Matching Curtains

Calling all Oxford-based art lovers ...

Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller have an intriguiging exhibition on at Modern Art Oxford which is a sensory and psychological treat. Called The House of Books Has No Windows, the exhibition features installations which immerse the viewer within the world each exhibition represents, with video, and visual objects and aural stimuli triggering memories, associations and emotions. Some of these are soothing or immediately captivating; others more disquieting - sometimes both! Opera for a Small Room managed to be both - the sounds of the train chugging away made me feel rather lonely, then the grief of the absent record collector invoked by the surroundings was comforted by the opera played on the record player inside the installation, which was made up like a small room which you viewed through a window.

Much of the exhibition was concerned with our relationship with the past and the fluidity of memory - I am sure that every visitor took away something different from the installations which was surely the point of such an inclusive show. One of my favourite pieces was the show's eponymous installation (see image below), commissioned by Modern Art Oxford and featuring a house about 5 foot high made entirely of books (around 5,000 apparently) with no windows and the book's spines facing outward. The world of the imagination, it suggested, needs no windows as you can let your mind wander when reading a book and build entirely new worlds from the words on the page. Compared to the more sound-oriented works, the house was in silence which added great impact. Being situated in the city of learning which Oxford represents lent the installation even more meaning and I loved its simplicity.

I loved the absorbing otherness of the works and the way they highlighted our relationship with history. Although each installation was different in its own way, each transported to me to a different place. The objects in the show The Dark Pool (the name alone suggests a focus on the unconscious memories of the viewers, and these were stirred gently and not unpleasantly) provoked a variety of feelings which were different in turn to what I experienced as I moved on to the next room. It was good to see sound being used in the spaces too - sound is very evocative of experiences past and having watched some of the interviews with the artists afterwards it's clear they respect this power. The show is only on until 18th January but I'd urge anyone in the Oxford area to check out the exhibition. It was a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon and totally stymied my pre-work/January blues. What greater recommendation could you need?

Meanwhile, back in the Southern Hemisphere ...

I blog today from the cosiness of my place in my tiny Oxfordshire village (well it's cosy inside), after having been dazzled by the metropolises of Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane and falling in love with the natural splendour of Northern Australia, which is most definitely the heart of the country in more ways than one. Alongside catching up with one of my bestest friends, which was just wonderful, Uluru was the holiday's other big highlight.

I thought I'd offer you a quick roundup of the trip before resuming normal service. What first hit me (other than the sun and the heat) was how big everything seemed; coming back to Oxford and the Cotswolds buildings seemed so dainty and doll-like! Melbourne was the first port of call and had a definite European flavour; I was really won over by it and particularly enjoyed Melbourne Zoo, shopping on Brunswick Street and wandering round St Kilda's streets and beach. Whilst there I even swallowed my misconceptions and in the spirit of holidaying, went to see Wicked at the Regent Theatre. Filmknitter will no doubt observe somewhat smugly that I thoroughly enjoyed it, despite my disparaging remarks about it a few years ago (hangs head - honestly, how could I?!).

From Melbourne to Sydney. Sydney's harbour and Opera House definitely had the wow factor. I love docklands areas generally,there's always such a mingled sense of melancholy and possibility about them. I also adored wandering around the superb Botanic Gardens (loved the fruitbats), but having not been blessed with great weather for some of the trip (my brolly literally snapped in two from the wind on the final day there), it was hard to venture as far afield as planned. One especially windy day we made it to one of Sydney's fantastic cinemas (dimly lit, ambient bars just off the entrance, arthouse fare on offer) just off from the Harbourside and caught Australia, as you'll have noted from my earlier blog. The symmetry of seeing it in the country it's about wasn't lost on me, as you will see from the picture below (couldn't resist) ...

The Art Gallery of New South Wales also hosted a thought-provoking exhibition on Black Australia called Half Light, which was very powerful and featured a range of different mediums. I also made an exciting new discovery there: Destiny Deacon, an indigenous Australian woman whose work deals with post-colonial politics and tackles stereotypes about what it is to be Aboriginal. I really liked what I saw, it was really challenging and confrontational. On a continuing cultural note (get me), when in Brisbane I paid a visit to it's Gallery of Modern Art, and saw an installation by the hyper-realist sculpter Ron Mueck (In Bed, see image taken from Flickr below) which I was very excited about as I've always been interested in his work. Seeing one of his creations for real really rammed home to me the true meaning of the word uncanny - I felt very strange and voyeuristic standing there looking at something so lifelike, almost like I was violating the space of the sculpture (this in spite of its size and, well, unrealness). In Bed, as with all Mueck's work, definitely raises lots of interesting questions about the physicality of what it is to view art and is a very creepy experience. Fresh from Wikipedia, I can also tell film-fans reading this that he's been a model maker and pupeteer for kid's TV and movies, including Labyrinth and The Storyteller. So there you go! Who knows when that might crop up in a pub quiz?!

