Upcoming event at Gorey School of Art, participants include Art in the Contemporary World coordinator Dr. Francis Halsall
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The following response by Barry Kehoe was commissioned by the artists on the NCAD Masters Fine Art and Masters Art in the Digital World (MFA/ADW) during their graduate show that took place in June 2014.
“…distance ceases to be distance and to be blue when we arrive in it. The far becomes the near and they are not the same place” (Rebecca Solnit, The Blue of Distance)
In what could either be “marketing speak” hubris, or more hopefully, an example of sardonic wit, the overarching title chosen for the graduate shows in NCAD is “see the future.” In our contemporary moment of failed, teleological, utopian ideologies this statement and invitation seems to be terribly ironic. However, if it is possible to embrace the statement with a suspension of disbelief, evading the hollow marketing strategy, it presents a more intriguing opportunity to find a position in relation to the possibility of a future through experiencing the art objects of the present exhibition that are born from a specific, sited perspective that is both social and personal.
To see the future is to take a position in the present and look outward toward a distant horizon. It is an unattainable horizon, for in the journey to breach that distance the very thing that is called the future becomes pushed further ahead to another distant place that is ever approaching but never arrived at. As is so often the case in human experience, the perspective upon the horizon that holds the elusive future becomes reduced to a single point, an aperture contingent with a single goal. The future becomes that beacon of light in a field of darkness, the source of light that carries all of human hope. That beacon of light is a strange and untameable beast. To take a position in relation to that horizon, the elusive future, that very real limit of human perspective, is also to establish a point of origin from where to begin a journey. This point of origin, this place of beginning, like a site at the centre from which to navigate a maze must be found before a journey into the unknown can begin. With the image of a blue rabbit as an unlikely starting point we are already late and in a terrible hurry, but unlike Alice in wonderland who awoke in the light and descended down the rabbit hole we are awoken in the darkness and begin deep within the rabbit hole seeking a path to that elusive light of the future, through the maze of the present.
In the darkness of an inner world, in the womb of the underworld, is born the life that through observance brings the universe into existence. This is where the search for the future begins, in a darkened room in the core of an exhibition, at the centre of a maze of cubicles in the abandoned bureaucratic infrastructure of Emmet House on Thomas Street, a building that has fallen out of usefulness, abandoned in the wake of the economic progress of the city around it. Here, in the abandoned spaces of past failures, the future, like an elusive mythical beast, stalks the reawakened spaces of the labyrinthine exhibition. It is like the entity decrying the future world in W.B. Yeats’ poem The Second Coming:
“What rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born.”
Irene Whyte 2014
Deep in the heart of the building, between the ground and second floor in a windowless and darkened space, Irene Whyte has presented a projection that is neither wholly in the room where the observer stands beside the mini projector nor completely sited in another space observed through a pane of glass in another darkened chamber. This inner room, beyond the glass, cannot be accessed. The door handle lies upon the floor. Any attempt to get closer, to try and clarify what is being observed is frustratingly thwarted. The projected image is like an obstetric sonogram pulsating moving within its confinement. It is also reflected back by the glass, enlarged and diffused it fills the opposite wall immersing the observer. It is an image of high contrast, abstracted and mirrored in itself. The imagination gives this compressed reflected image form. It could be a body, perhaps a face, and arms, reflected, merging, growing and shrinking. It appears as an organ pulsating suspended in space. The sound emitting from the mini projector is like dripping water echoing in a cavernous space. The sense is one of frustration and claustrophobia but the echoing sound defies the logic of the small box-like space. The projection through the glass and its reflection create multiple barriers and horizons, inaccessible and at the same time uncontained. The compartment will not allow the resolution of a single point of perspective. This inner womb becomes a metaphor for the unknown, the site before a point of origin. The chambers that open up from the cavern of this pulsating organ are like the elements of a body, a living entity or a brain full of thoughts experiences and feelings each contained separately in the frame of bureaucratic utility that is Emmet house. Each space of exhibition revealing a diversity of experience and perspective, each door opening like a new aperture through which a new vista and a new horizon presents itself.
Ann Marie Webb 2014
Moving into the next chamber, with a vista out onto Thomas Street, Ann Marie Webb’s paintings are large and physical. They are unframed and so present their edges as the limits of the organic line where the edge of the canvas sits upon the wall. As the eye reads across the works the movement of the marks present central zones of space within in the painting. There is an illusion of depth, like looking into the centre of a vortex or the eye of a storm. The place of refuge for the eye in the maelstrom is challenged by a smaller work called Nocturne where this central zone in dominated by a solid dark mark flattening the central zone of refuge. Calmer than the surrounding movement its darkness seems to threaten. It is hard to find the idea of the horizontal or the horizon in these painting with the frenetic movement of the marks. The contrast between the flatness of the dark mark in Nocturn and the depth into which it is possible to peer without finding that limit or edge of perspective is unsettling.
Jane Locke 2014
Progressing to an antechamber there is an office dominated by archival information and artefacts presenting evidence of past events. These artefacts illustrate a body of experience accumulated through the immersive art practice of Jane Locke. The evidence is presented of three specific art projects where she became imbedded in the infrastructure of large institutions with an overarching title The Cloud of Unknowing. Surprisingly this is the location of the blue rabbit. There is a peculiar familiarity about the presentation of the space. The installation has re-imagined the office space as an office, but not a normal office. It would be a peculiar and strange thing to find a blue rabbit in an average office space. Like an anthropologist on an in depth study Jane Locke has been sneaking into the public or shared spaces in offices and laboratories after hours. She has been observing the people there and in return observing their observance of her activities, while making her interventions, ephemeral artworks, performances as she gathers and collates the information of her interruptions of the institutional experience. She appears as a central piece of this artwork and invites the visitor to a lecture where the accumulated experiences of several of her investigations become imaginatively destabilized in a narrative where plants physically sigh, rabbits turn blue, barristers whose gowns billow in the wind are strangely connected to dark molecules as they vanish down mysterious tunnels under the city and scientists are irrevocably transformed by their own experiments. Divining the difference between truth and fiction becomes impossible. With the theatrics of her performance comes a suspension of disbelief. Her engagement with the institutional performativity in the various sites of investigation pushes that suspension into a willingness to believe. The thought that it could be possible to witness plants visibly sighing when they change their energy cycle was beautiful and completely untrue. With so much disappointment in the truth, the desire to embrace the fantasy is overwhelming.
