Archived entries for Exhibitions

POST-DANCE


August 15, Project Arts Centre
Performance 5pm//Lecture 6pm

curated by ACW alumni Sara Muthi (ROU)// performed by Oran Leong (IRL)// composition by Aoife Kavanagh (IRL)// lecture by Amanda Øiestad Nilsen (NOR)

Post-dance is a new and rather empty terminology. Initially a 2015 conference of the same name it took place at MDT in Stockholm. Created by Danjel Andersson, André Lepecki and Gabriel Smeets, it gathered artists, scholars, thinkers, producers, activists and those who care deeply for dance. Together they considered this new vocabulary as a container for contemporary dance practice/thought which may otherwise suffer from an attempt at capturing it in historically loaded language. Post-dance has no agenda to advance or project the future of movement. Rather, it gives licence to connect things that seem farfetched, make what was once evident, foreign again; consider and cross-pollinate work that does not easily slot into commercial or institutional contexts.

Post-dance is an “open-source concept.” “It is not a leader. It is a container. It needs to be filled.” While performance art practice is overrun with multi-/inter-/post- disciplinary artists, dance may have become a term so vague and unstable that it can envelop any-body. The Dublin context, however, does not often consider the cross section of these paralleling practices. Both approach similar concerns of embodiment, meaning and touch through varying methods, methods that are appropriately and productively transferable. This contribution to Post-dance aims to connect often disparate creative performing communities. It proposes a space to borrow and test each other’s methodologies in order to labour for new answers to worn out questions like; what is dance? What is performance? It also has the potential to prompt answers to questions we have not yet asked.

This performance/lecture hopes to introduce the container of Post-dance to the Irish context through subverting expectations of what we consider to be dance, live-art, musical composition and, perhaps, audience. Post-dance is a container that serves the needs of every national community differently. This is Dublin’s contribution, hopefully one of many.

Find more information here: https://projectartscentre.ie/event/post-dance/

#postdancedublin #artisforeveryone

Silence is the Master by Orlaith Phelan

A recap on Lawrence Abu Hamdan’s Earwitness Theatre at the Chisenhale Gallery, London. The show marked the artist first solo UK exhibition in 2018, and remains one of such interrogative force that it has duly propelled him into this year’s Turner Prize arena. Occupying a trajectory that encompasses art, activism and investigation – boundaries are rewritten, language is reconstituted, and interrogation breathes a new articulation where even silence becomes deafening.

Earwitness Theatre artist and researcher Lawrence Abu Hamdan shows his latest enquiry into the political effects of listening at London’s Chisenhale Gallery. The exhibition is a double installation presenting Abu Hamdan’s latest research with Amnesty International and the first portrayal of his sonic library of sounds. For those of you unfamiliar with his work, his initial interest in the spatial qualities of sound has ledway into a career where the extent of his knowledge, acoustic research, and art production now even position him as an authority in legal cases where sound analysis is required. Apart from an ever growing list of accolades most notably he was approached to undertake the sound dissection of the ammunition used in the killing of two teenage boys in the Gaza Strip (2015). Expanding his acoustic analysis for the trial, stills and video of sonic imaging were distilled from the killing and used to form the basis of his acclaimed exhibition Earshot (2016), questioning the “aesthetics of evidence and the politics of sound and silence”. His affiliation to Forensic Architecture, nominated for the Turner Prize in 2018, should also start to ring some bells.

Earwitness Inventory is Abu Hamdan’s physical offering within the Chisenhale. 95 objects are on display that make up his catalogue of sonic violence. The objects are sober, unnatural and sharp within the space. Without knowing his work or the usual preoccupations of the Chisenhale Gallery they could almost be dismissed as the exhibition of an angst ridden assemblage artist. Almost. Once rushed through the immediate entrance of the exhibition space, amidst those first seconds of disorientation and strain for comprehension, the flickering text on the wall is just enough to ground your attention to a halt. The sudden anchor is exactly Abu Hamdan’s power. While you’re busy trying to side step the paddling pool, breeze block, and melon configurations on the ground to find where the real exhibition is, the words begin to register. Streams of text start implicating the various objects in descriptions of death and trauma; descriptions of brutal violence now being reconveyed through textual sound analogies of the everyday. The carefully stacked Pepsi bottle now evokes someone being bludgeoned to death, and the generic box of cinema popcorn becomes the plummeting sound of a collapsing building. Text and objects flicker across your eyes and body but though no sound is uttered the impact is deafening. You want to use a different word to describe this but there really is no other, this is exactly what it does. Confusion and naivety are replaced by a reality with such immediacy you’re now shocked, grateful, and fully engaged without having even glanced further into the gallery then past the objects by your sides.

