolute (Piano Nobile, Kings Place)

3The title of Piano Nobile’s current exhibition of John Golding’s 1960s abstract paintings is a nod to the artist’s seminal work in the field of art history, Paths to the Absolute, which brought together his A. W. Mellon Lectures in the Fine Arts series, given at Princeton in 1997. This rich yet accessible account analyses the deep spiritual quest taken by seven giants of twentieth-century abstract painting. Tracing the distinct journeys of each artist as they move from figuration to abstraction, Golding reveals that despite the differing methods and beliefs, these painters shared a common goal to attain an ‘absolute’ pictorial truth. For each of them, subliminal exploration and artistic experimentation were inextricable. Similarly, Golding’s painting also began in the world of figuration before moving gradually and thoughtfully through several abstract idioms. The works in ‘Finding the Absolute’ are significant in that they represent Golding’s earliest forays into the language of abstraction, a pursuit he would continue to develop and refine over the next three decades.

JOHN GOLDING Portman Square, 1965-66 Acrylic and oil on canvas 165.1 x 165.1 cm 65 x 65 in

Portman Square, 1965-66
Acrylic and oil on canvas
165.1 x 165.1 cm 65 x 65 in

Most of the works in the exhibition at Kings Place are on show for the first time in over forty years, yet they exude a freshness of spirit and maintain a thoughtful dialogue with the current revival of interest in abstract art. The paintings stand out as strong, lively statements in bold colour, yet they are characterised by a combination of complexity and multi-layered simplicity, as well as an attention to detail that demands closer looking—a practice that Golding also advocated in his formalist approach to art history. At first, the colours seem solid and opaque, but then the subtleties of their dappled surfaces begin to appear, offering a sense of atmospheric depth. The exhibition space is unique in that it allows the individual works to interact with each other across the large atrium and its adjoining hallways. Likewise, the hanging of the works animates a rhythmic energy of rebounding shapes and colours that goes hand in hand with the coinciding music programme of  ‘Minimalism Unwrapped’ at Kings Place.

Dr. Robert Travers, Dr. Charlotte de Mille, and Professor Paul Greenhalgh introducing ‘Finding the Absolute’ on Friday, 6th of February.

Dr. Robert Travers, Dr. Charlotte de Mille, and Professor Paul Greenhalgh introducing ‘Finding the Absolute’ on Friday, 6th of February.

Professor Paul Greenhalgh — current director of the Sainsbury Centre for Visual Art and former student of Golding — introduced the exhibition on Friday night, taking the opportunity to celebrate the Kings Place show, as well as to announce another exhibition centred on Golding opening at the SCVA this weekend. ‘Abstraction and the Art of John Golding’ draws from their impressive collection to present a diverse survey of the origins and development of abstract art at the beginning of the twentieth century alongside a selection of canvasses by Golding.

Although his overwhelming success in the field of art history often overshadows his work as a painter, it was on the latter that Golding based his career and for which he wished to be remembered. With these two shows, Golding’s painterly responses to the materials, methods, and monumentality of his objects of academic study take their places among the giants of the abstract painting that he described so eloquently.

Jenna Lundin is a PhD student at the Courtauld.

John Golding: Finding the Absolute is at Piano Nobile, Kings Place until 4 April, 2015

Black is the Color of My True Love’s Square

Kazimir Malevich, Black Quadrilateral, oil on canvas, 1917

Kazimir Malevich, Black Quadrilateral, oil on canvas, 1917

The Whitechapel Gallery has turned what might have been the Sisyphean curatorial endeavour (and tortuous viewing experience) of revisiting a century of geometric abstraction into a thoughtful, engaging exhibition. Adventures of the Black Square‘s greatest strength lies in its presentation of early-20th-century avant-garde art. This is because it avoids hagiography from the very beginning: greeting the visitor with a work smaller than an A4 sheet of paper, Malevich’s Black Quadilateral of 1915. The exhibition by no means denies the heroism of the Constructivists or Suprematists, but it is resolutely uninterested in re-telling a familiar story and instead chooses to let the pieces tell their own in an appropriately iconoclastic way.

Exhibition view that foregrounds Andrea Zittel's Bench (after Donald Judd)

Exhibition view that foregrounds Andrea Zittel’s Bench (after Donald Judd)

This is an exhibition that is interested not in grandstanding, but in education, as evidenced by the content-driven wall texts that accompany the pieces on display in the first part of the exhibition. These are informative and avoid making blanket ideological statements. Viewers are told, for example, that the Latvian artist Gustav Klutsis, whose striking 1922 designs for loudspeakers are included in the hang, participated in the October Revolution but was shot on Stalin’s orders in 1938. They are not, however, expected to acquiesce to platitudes, or make flash judgments of their own.

The international focus of the exhibition is also noteworthy. While on one hand, the curators’ decision to include not only lesser-known Europeans (ever heard of André Cadere, an itinerant Romanian artist who was best known in the 1970s European art community for leaving cylindrical wooden batons behind in the corners of other people’s exhibitions?), but also contemporaneous artists from present-day India, the United Arab Emirates, Lebanon, Pakistan. While this is admirable and long-overdue, here the exhibition could have used some more context. It opts for a generic tale of ‘alternate modernities’ where it could have told a compelling story about geopolitics. This story deserves a closer look, especially given the globalized scope of the second half of the exhibition.

André Cadere and a baton

André Cadere and a baton

The Whitechapel Gallery has devoted its whole second floor to a post-1969 continuation of the story of geometric abstraction. There is a certain amount of welcome leveling that happens on the second floor where, for example, an Israeli artist and a Palestinian counterpart are included on equal footing, and internationally-recognized art stars hang next to those only emerging or under-recognized. Some of this seems a bit facile, however, as when Social Practice artists and makers of high-priced baubles, sometimes on a social theme, Liam Gillick and Andrea Zittel are allowed to speak for the ‘reclamation’ of Constructivist ethos, or simply hasty. Perhaps it is because the way in which historiographers are still writing the late-20th century is too fraught with political tension that Adventures of the Black Square sidesteps specific references to international relations, contemporary economic practices, or even the entrenchment of the contemporary art world within the globalized economy. Here, however, the black square escapes its handlers.

Patricia Manos is an MA student at the Courtauld

Adventures of the Black Square: Abstract Art and Society 1915–2015 is at the Whitechapel Gallery until 6 April 2015.