Margot Galvin 2014
Emerging out onto the corridor in pursuit of the elusive presence of the future it is the past that looms into sight again in the work of Margot Galvin. Beautifully rendered prints on metal and botanical style drawings of organic tendrils, like the tangles of bladder rack that wash up along a shore line, are infused with post-industrial landscapes. She quotes the philosopher Edward Casey in her artist statement referencing origins and the importance of location and geographic specificity in how we understand our place in the world. Interestingly she emphasizes this idea of origin by presenting her works beside spot lit, nest like structures that reflect the structure of the large drawings. The idea of home is explored through the nostalgia of decayed industrial sites. Places are recognisable as abandoned industrial sites but they are not named or specifically located. The images are gathered through a process of walking. The act of walking through a city is a demonstration of what Edmund Husserl calls “a total organism.” Paul Connerton puts it nicely in his book How Modernity Forgets: “Walking is at once an act of organic self-unification, and an act which builds up for me a coherent environment….for Husserl the activity of walking precipitates the authentic integration of the subject.” This is an example of how the locating of origin as an historic marker is necessary to conceive of or to envision the possibility of the future. By locating a coherent narrative in the past that traces a journey to the present, it becomes possible to imagine the future as a continuation of that tracing. There is a danger however that the pursuit of the nostalgic source of origin could create an emotional trap where, stuck somewhere in the past, it becomes impossible to see beyond the horizon of the decaying structures that we have come crashing down around obscuring the horizon of the future with the debris of the present.
Aileen Drohan 2014
The impossible measurement of time becomes central in the work of Aileen Drohan. Her work in the exhibition is developed from performances involving CCTV footage that is streamed and accessible on the internet. By placing herself intentionally in the images she is actively creating a situation that interferes with the automated gathering of observational data. Through the process of making and gathering the records of her interferences she has discovered something peculiar about the spatialisation of time, the scientific recording of time in precise units of measurement. The problem with time is one of relativity. Henri-Louis Bergson (1859 –1941) redefined the modern conceptions of time, space, and causality in his theory of “Duration.” For Bergson, time as it is experienced cannot be measured by science or mathematics. In looking at the experience of time versus the recording of time he states: “We give a mechanical explanation of a fact and then substitute the explanation for the fact itself.” What becomes fascinating in the artist’s photo stills and the systemic recording of the world through surveillance is how it reveals that each camera and data recording device are not synchronized. Each one records time differently with incorrect hours, days, dates. As an attempt at representing reality or recoding a truthful interpretation of the world the system is flawed. In the video work that presents a bank of images from a non-descript set of motorway traffic cameras she has removed the specific data of the time codes, unconcerned in this instance with this documentation, she allows the time-lapse footage to play out, simply revealing a world of strange phenomena. As rain descends and cars drive by during the night only the glow of the lights are visible like spectres moving through the darkness. Silent and eerie this strange behaviour is being recorded and broadcast continually by an automated system. Why and for whom? The CCTV presents an immanence of an ever present, a timeless, ahistorical place where the idea of a future is perhaps unknowable if not impossible.
John Murphy 2014
John Murphy presents two video works. In one he has taken footage during the course of moving through a deserted street at night and in the other he shows static video images of an empty house, revealing the world through video devoid of the human presence. However he uses sound tracks to create a tension between presence and absence. A confessional narrative with ambient music plays over a car driving through the city at night, creating a dramatic story full of menace and the tragedy of a very human story of loss. The empty domestic interior is like a Marie Celeste, uncanny in the moment of sudden abandonment. The evidence of life and the humans that inhabit it are still present as traces. He overplays the sound of a Christmas morning creating a harrowing tension between the still spaces and the frenetic sounds of Christmas parcels being unwrapped. There is something unbearable in the contrast between the presence and absence. There is the constant reminder, that somewhere in the future, all things that have an origin inevitably will have an end. This is something that is unbearable in the mind of the living being.
Denis Kelly 2014
Denis Kelly’s work in the corner room at the back of the building are a mixture between paintings and small sculptural objects developed from a fascination with dead spaces found in the architecture of a building such as locations under stairs or acute angles, what Germans refer to as dead corners. He explores these spaces and the geometric shapes they produce to examine the tensions created by opposing and contradictory elements – figure/ground, control/chance, construction/destruction, and revelation/concealment. These dead spaces reveal something of the inevitable unpredictable elements of an architectural structure. These elements of waste or surplus occur where other elements designed with a particular utility such as a staircase or supporting pillar come together for practical reasons and the result is a space that serves no purpose and cannot be practically utilized. To explore these elements through painting exposes the tensions found between the intentional and the unintentional. The planning and the execution of any project that inevitably falls under the influence of chance. The paintings that at first look like quiet geometric and rational exercises reveal incidental bleeds of paint that come due to the influence of the supports, raw pieces of wood, found objects that are in themselves surplus elements of a building’s construction. The installation of the work incorporates an awareness of the elements of the cable trunking and electrical sockets on the walls even the windows look out onto the upper stories of adjacent buildings that reflect the shapes in the paintings particularly when the sharp sunlight casts rigid diagonal shadows across the grey plaster of the building next door. In such minimal and rigidly geometric work every element holds a significance no matter how miniscule, from colour to form and substance. As in the spaces of habitation where we locate ourselves, the more aware we are of the intricacies of the horizon and the limits of perception the better equipped we are to plot our onward journey and our escape from the labyrinth of the present.
Lesley-Ann O’Connell 2014
Lesley-Ann O’Connell’s paintings offer up a very different experience. These works also explore something of the interiors of rooms and buildings, they are views onto contained spaces abstracted but with depth and unintelligible perspective. They are the opposite of the rationality explored in Denis Kelly’s work. The durational aspect of observing, translating and abstracting is a process towards realising an essence of that experience of space. There is an expression of the aura or presence of that space. It is perhaps linked to the uncanny but not completely, as the sensation that a spatial awareness gives need not be discomforting. It can even be reassuring to know the dimensions of a space and experience the familiar behaviour of the air in a container where it is possible to be alone within a reflexive self-presence. It’s a space where even the air pressure of the room behaves and is felt in a familiar way, when alone within the particular set of dimensions. The paintings feel domestic in a peculiar way and are inhabited by the solitary gaze of the viewer. One work in particular may help the cause of seeking out this strange beast called the future, that elusive inhabitant of the labyrinth of exhibition. The work titled Old Time/New Time highlights the durational awareness within the paintings where present and past coalesce. There is a feeling of delayed time in the painting, a distilled period that is renewed on every viewing. It presents our first clue towards the artefact of the future.