The second installation is Saydnaya (the missing 19db); an audio work portraying the new limits of torture by the Syrian regime within the existing prison now used to house only political protestors. In this prison silence is their torture. The audio installation is housed separately in a dark sealed room placed at the center of the gallery space. Inside is the kind of dark that makes you fumble anxiously until you gratefully bang your head on the opposite wall; it is consuming. The audio track is less than 15 minutes long and gives you firsthand accounts of the prisoners within Saydnaya. To begin, Abu Hamdan uses sound samples in an ever descending scale to take you into the silence of the prison – because this is not sound as you know it nor that you could comprehend without these efforts. On our way there we plummet from the boom of a Boeing 747 landing, the screaming sounds of a New York highway, to the whispers of tranquility at a Swiss Alps retreat, and into stark sharpness of the Chernobyl exclusion zone… and we are still not at Saydnaya.

The prisoner testimonials that follow eradicate the assumption of anything over an inaudible whisper existing within the prison. In Saydnaya “the border between sound and silence is the border between life and death.” To move, to cough, to make any sound involuntarily or otherwise results in punishment of death. If life in Saydnaya has any opportunity to be clung to, how excruciatingly can you choke silence for survival? Using tonal comparisons between the whispers of prisoners before and after 2011, when the prison switched from housing standard inmates to those of political protestors only, 19db was found to be the difference. To put this into perspective a difference of 19db is the same as comparing a jackhammer on a footpath to a dishwasher. Now instead of subtracting from the sound of a jackhammer, subtract from the average level of a human voice. That unbearable border of sound, the difference of 19db, suddenly becomes quantifiable. Once the brain has grasped this recognition its effect can’t be removed. Saydnaya is a reality that we could never have conceived before, but through Abu Hamdan’s tools of reconstruction it’s as if we sit in those cells too.

While the title of “artist and researcher” might cause an initial dismissal of the credibility of the work, it is clear that Abu Hamdan is a master of both the subject matter and its representation. He is using distortion to portray distortion, something only achievable through the manipulation of language to demonstrate the perversion of its use in Saydnaya. The result of this complex contradiction is incredibly evoked between both installations. It is as if the war of sound that now suddenly exists, can only be combated and reconstructed with the architecture of an exhibition that exploits sound itself. The uncanniness in the work makes it impossible not to surrender. It’s something which we have never had to question before, but now after this experience will find it hard to clear from our minds.

The content may appear brutal but it is so necessary; Earwitness Theatre is making us all accountable. Whether these are issues you want to engage with or not, there isn’t really an option when encountering this work. It is presenting concepts that are sordid and extreme, yet it still manages to transform them into something fiercely tangible. The installations succeed in quantifying the unquantifiable and your reward for listening is a brief glimpse into the realms of terror of a Syrian political prison from the safety of a respectable East London Gallery. You will never have experienced this in an exhibition before.

You feel the silence of Saydnaya when Abu Hamdan wants you to feel its silence, and you hear only the sound of brutalized violence when his text and assemblage compositions invoke you to do so. Freedom of speech now becomes confused with freedom of silence, but you can’t quite work out which is more necessary or whether one exists without the other. Crystal clear but almost out of grasp, this is the art of Abu Hamdan’s work.

Orlaith Phelan is an architect and a current student of Art in the Contemporary World.