And now for Uluru, Kata Tjuta and the breathtaking landscapes of northern Australia. Wonderful. If I were less of a wimpish Pom I would love to live out there - the tenacity and rawness of the landscape appealed to me like nothing before has: there's a magic about the place which you breathe from the moment you step off the plane. And lots of mosquitos, as my legs will testify. And that's why I am what our antipodean cousins would call a whinging Pom. Seriously though - I can't recommend the Northern Territory and Ayers Rock Resort enough. There is a soulfulness about the country there and you can really see why Uluru is sacred to the Aboriginal people. It was amazing to learn more about Australia's indigenous culture, a culture which has endured despite the disgusting treatment it received at the hands of white settlers and a culture which is Australia's true heart and history. I can say no more but just add this picture, which does more than any words.

Cranky

I'm ill, I can't breathe through my nose and my good ear keeps intermittently popping so everything sounds like it's coming through a duvet. I've had to cancel all my social plans for the week because I am so blinking poorly. If I miss Truck Festival (a wonderful local music festival and not an opportunity to catch lots of truck drivers have fun whilst discussing chassis and the like), I will not be amused.

In the absence of having anything to say for myself other than grumble (cough) grumble (splutter-sneeze), read this new interview with one of my heroes Tracey Emin, published in The Times today. An honest interview with one of our most dynamic creative forces who - even if you don't like her art - is someone whose determination and conviction must be admired.

Frida: The Biography of Frida Kahlo, by Hayden Herrera

As I documented earlier on this blog, I have been reading a biography of one of my heroes, Frida Kahlo. I wanted to say a few words on this book as I think it's one of the best, most meticulously researched biographies I've ever read. Herrera captures Frida's indomitable spirit by making use of the incredible access she had to her writings, letters, diaries and interviews as well as accounts given by close friends and family. Through her diaries and letters, Frida's powerful personality came through as strongly in this book as it does through her art and the story of her life really moved me; I felt a great loss when I finally finished reading. By using such material, Herrera enabled me to feel as though I was living amongst her wonderful subjects.

Frida's life was one in which she constantly battled against many obstacles; from childhood polio to a bus accident as a teenager which left her with injuries so severe they dogged her for the rest of her life, suffering huge amounts of surgery on her spine and being subjected to a number of treatments which left her in great pain for long periods of time and impeded her ability to have a child. However, the colour and vitality of her life and art shines through. From the Tehuana dresses Frida wore which symbolised her Mexican roots and helped to conceal her troubled leg, to her raucous, passionate and strong character, we are treated to a vivid account of an attractive and unique woman who was a force to be reckoned with. She was an individual who had little truck with invalidism and defied her physical suffering time and time again, embracing life and subverting expectations through her behaviour and her art. Frida's dark humour is often present in her art and so it is through this book - some of the recorded comments she gave elicited grins as I read, just as the darker moments in her life left me full of admiration for her for getting through them.

Frida's turbulent relationship with her husband Diego Rivera, whom she divorced once and married twice, and her other affairs (including one with Trotsky) and close friendships, are explored in great detail and make for a dramatic and insightful read. She and Diego Rivera's relationship was a deeply complex and unusual one; they seemed to have an inexplicable bond which caused her as much pain as it did happiness, and his womanising existed alongside their own union. Frida herself also had affairs with men and women. Diego would often regale her with anecdotes of his own amorous adventures(!) whilst Frida would befriend some of his mistresses. Diego's affair with Frida's sister Christina was one which, understandably, caused Frida the greatest hurt, and the impact this had on Frida is addressed in paintings like 'A Few Small Nips' and 'Memory'. As well as her physical suffering and romantic life, Frida's politics and involvement with communism are also explored, shedding fascinating light on the situation of Mexico at the time. The references in her art to pre-Columbian culture are explained in a lively manner well-befitting Frida's work and taught me a lot about the kind of tropes she employed to express herself through her painting. This is especially interesting when discussing how some of her work was co-opted by the Surrealist movement and how Frida herself viewed this.

Frida's powerful and emotive paintings are given space in the book in some fantastic colour plate sections that are referenced throughout in Herrera's descriptions/analyses of Frida's work. Frida's painting was preoccupied with fertilty, sex, love and death and their relation to their creator and nature. This book details how Frida's life informed her art in what is, ultimately, an enthralling account of a remarkable and inspiring woman. I highly recommend this biography; it is a celebration of Frida's achievements as an individual and an artist and her story inspires and moves me in equal measure.

Heroes

No, not the popular sci show. Although it is good.

I actually refer to Frida Kahlo - a truly inspiring artist. I'm currently reading a book by Hayden Herrera about Frida and it has served to increase the love and admiration I have for her. She was so strong, unique and talented; her life was just incredible and her work carries great emotional force for me. Along with Tracey Emin she's the only artist to have made me cry in a gallery. Like Emin, she was an adept self-publicist who presented the female experience honestly and unflinchingly and her legacy is true testament to her work. I REALLY want to go to Mexico and see the Blue House where she lived, to experience the culture she grew up in and which informed so much of her art.

Banksy

So I was scouring the BBC website and came across this. Banksy is losing some of the cache he used to have, but the stuff he puts out is always interesting and topical. This is no exception. I also love that he is getting art out on the streets and provoking conversation in an inclusive way that gallery based work - sometimes viewed with the same cynicism as his renegade graffiti etc - will never be able to do.