Caroline Patten 2014
Caroline Patten presented a series of paintings that explore relationships between marks, ground and the flattening of space. In particular the title of a work called Courtesans reveals the marks as characters or personalities that playfully interact in the limbo of an undefined word of blank untreated canvas. Curiously these personalities also manifest themselves as two small three dimensional figures. These paintings are full of interactive entities gathered at some colourful occasion and spread out to fill the space of the canvass. It is an imagined regal space placing the viewer in a timeless position that pushes the notion of the temporal away from the future and conjures up thoughts of the past, thus confusing the immediate perspective of the present. There is no horizon within the works, the space the characters inhabit though undefined allows no perspective to a distant limit. It is an unknown location.
Atoosa Pour Hosseini 2014
Atoosa Pour Hosseini’s work Last Phase (2014) explores the horizon of a sea scape, the distant blue where sky and sea meet and the limitations of being one thing are another, sea or sky become confused by the diffusion of light. It is a video work where a small dark figure half submerged vanishes into a light-drenched ocean as the camera submerges and re-emerges from the claustrophobic waters. Importantly we get a glimpse of a coast line just for a second, a distant set of bleached hills far, far away. Formally the work plays with our ability to define this horizon as it is projected onto a translucent cloth so the image appears twice in two different scales, once on the cloth and again on the wall behind. There is also another textile, a dark cloth normally used for binding two pieces of textile together that interferes with the larger image on the back wall. This cloth creates another horizon line, an interference with the image that can be seen through the nearer projected image. The smaller piece of translucent cloth that first catches the projected image also has a thick grey bar across the top of the cloth keeping it rigid that also forms another horizon. The projection itself is creating its own shadows and so forms more horizon lines. The room becomes a series of horizons brought to life by the shadows that the projection generates. The ability to form a single point of perspective becomes troubled. The scene feels quite melancholic and the disappearance of the character is a narrative that is as unresolved as the attempt to define a true horizon. To sum up this peculiarity of distance and horizon it’s helpful to quote Rebecca Solnit who describes this blue of distance in her book A Field Guide to Getting Lost:
“…the blue at the horizon, the blue of land that seems to be dissolving into the sky, is a deeper, dreamier, melancholy blue, the blue at the farthest reaches of the places where you see for miles, the blue of distance. This light that does not touch us, does not travel the whole distance, the light that gets lost, gives us the beauty of the world, so much of which is in the colour blue.”
Chloe Brenan 2014
Ascending to the next floor via the staircase, a transitional space, brings the visitor to the highest limits of the exhibition and to the work of Chloe Brenan. An obsessional action of perforating paper with a pin has resulted in a series of words half indented and half embossed that are barely perceptible until a hard light is shone across the surface. The hard shadows produced reveal the subtle marks. The paper upon which the words have been punctured, lit from above, create dark waves of black shadows under the pages. Each aperture is a hole, a porous access point for light. The nature of light and the reception of that light becomes evident when we experience the peculiar effect of the pinhole camera. The world of image is an inverted one and yet through our optical receptors we rearrange that perspective to suit our own human perspective. The pinhole camera reveals how much we manipulate the phenomenon of light, translating it to suit a universe of a human dimension. Negative and positive images of a transitional space, a heavily decorated hallway are pinned to the adjacent wall stepping the viewer’s eyes down toward a floor projection, filmed through camera-obscura, of footage from a pinhole camera. It is a descent, resembling the process of vision itself, which takes the viewer from the pinhole aperture to the transitional space of a hallway to the projection of what looks almost like an eye, a blurred image with a dark centre and a lighter corona. The perforated paper upon close inspection looks almost like the pores of human skin, a reminder of how porous we are as beings. We experience light as it flows through our bodies, enters our eyes, is absorbed and reflected by our skin, in a state of constant ebb and flow. Chloe Brenan’s work emphasizes the essential power of our porous nature. The apertures that perforate the human body, defy the limitations of the hermetic or solipsistic consciousness, creating a possibility for the transition and translation of the phenomenon of light into the experience of a being fully integrated into a greater cosmos of infinite possibility.
Ulla Juske 2014
Ulla Juske has installed a small cabinet of curiosities, a collection of tiny imagined worlds trapped in little boxes. Viewed through magnifying lenses, the Lilliputian worlds expand to fill the field of vision. They are compact, claustrophobic spaces, a metaphoric model for the building in which the entire exhibition stands. She has constructed a shelving system to display each little camera that sits in the centre of the room that coincidentally echoes the collection of asymmetric windows of the building across the street. She has kept the institutional colour scheme of the original office a deep sea green that adds to the atmosphere of a museum of curiosities. Like tales of mythology and fables the dark green lends a sense of gravity to the tales that have all come from the real world. There is a strange tension in the tales for which these little worlds have been constructed. They are accompanied by beautiful illustrated pages with descriptive captions that line the wall of the room. These wild tales of weird and wonderful stories were all gathered from internet news feeds giving power to the adage that: “the truth is often stranger than fiction.” They are a collection of the freak stories that accompany the serious news feeds that appear on digests on various media websites. The really weird thing is that they are regarded as news items of equal value to the serious business of war, crime and politics. By taking these fringe items, illustrating them and displaying them like a collection of Grimm’s fairy tales, the absurdity of how the media relates information and the validity of that information is revealed as a spectacle that calls all news media into question. Quite often the internet is considered an expansive and open source for engaging with the world through a virtual interface but the artwork of Ulla Juske makes clear how very small the picture of the world is we see through the lens of the internet.