TYPECAST X David Booth Exhibition Launch & Artist Talk


TYPECAST x David Booth Exhibition Launch & Artist Talk

Opening 14 June 2019 at 18:00 – 21:00
Runs until 29 June 2019

Artist Talk between Una Sealy RHA and David Booth on Wednesday, 26 June at 18:00
(please RSVP to hello@hangtoughgallery.com)

The Hang Tough Gallery is delighted present Typecast, the first solo show by Dublin based artist David Booth. Booth’s practice deals primarily with painting and drawing, using both traditional acrylic and oil paint on canvas but often incorporating mixed media on unconventional surfaces. Sympathetic to the human form Booth’s attention is largely monopolised toward portraiture. While engaging with a widely traditional format such as is portraiture, it is Booth’s stark contrast between hyper-realistic detailed features and graphic illustrative brush strokes which carry his paintings into the contemporary. Rather than an intention to display the expression or likeness of a human subject, Booth’s subjects are often anonymous; displaying the expression of the artistic gesture.

Occupied by the ongoing study into representation of identity, Typecast is the result of this ongoing theme. While working from his own resources, source imagery is developed in collaboration with contemporary photographers Philip White, Cayne Kxa and Eric van Kampen. Booth uses the portrait as a starting point that usually distills other multidimensional viewpoints. As the concept and vernacular of identity is reorienting, Booth recontextualises the term typecast to challenge these developments and how they refer to social, psychological factors.

David Booth completed his BFA at Wexford Campus School of Art. In 2013 he moved to Dublin to begin his full time career as an artist and has since exhibited both nationally and internationally. Booth has featured in The Irish Times, The Independent and has been awarded the Evans Painting Prize in 2016. His painting ‘Unit’ was selected for the Zurich Portrait Prize 2018/19 at The National Gallery of Ireland. Booth was recently accepted to the BP Portrait Award at the National Portrait Gallery in London. His work is held in both private and public collections including Office of Public Works (O.P.W) and various private collections in Ireland and Europe.

This exhibition is co-curated by ACW alumni and Hang Tough Gallery Assistant Sara Muthi.

Hang Tough Gallery | 25 Lennox St, Portobello, Dublin 8

www.hangtoughgallery.com

FB | IG @hangtoughgallery

Opening: Pauline Oliveros, Software for People @ The Goethe Institut

Constellations by Orlaith Phelan

C o n s t e l l a t i o n s
Wolfgang Tillmans, Rebuilding the Future Exhibition | IMMA

I’m photographs, sometimes photocopies, sometimes even photographs of photocopies. I’m taut, stretched and bare. Thin skin on clips balanced on an edge, human in and of paper. I’m framed, bound, sealed and dispersed in my own ordered disorder. I’m not hierarchy. I’m raised, pressed in corners, by door frames, over eyes, scattered flecks along each wall. Patterns colliding with vulnerable intent. I hide and I consume, between hard glass, white edge, and a devouring red that lingers as mirrored traces against the flat planes towards the hand that holds your dripping head.

I’m moments and the interstitial. The infra thin of borders and after borders, leaving both a position and a question. I’m that yellow line down the middle. The stain, the muck; the scratches that are not meant to be. I break, spatter and gather; a box of empties all used up. Systems, fragments and scraps of something dirty and divine. The excesses of the time; the love on the dance floor, the cock in your mouth, and the hands you hold in prayer. I’m the white wave catching colour, the fold that denies and caresses dark and light.

I’m showing you what makes the “me” of this, the pieces of now, and the things not of us. The measures of power, growth and decay at every scale. The cracks in the sand, spilling veins of disruption and collapse. I’m the apparatus and the ties, the plastic tubes that coil and hang. Colours that melt of horizons that must remember not to fade. I’m the light that hits your back, in the glow to the gutter of what came before the morning with the remains smeared at our feet. I’m your hand that rests in the crisp blue.

I’m of an old future looking back. Always changing; a process of medium becoming object becoming body. My body that’s been recorded, crumpled, erased, and exposed, but always rebuilding forward. I’m the black on brown, the tight brace on your flexed muscle reminding. I’m an approach without fear to push or pause. Cravings and thoughts of joy and distress; the singular pluralities of all parts human. I’m the intimacy of the explicit unprotected, and the desire that punctures the mundane desperate to seek and see. I’m all parts human and the need to be expressed.