Ann Jenkinson 2014
The paintings of Ann Jenkinson mix figuration and abstraction, the collection of works on show form a curious group, some with identifiable elements and others that appear only as movements of colour completely devoid of figuration. The mixture of movement and stillness makes for an awkward tension. The works are presented under the title: “Displacement” and she quotes German painter Magnus Plessen who writes about this abstraction in painting that moves away from figuration but does not completely abandon representation. He calls this “a layer beyond.” In this idea of perceptive layers, and layers of experience and understanding, even in layers of paint, the horizon we have to deal with is something that is beyond. It is removed, other, distant, a place that is not quite known. This is perhaps what displacement means when formally looking at a methodology that is not quite located in one type of painting practice or another but also the life experience of the painter is imbedded in the work. The paintings are also an expression of the experience that the painter has had with humanitarian displacement. Years of working in the developing world has brought a very tangible experience of what is meant by the term displacement. There is a very striking painting of what appears to be stretched tarpaulin or tents in a dull, muddy, morning light. The image is not populated by figures and as a result has a quality of stillness. It evokes the displacement of people in faraway places that are ravaged by the catastrophe of war or famine, living in fear and stalked by the threat of violence and annihilation. The painter who has experienced the calamity of displacement, by finding themselves in these troubled locations, is also a displaced entity. The works in the exhibition draw very much from this past experience of the displacement of entire populations in troubled zones all over the developing world, an experience that seems to be destined to repeat, and repeat, and repeat. The repetition of violence and social injustice, as experienced in the developing world, seems destined to continue into the future and stands as a contrast to the stillness of the layers of paint showing these trapped moments, structured from accumulated time and experience. Perhaps only these paintings can offer a way out of this cycle and give a glimpse of a future somewhere “beyond” fear and violence.
Patrick Curran 2014
Patrick Curran paints scenes from the street, episodes from a damaged history, narratives of trauma and misplaced inspiration. The supports for his paintings are recycled book covers clued and stitched together to form canvases. The images erupt like illustrations or imagined images that could be conjured from a story in a book, with a strange mixture of Wild West cowboys that tower like ghosts over scenes of anti-social behaviour and emergency workers and police going about their duties helping distressed and collapsed people. There are peculiar tensions here between the romantic notions of the American wild west, that place in the late twentieth century imagination that mixed the anarchic concept of freedom with uncivilised levels of social violence, and the contemporary streets of Ireland that are supposedly free and civilised but become the locations of a violence that is very far from the romantic notion of the cowboy. In the exhibition, a small children’s desk has been placed in the centre of a large room, surrounded by these images painted on the book covers. It eerily creates a presence or rather an absence. Many of the books could be instructional or educational. A wise teacher once said: “If you want to live other lives read books.” The installation points towards a site of pedagogy, a place of learning where books are the source of knowledge as well as imaginative escape. Books evoke worlds of their own, worlds that are never completely like the world of Pat Curran’s paintings, worlds that never have to cope with real violence. Civilisation that is founded on knowledge and learning is unwinding in Curran’s paintings as the book covers become sites for these images, the pages no longer accessible, the knowledge lost. What can the future hold for a world plagued by these images of violence where the book, the route to learning and transformation, has itself become denuded of its educational capacity, hollowed out, reduced to nothing more than a collection of covers that act as sites for a contemporary romance with the spectacle of street violence?
Therese Maher has produced a beautiful series of prints following the anthropomorphic tale of Rat a character who has a very violent demise. After a series of scenes he is rushed on a gurney to some form of a medical operation where eventually he appears as a dissected corpse as if a part of a biology experiment. The world of Rat illustrates a dark world where human catastrophe and tragedy are played out in a jaundiced “wind in the willows.” These adventure of Ratty and his chums are not as pleasant as mucking about in boats along the riverbank. The urban protagonist of these illustrations is a beast, a foul manifestation of the human beast in an animal form. Using animals to depict a human story is an ancient practice and can be an effective way of portraying subjects that are taboo, subjects that would be unacceptable if the central protagonist was a human being. The use of anthropomorphism reveals, through the imagination, the liberating transformative property of the animal. Allowing the beast within to manifest itself can be an empowering experience. As the future begins to manifest itself through the transformation of the present, the exhibition becomes the liminal space. It exists on the cusp of that transformation toward either light or darkness, toward the beast or the beautiful.
Sylvia Callan explores the curious patterns made by an exploding balloon. She creates a tautological tension by projecting the event upon a similar balloon suspended in a small dark chamber. For what seems like an eternity a flame dances below a balloon until it finally explodes sending debris flying in all directions, moving in slow motion. It floats across the surface of the suspended balloon, gracefully dancing in a movement that is an expression of causality. Eventually the loop returns the form of the balloon so it can repeat its destruction again, and again and again. There is an expectation that is known about cause and effect. This expectation is a type of foresight. There are predictable patterns that develop from specific actions and yet there is the chaos of the unpredictable that can erupt at any given moment creating unexpected variations. It is an ancient philosophical question of whether the universe is determined or random. If the future could be extrapolated excluding all variables then foresight could be possible. The beast that is the future could be known, but unlike a looping video the universe may not be readable like the tea leaves at the bottom of a cup. In another room we are presented with just this conundrum. The way tea leaves settle in the bottom of a cup may be seen as the random distribution of elements, dried organic leaves that become rehydrated by freshly boiled water, swept into a flurry by the pouring out of the kettle and finally coming to rest at the bottom of the cup. With a statistical probability it may be possible to predict these patterns to a degree, however quantum physics has revealed that the behaviour and result of any controlled experiment is tainted by the act of observation. So what of an ability to see the future in the tea leaves? Can we predict with prescient clarity the events or outcomes of a day by observing the tea leaves in a person’s cup. Sylvia Callan presents several variations in cups distributed across the floor of a room. It appears like a scientific experiment, full of repetition with a video playing on a small monitor gives us the perspective of a tea cup with tea leaves from below. Tea is where people turn for a moment of pause. Drinking tea is a calming ritual in times of trauma. As a device for determining the course of the universe can it be trusted? Perhaps it is better not to know the future, no matter how much desire there is to face down the elusive beast, especially through something as miniscule and random as the dregs of tea leaves at the bottom of a tea cup.
Eventually the staircase provides the conduit to the ground floor and the last space of exposure the last location to search for the fugitive figure, the intangible beast. A maquette stands at the base of the stairs, it is the work of Paul Terry. A larger version stands in the courtyard of the art college like a giant mechano kit. The sculpture is a structure of two rectilinear frames connected by transverse tensile chords of two different colours that form a tunnel linking the two separate forms. The space between these rigid constructions becomes annexed by the chords that look like the demonstration of a wormhole, an inter-dimensional conduit in space, a model of an “Einstein-Rosen Bridge” that offers the theoretical possibility to travel great distances through time and space. It could be a tantalising visualisation of a scientific promise to transform the universe and improve it for the human inhabitants. A possibility of seeing the future or returning to the past to perhaps create an alternative present, though very seductive, is fraught with danger. As with the gift of foresight there is always the curse of coming to know things that are better left unknown. If the future exists perhaps it cannot be changed and all the horrible things that will come to pass, the tragedy, terror and death that resides there is best left in the future. A bridge to be crossed at a later date.
Raine Hozier Byrne 2014
An end of year graduate art exhibition carries with it the expectation of the artist who have been working towards this moment. The exhibition is an example of a future past as it has been worked towards over the past years of study, but even with this goal in sight over the period of research the outcome is not always predictable. Raine Hozier Byrne’s paintings have come from the trauma of personal loss and were a complete departure from her inquiry of study as she was coming to terms with the death of her parents. Her large scale paintings explore loss and the personal grief that she has experienced. A large diptych in the hall way splits a landscape showing a lake and distant mountains. The dominant hue is blue, the colour of distance and those far away shores of longing. There is an evident gap as the waters of the lake beside the shoreline in the foreground are disturbed and ripple out into both of the paintings from the gaping void in between. The texture of the work is also rippled by the infusion of issue paper onto the surface of the canvas. Tissues, very like those that absorbed the tears of sadness and loss, become part of the fabric of a therapeutic working through of an inner necessity. The void that separates the two canvasses is a space that awaits all who seek the future. It is the unknowable beast that all that live must face.
Elizabeth Archbold 2014
Across the hallway the large ground floor room of Emmet house is dominated by paintings. In the first space at the front of the building is the work of Elizabeth Archbold. Her paintings emerge as meditations on the process of making paintings, making new observations or continuing a process that comes from a previous painting. She strikingly has limited her palette of colours to those employed by Eugene Delacroix after Peter Paul Rubens in modelling the transparent surface of water drops. This limitation imposed upon the work by the artist creates a formal tension in the paintings controlling the various permutations that are possible with using a simplified colour palette of green, yellow, white and red. The catalyst for the constant reinvention and improvisation must then come in the artist’s manipulation of these limitations. Each new permutation of the painting process that explores the limited colour vocabulary forms new horizons and new perspectives, taking the works as markers in a journey toward an exploration of form and gesture through the most personal of intuitive choices. This way of working, through a process of limitation, is concerned with developing a way of making over a period of time where the work develops through outcomes from present choices that are always rooted in the future.
Darina Meagher 2014
The paintings of Darina Meagher on the other hand are looking for ways of making that do not emerge from previous histories of painting. Turning toward the internet as a point of origin she seeks to make images inspired by non-painting sources, attempting to counter what she sees as the perfection of the technological image by reproducing an essence of these images through the imperfection of the brush stroke made by the human hand. She uses the idea of the internet search engine to explore the apparently endless streams of image and text that the internet provides. She terms this endless stream of image and data as the “debris of other peoples’ lives.” It is possible to imagine that a search for the top 10 emotions in the top 10 cities of the world would produce an endless stream of ideas, experiences, stories and locations but curiously, it returns a result that is a lot more limited than expected. The internet is a very flawed viewer onto the world and has an exceptionally limited scope and variety. The blue of distance, the spatial and temporal horizon that fuels longing, desire and imagination is flattened on an LCD screen with limited perspective. Statistically the largest amount of internet media content is generated in specific centres of the western world and so the stories and locations tend to be quite limited. Also the internet search engines work off algorithms that for various contingencies limit the search results. It is far from being a free system and is certainly less random than might be believed. The paintings that result from these internet explorations have the possibility of breaking that limitation of the search image by distilling it through a more intimate human experience that stems from the reality of an unbounded human consciousness frustrated with the view of the world through the tiny aperture provided by the internet.
Joan Coen 2014
The paintings of Joan Coen also explore image with a limited vocabulary. She brings a heightened level of emotion to the way she uses paint, channelling an emotive energy drawn from the subject that she is working with. In this case she presents an array of small paintings, each a meditation on the same object altering the brush strokes and hues. Each painting is a spatialized counter in a durational exploration with a singular focus. By working through this repetition the specific nature of the object ceases to be important when the viewer is presented with a multiplicity of views to choose from. Each nuance and alteration, as the eye moves from one work to the next, highlights the power of paint as a medium through which to meditate and engage with the experience of the object. The multiple reproduction of the same painting also reveals how the unique action of the brush stroke and colour choice produces a sense of the aura in an artwork. Each action is a unique action no matter how often it is repeated. The paintings are an analogue expression of a focused activity. They become the indexical markers of time spent in communication with an observed object. The presence of that objet is palpable, felt through the artist’s manipulation of the pigment on the support. It is interesting to compare this idea of painting as the evidence of a performative action when turning to the next work in the large ground floor space of Emmet House
Paola Catizone 2014
Past the paintings a collection of elegant white dresses hang upon a rail, curiously one of them has been stained black. There are large sheets of paper on the floor, one of them has a mound of dark pigment placed in the centre of its expansive white field. An image of a woman is projected upon the wall behind the paper sheets. She is dressed in one of the white gowns. In the video she walks barefoot onto the paper and begins to manipulate the mound of dark pigment pushing it all over the surface of the paper, her clothing touching the entire surface, every inch of her body, off the pigment. She is painting with her body and simultaneously painting onto her body exploring the entire surface of the body with the pigment. This performance by Paola Catizone stems from a dance of exploration where the skin as the outer bodily boundary, makes contact with another surface. It playfully explores the somatic limitations of the body. It is also a celebration of the body itself. For the performer it is an exercise in the centring of the self in the body, exploring the extremities and limits of the form, the phenomenological horizon through the physical sense of touch. With this in mind it is extraordinary then to attend a live performance of this dance. Witnessing the performance of the body in space is an entirely different experience. The sound of the movement, the physical weight of the body as it orientates and gesticulates through various position. In the flesh the body doesn’t appear as limited as in the video. In three dimensions the relationship between the bodies of the spectators actively witnessing the event come into play. The audience becomes another entity in the action of the performer. There is an energy in the performance, in the inter-relationship of the participant and performer that cannot be captured in the video. In particular, towards the end of the performance, when the protagonist is darkened from head to toe and bounces momentarily upon her toes sending plumes of dark pigment dust into the air obscuring her own form from view. This obfuscation strangely broke the seal of limitation that was present in the video document. The dark dust billowed out and, even though in tiny quantities, settled on all the surfaces in the vicinity and upon the spectators too. The body had extended itself out beyond its limits through a process of accretion and redistribution of matter shared with the inhabited space of the performance. Stepping off the paper at the end of the performance, the virginal white clad body, now darkened from head to foot, the performer slinks off down a corridor and out of view. She has become a metaphor for that obscure conflicted beast of the future. An uncertain beast composed both of light and of darkness.