I’m not a theme and I’m no one thing. I’m the opposite of your reductive thoughts and the will to be the obvious. An abstraction that keeps abstracting, but somehow I manage to hold and hover in the sounds of “just enough to think” and “let’s stop before we go too far”. A life of work from a work in life. I’m a thread of all things, like a constellation that burns in and out of sight; an offering of all points with nothing denied.


Orlaith Phelan is an architect and a current student of Art in the Contemporary World

Exhibition at 126 Artist-Run Gallery

Anticipated Fictions: Monumental Configurations at 126 Artist-Run Gallery from Saturday 27 April to 12 May.

126 Artist-Run Galley,
15 Saint Bridget’s Place,
The Hidden Valley,
Galway,
Ireland

Emma Brennan’s Heed To The Mound, reviewed by Aoife Banks

Six contorted, heaving bodies, six mounds of dough, arms and legs entwined with lengths of proved flour, yeast and water. Twisting, manipulating limbs and torsos. Cold, thick slaps of bread dough against concrete. Brushing of feet and fingers, the clatter of elbows, palms and kneecaps against the flour sifted floor. Dusty sweeping of limbs. Panting fury. Laboured breaths. Exhausted sighs. Groans of resistance; of perseverance. Our bodies; our battleground.

Emma Brennan’s authored durational performance “Heed, to the Mound”, presents a group of women negotiating space through the movement of mounds of bread dough within the space of The Complex for Dublin’s 2018 Fringe Festival. Taking place over the course of 3 hours, physical exertion takes it’s toll on the performers as they use their bodies to manoeuvre and manipulate mounds of bread dough, equivalent to the weight of their own bodies, across the performance space. Heed brings to the fore the question of space, how it is occupied, who occupies it and how we negotiate our bodies accordingly. Moving mounds through the tumultuous terrain of gender politics proves no easy feat, as the excruciating and exhaustive work quite fittingly erodes these women mentally and physically throughout the duration of the performance. With puffed red faces and sweat glistened necks, the performers roll, twist, knead, push and pull their dough with ferocious determination evoking an emotional response from spectators. As tightly clenched fists punch into dough and miniature mountains inch across concrete we see the slow progression of women’s rights throughout history, we see the everyday instances of aggression and violence toward female bodies, we hear the hurt and fury in the exasperated groans of women on the battleground of Ireland’s sociopolitical landscape.

The undervaluing of women’s labour throughout history and the unseen emotional labour expected of women within contemporary society are brought to the fore in Heed. Taking inspiration from her grandmother’s tradition of baking brown bread for the family, Brennan questions the devaluation of homemaking skills, deemed as “women’s work”, in Irish society. In rural Irish homesteads, the process of baking seemed to go almost unacknowledged and undervalued compared to the work of men’s labour on the farm or outside of the home. Heed, to the Mound points a finger at society’s valuation of the workload associated with the traditional role of the homemaker. Through the poignant actions of a group of women labouring intensively, exhausting every part of their bodies, over masses of dough, attention is drawn to the intensity of this work and respect that must be commanded of the act of making. Heed emphasises the importance of valuing these acts of unseen and undervalued labour in opposition to the emphasis placed on working for monetary gain within a capitalist system.

Brennan refers to her process of preparing the dough as a metaphor for the creation of life. “With flour and water, we can create a living, breathing body, something which can grow through proofing.” The genderless, sexless, mounds of dough present each performer with an opportunity to experience a sense of self without the weight of gender bias, stigma, discrimination, fear or insecurity. With pressed backs, stomping feet and curled fingers these women manipulate their very being across a public platform. Each women tending to their own projected doughy selves; some rip chunks out and squeeze together again, some stretch and roll out for lengths becoming thinner and thinner with each inch, some repeat the pulling and folding of flaps; the slapping of flesh and dough reverberating through the room. When kneading dough you cannot be heavy-handed – it changes the entire consistency and texture, you can taste a bread baked with love or anger. A handful of dough receiving the blunt force, or gentle caress, of emotion; do our bodies receive the same attention from the space we inhabit? Politics are a tactile experience, and the daily micro-aggressive touch of our oppressive sociopolitical sphere lingers in our physicality and psyche alike.