Liam Gough 2014
In the back corner room Liam Gough has created a museum display of his drawings of found objects. Each object takes on a great significance empowered by the mode of display. The sombre lighting and the podium plinths elevate the drawings to the status of precious objects. The extraordinary element is that the textual objects that these drawings were made from are found objects. Each diary or notebook has been lost, abandoned or simply discarded. In a form of forensic or archaeological investigation Liam Gough has rendered drawings of these notebooks, writing pads and diaries as technical documents, noting every crease, ripple and shadow on the surface of the objects. Significantly the text that appears on the surface of the objects has been drawn as an outline. This makes the hollowed out text difficult to read but it also transforms the text itself into a visual object outside of the normal system of language symbols. The letters and words become shapes silhouettes divorced from the normal role as a habitation for a meaning. Extraordinarily they have become absolute visual documents, renderings of lost objects divorced from their informative purpose. The information that could be gleaned from the legible text has been supplanted by beautiful drawings that are drenched in the melancholy of the lost.
Luz Estrada 2014
At the back of the room a metal shutter is glowing, curiously it draws the spectator around the corner. It is the reflected light from an array of light boxes each one containing an image of a performance of a portrait. Luz Estrada has taken images from pornography and popular media, all appropriated from online blogs, to explore multiple identities born from the fetish of appearance. Some images are ridiculous, others disturbing. They show an in-camera effect where the artist unsuccessfully moulds herself into an image that she is projecting onto herself. The artist’s body becomes the support and the medium of the artwork. The array of light boxes encapsulates each image/performance as an entity, an event of tortured frustration. The artist’s body cannot ever be fully melded with the image. The inability of the fetish image to encapsulate the actuality of the living human body is revealed in all its inadequacies. The process of turning the artist’s body into an image of another body becomes a failed attempt to fetishize the body as an image. The erotic is displaced by the incongruity of the two entities forced to exist as an unconformable single entity in a new two dimensional document. The disturbance of expectation, that is, the rational need to recognise either the body or the image, denies the satisfaction of truly knowing where the viewer stands in relation to the object. The doppelgangers and shape shifters presented in these works are beasts of flesh and light. Both irreconcilable and yet conjoined in seductively back lit boxes, the images radiate attractive colours and hues that are both compelling and repellent. The artist herself remains recognisable throughout each incarnation, never truly relinquishing her identity as a body. This highlights the lack of libido in the dead fetish image that she shares the frame with. If anything these works by Luz Estrada indicate that the future of the human body and the fetishized image of that body will continue to be a relationship fraught with irreconcilable inadequacies.
The journey through the maze has concluded and the beast of the future has yet to be found but there have been many clues as to the possible form the beast may inhabit, clues derived purely from the experience of the labyrinthine space of the exhibition. Like any puzzle the exhibition has provided dead ends, confusions, lost moments of and necessary u-turns. But there were also opportunities to peek around unknown corners, to look over the horizon, to discover new paths, to imagine possibilities that lie beyond in the unattainable distance. The future is always uncertain but the most intriguing disclosure in this regard was by the artists themselves when talking about their work. They were all curious about the next development, where their work was taking them and how they were going to progress. Each and every one of them had their gaze firmly focused upon that horizon, that distant place so full of possibility. They were all looking at the future.
Barry Kehoe June 2014
Natural Artifice | Paola Catizone
A study of the relationships and discordances between drawing, performance and video art
The recent exhibition by Paola Catizone at the SOMA gallery in Waterford is part of a continuum of work by the artist deploying durational performance, movement and dance together with trance music to create abstract drawings. The work also includes sculptural and video elements. Collaboration plays an ongoing and central role in Catizone’s work, particularly in performance, where a dialogue with dancers and DJ’s underlies her practice.
Some of the earlier works included in the exhibition are large circular drawings composed of energetic lines and strokes, developed performatively over a number of hours, during which the artist stands very close to wall-mounted paper clutching a number of mark-making implements in each hand. The physical limits of the drawings, therefore, are controlled by the natural circular span of the artist with two arms outstretched.
The compelling effect of the resulting drawings seems to reflect hidden impulses and energies in the subconscious – strange bipartite fields of marks with intensities in certain areas that might be interpreted as areas of the brain lighting up in involuntary response to the music or, perhaps, the parts of the brain activated in trance or even, more simply, the capacities and limits of the body engaged in an exhausting activity of a repetitive nature. Reference to the brain may be incidental, or it may demonstrate as elaborated later, the extension of ‘thinking’ into the body, that is, the embodied nature of thought.
In these pieces, the tangible result emerges and evolves through a set of parameters – the paper, its vertical positioning, the music, the duration, the artist’s chosen limits in terms of permissible movement and drawing implements.
Comparing one spontaneous drawing with another, an aspect of mood and temperament enter the frame – moments in time expressed in gesture – the translation into drawing of a body- language that is pre-linguistic. Catizone speaks about drawing from the body, not the eye and ‘seeking to go beyond our tired everyday perceptions.’ In these terms, one brings to mind the endeavors of Paul Cezanne to strip himself of inherited or learned ways of seeing. Seeking to revert to a pre-linguistic, untutored self in order to achieve a more complete vision – an embodied vision. Merleau-Ponty explores and dissects embodied vision in his essay ‘Eye and Mind’ (1964). Since we are ‘in the world’ we do not regard the world from the outside, as suggested by geometric perspective – our body is implicated in all we see.
For Merleau-Ponty, the body is interface between perceiving mind and physical world. He contests, in this way, the inheritance from the Renaissance of the constructed perspective which creates forever a viewer external to the scene in question and he sees in the work of Cezanne an attempt to overcome this exteriority. The constructed perspective, he says, is just another convention, as flawed as any other; there is no such thing as ‘depth,’ but only another width. We are not static – even the eye has to move to see and in any case, we move to negotiate and understand the world.
Catizone’s methods are, of course, very different from those of Cezanne. She is very specific about the role of drawing, as opposed to painting in her work. Drawing creates marks of a vulnerable, always contingent nature, maintaining an important transparency between the inhabited, physical world and the realm of the drawing, never seeking to create an ‘alternate’ world. Catizone does not produce representations in her drawings but something more akin to the experience, albeit a heightened one, of being embodied in the world. Through durational performance, moreover, we have the possibility of accompanying her into the realm of altered consciousness – into the place of ‘flow’ or complete absorption where we, too, might experience a shift in the tired everyday assumptions. In reference to the experience of performance art, Catizone says:
‘According to Coogan and to Milhalyi, flow is a state of deep absorption akin to ecstasy and to the buddhist Jana, during which the sense of time is lost and only the task at hand is held in mind.’
Catizone speaks about ‘breaking through’ our usual ways of seeing ‘if it is only a set of marks that have escaped the habitual tyranny of thinking and seeing….seek[ing] to shatter and fragment the habitual perception of reality.’ The practice is durational as it is only through extended time we can defeat our usual ways of thinking. Also, over time, there is something of the shamanistic spanning between two worlds. We might say, alternatively, it is an opening up of receptiveness to the reality of this world, to which we are more generally closed.
The vantage point for her drawings, Catizone says is ‘inside the image’ and only partially visible in the making. This seems an apt metaphor for Merleau-Ponty’s ‘intertwining’ in which we, in any case, never see from outside. Merleau-Ponty says we do not just act upon the world but the world makes demands of us. These durational pieces are reciprocal – as the work on paper emerges, the body too becomes marked, internally and externally, bearing traces of effort and exertion.
The drawings work on different levels. Up close, we see in the scrapings, scribbles and smudges, vigorous movements, pressures, footprints, handprints, frailty of endeavor. From further away, we see the very extents of limbs in creating action – a transference of three-dimensional movement in space onto a two-dimensional surface.
Other drawings in the exhibition have been created in a more conscious way, with circumspection and an eye to composition, albeit remaining anchored in a sense of body and movement. The artist speaks about an interplay between the conscious and subconscious and certain of these pieces bring to mind the work of Kandinsky – where the gestural stroke is imbued with an emotion and contains a sense of coded meaning. In places, there are lines that repeatedly follow the same path, yet here the embodied becomes less dominant and rather seems to spill over into obsessive thought or emotion.
A number of much smaller pieces also punctuate the exhibition. Compositionally, they provide contrast within the gallery, as well as areas of open space that offer a reprieve from the large, immersive drawings. Once again, the body of the viewer is implicated by the compunction to move towards or away from the works. ‘Scale can allow for immersion or objective detachment,’ says Catizone. She plays with these perceptual qualities, she says, ‘using the gallery space to create an environment within which disparity of scale, media and materials (plastic/paper/natural objects/video/performance), vie for the viewer’s attention. The title Natural Artifice derives from this juxtaposition of the natural and direct with the synthetic and mediated.’
‘Organic and plastic, slowly crafted work and quick gestural pieces create tension. I refuse to attempt to create a forced harmony or consistency of what is in fact a practice based on a fractured awareness.’
As with all performance art, Catizone must grapple with the documentation of her live work and its status within her practice. In her recent work, there is always some tangible record of the performances – mostly in the form of the resultant drawings as well as video documentation. Catizone integrates this video documentation into the body of her work, presenting it in the gallery space alongside finished drawn pieces. She regards it as offering another mode of reception and points out that her work is enriched in this way, where a more detailed or repeated viewing of a performance is possible.
‘Video recording of live performance can result in image making that can hold its own potency. While witnessing a performance in real time can allow for an empathy with the performer, viewing it again on video offers a detailed and total view of the event.’
A huge drawing on plastic (7×2 metres) is one of the more consciously created piece and this, in turn, becomes sculptural as its relative robustness as well as sheer size and its flexibility allow it to be mounted in a three-dimensional manner, requiring the visitor, once again, to move in and around it and to engage physically. It can assume various forms and each of these is documented by the artist and assimilated into her body of work.
The performance piece, which took place on the opening night of the SOMA exhibition appears to have evolved more directly, in a number of ways, from the earlier ‘circular’ drawings. Here, the parameters were a choreographed movement piece, developed in collaboration with Fiona Quilligan and performed by Catizone and Quilligan, music selected and provided by Nigel Woods and a drawing surface which was a strip of paper on the floor along which the two performers moved, often in a supine manner with a
combination of improvised and pre-determined gestures, each making marks with both hands. This time, the bodily movements are more elaborate, flowing and developed, yet the
resulting drawing emerges, once again, as a product of pre-determined parameters and without conscious ‘deliberation’. If the early circular pieces are ‘evidence’ of a durational event, this time we have more the feeling of a ‘mapping,’ of movements that are more planned, choreographed and chronological.
A sculptural element returns as a conclusion to the performance piece as the large resulting drawing is folded and becomes a three-dimensional object. In a wonderfully cyclical act, the spatiality of bodily movement, which has been traced or ‘mapped’ 2-dimensionally becomes spatial once again – acquiring a presence as a 3-dimensional object. The mapped gestures thus become distorted, suggesting the bending of space – the physically impossible.
The performance of this work – the languorous, seductive and compelling movements of the performers interspersed with frenetic ‘drawing motions’ brings to mind one of Catizone’s stated influences, Rebecca Horn. Here, however, instead of machines producing human-type actions that create marks, humans perform machinic actions with similarly seeming ‘arbitrary’ or incidental results.
The drawings resulting from these processes appear to tap into some unseen mystery that is both personal and universal. There is an audience and there is a performance, yet in the exploration of the body, its capacities and limits – we join in the ‘universal.’
Catizone speaks about becoming ‘the conduit for this non-personal truth.’ In Zen terms, says Catizone, ‘the small mind seeks to expand into larger mind.’
Whilst it is useful, in Catizone’s work, to refer to Merleau-Ponty and his commitment to pre-linguistic body and mind integration, Merleau-Ponty insists upon the attachment of every perception to an intention. Consciousness, for Merleau-Ponty, is always consciousness of something and that something will always be a tangible entity. Since perception is intertwined with movement, all movement becomes purposeful. Alfonso Lingis, a proponent as well as a critic of Merleau-Ponty, points out that most of our movements are without specific purpose – pacing, fidgeting and so on. Excessive energy and movement, then, is an extension of what we are as embodied entities and perhaps reflects our resonance with multiplicities and rhythms in the world around us. In this way, he also embraces the concept of ‘raw sensation,’ which is not attached to an object.
Alphonso Lingis, by contrast with Merleau-Ponty, celebrates sensory perception as providing the possibility of the indiscernible – an openness to that which is not pre-determined, where we find the possibility of a deeper access to the world.
In terms of Catizone, then, we might regard the seemingly meaningless (in her words) movement and drawing, as an expression, once again, of our universal embodied nature
and therefore – albeit elegant or agile – universal and identifiable for all.
Catizone talks about this large-scale body drawing as being perhaps more akin to touching than seeing and indeed pushing out to the extents of the body – the body pushes against a mark-making surface and the surface responds. As Merleau-Ponty says, it is not only the body that acts upon the world but the world responds, makes demands. This acting of environment upon us is evident, as we have seen, in the different scales of works in the exhibition – the small drawings bring one close – the large ones are viewable from a distance – although the intensity of line draws one close again – moving towards and away from the walls as we do from a source of sound.
‘Large scale places the imaginative realm around us rather than inside the body, where Christianity would have the soul reside. This surrounding Anima Mundi includes us and connects us to all things’ says Catizone. In this way Catizone’s work also topples the hierarchical structure from the divine to human to animal and inanimate in favour of a heterogeneous world of which we are a part rather than over which we preside.
…‘Not as a window into the world but a device for understanding our place in the universe’ (Dexter.E.2005.p5).
Catizone’s work elicits an empathic and embodied response both in its performative creation and in the resultant works. As stated by Arnold Berleant, aesthetic experience is embodied – meaning the deployment of body and mind together. He speaks of this experience both in the creation and reception of art.
More recently, the idea of empathic response has been scientifically verified – we re-enact in our bodies that which we witness – and if inured somewhat by overexposure to electronic media, we are arguably heightened in our response to the presence of a live acting body – its frailty and vulnerability.
The sight of the body in motion, the hand at work is powerful and so in Catizone’s work we have resonances not just with the embodied but the very moment of engendering of the work. These drawings are about the gesture itself – the act of movement – essentially staying in that moment. Furthermore, where performances are durational, we become more immersed over time. It takes time to slough off everyday ways of perceiving, as Catizone says, and this applies to the viewer as well as the performer.
The existential and transcendent in Catizone’s work becomes culturally and mythically embedded when she begins to speak about weaving and making – pursuits that require patience and are associated with traditional feminine activities. Waiting and endurance also have connotations of healing and repairing as well as maintaining or remaking universal connections – a reference to the interconnection of everything, to networks rather than hierarchies:
‘All of these actions share a repetitive insistence aimed not at building in the daylight realm of reason but in the darkness of the somatic and unconscious, in an effort that runs contrary to common practical sense, working ‘contro natura.’’ Catizone.
Catizone taps into the realm of shadows – the place of imagination and mystery disregarded by Cartesian dualism and in modernism’s attachment to light, transparency and the rational.
This approach links to a political attitude underlying her work. Catizone speaks of taking a stance against the all-pervasive attitude of productive work and consumption, stepping, instead, towards ritual and magic. Her work represents ‘small actions of resistance against global catastrophe.’ This is echoed in the writings of Jane Bennett about ‘sensibility formation’ as a means of altering human behavior, in the belief that coercion is ineffective. She too, seeks to topple hierarchies, in her case of animate and inanimate, instead speaking of the interconnectedness of everything. When writing about the ethical and aesthetic turn in political theory over the past twenty years, Bennett cites feminist studies of the body and Foucault’s work on ‘care of the self’ as highly influential. The understanding emerged that knowledge or legislation alone would not modify behavior. Theorists began to affirm, says Bennett, that which ‘Romantic thinkers had long noted: if a set of moral principles is actually to be lived out, the right mood or landscape of effect has to be in place.’
‘There will be no greening of the economy, no redistribution of wealth, no enforcement or extension of rights without human dispositions, moods and cultural ensembles hospitable to these effects.’
Appealing to the feminine principals mentioned above as well as ideas of embodiment becomes more explicit in Catizone’s forthcoming work.
In her performance as part of her NCAD MFA final show, (opening to the public on the 13th of June at 7pm), Catizone, in her own words ‘will enter the space of performance as a solo artist …[pushing]… her practice of embodied drawing further, with an ‘all body’ drawing process. Here she will eschew not only the central role of the eye in art-making, but also that of the painting/drawing hand; the hands and arms and body become smeared and marked with the act and endeavor of making. As with Natural Artifice, the relationship between performance, drawing and video will once more be examined through this new work.
The performance will be repeated, and developed nightly until the 20th of June.
Please note, the times of performances are as follows:
13th June – 7pm
16th June – 6pm
17th June – 6pm
18th June – 1.30 pm
19th June – 6pm
20th June – 6pm
The show will continue until the 22nd of June and Catizone’s video and installation will be on display until then, together with the work of 25 emerging Dublin-based artists.
MFA Exhibition, 13th to 22nd of June, 2014, Emmet House (Across from Arthur’s Pub), Thomas Street, Dublin 8
Bennett, J. (2010) Vibrant Matter. A Political Ecology of Things. Duke University Press
Berleant, A. (2003) Aesthetic Embodiment paper given at the meeting of the American Philosophical Association Boston MA December 2003 accessed at www.autograff.com
Carman, T. (1999) The Body in Husserl and Merleau-Ponty. Philosophical Topics Vol. 27. No.2. Fall 1999
Catizone, P. Questions on the Present Moment in Performance and Video Art (2014)
Catizone, P. Drawing Limits (2014)
Lingis, A. (2009) The Inner Experience of our Body. Discussion notes on Merleau-Ponty. Journal of the British Society for Phenomenology, Vol.40, No.1, January 2009
Merleau-Ponty, M. (1945) Cezanne’s Doubt in Toadvine, T., Lawlor, L.,(Ed.)(2007) The Merleau- Ponty Reader. Northwestern University Press accessed at www.nupress.northwestern.edu
Merleau-Ponty, M. (1962) Phenomenology of Perception. Routledge. Originally published as Phenomenologie de la perception (1945) Gallimard, Paris
Merleau-Ponty, M. (1964) Eye and Mind in Toadvine, T., Lawlor, L.,(Ed.)(2007) The Merleau- Ponty Reader. Northwestern University Press accessed at www.nupress.northwestern.edu (original 1961)
F.David Peat (n.d.) speaking on ‘youtube’ video David Peat 1 uploaded by arcomanu (n.d.) accessed at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TiAz8MICUj0&feature=related on 25-9-11
Note: All photographs are courtesy of the artist