The socio-political landscape of contemporary Ireland has been aflood with dissent regarding the relationship between the state and women’s bodies. In 2018, Irish society saw the culmination of decades of protest in the passing of the movement to repeal the 8th Amendment from the Irish constitution. The year also marks the centenary of women’s partial suffrage in Ireland; 1918 was the first time Irish women (aged 30 or older who were university graduates or owned a certain amount of property) were permitted by law to vote and run in parliamentary elections. Both movements saw women collectively struggling against structures of power that sought to oppress and define them physically, mentally, socially and politically. From the violent beatings of protesting suffragettes at the hands of police forces to the vice grip of the 8th Amendment and the mobilisation of women in the campaign to repeal it, the female body indefinitely exists as a site of conflict in a constant struggle against its aggressive politicisation. Taking place just three months after the referendum on the 8th amendment was held, Heed, to the Mound allows for a form of post-repeal conflict resolution to play out on the concrete floor of The Complex. The struggle of dissent against patriarchal structures of power echoes through the space as violent slaps of an elongated limb of dough reverberate through the concrete floor. Forcefully, in spite of her evident fatigue, a woman thrusts it behind her shoulder to gain momentum before hurtling it down upon the flour scattered ground. Some of the dough breaks away to hit a nearby wall. She repeats her action; the dough catches her behind the neck with a smack to her upper back; there can be no disruption without trauma. She perseveres.

Exhausted, and seemingly close to defeat, one woman halts her movements. The mass she had been inching across the space has begun to stick to the undredged floor and each push is met with increased resistance. As she heaves her body upon the mound to catch her breath and rest for a moment, she is spotted by the human dredger. This woman stands watching over the others, smiling gently, a mountain of flour in hand. Upon seeing distress, she tends to the struggling womens needs by sifting flour with great care around the stubborn masses of dough. A moment later, the performer is moving again. In times of mass dissent against oppressive forces of power, it is collectivity and care for ourselves and one another that carry us through. We must remember to pay heed to the mound.

IMMA Presents: A Vague Anxiety

IMMA Presents: A Vague Anxiety
12 Apr 2019–18 Aug 2019

Opening Thursday 11 April 18:00 – 20:00

A new group exhibition of emerging artists addressing new issues of the Generation Y.

Featuring ACW Alumni Marie Farrington and including work by Cristina Bunello, Saidhbhín Gibson, Helio León, plattenbaustudio, Brian Teeling and Susanne Wawra, with performances by Alexis Blake and Stasis.

Old Invitations A DHG Student Forum response to the DHG archive

A DHG Student Forum response to the DHG archive
Thursday 28 February 2019, 1pm–8pm

Since March 2018, we’ve been celebrating 40 years of The Douglas Hyde Gallery, looking back through the DHG archive on Instagram under the hashtag #dhgat40, and gathering reflections from artists and audiences.

On 28 February, we will conclude our year-long anniversary celebrations with a special exhibition and series of performances over one afternoon and evening, curated by the DHG Student Forum.

Join us in the gallery on the 28th to explore Student Forum members’ responses to 40 years of programming at the DHG.

PROGRAMME

GALLERY 1

1pm–2pm
Automatic Writing Workshop with Eimear Regan

Taking inspiration from methods of practice of Hilma af Klint, whose paintings were shown in Gallery 2 in 2004 as part of The Paradise exhibition series (2001–2013), Eimear Regan will conduct an Automatic Writing Workshop. Participants will be encouraged to let their hand guide the process while developing a piece of new writing. No experience is necessary to participate in the workshop.

Open to all, but places are limited. To reserve a place, email dhgallery@tcd.ie.

2pm–5pm
Exhibition open to the public, including:

Visionary Art at the DHG – Research paper by Eimear Regan
A research paper following a timeline of visionary art that has been displayed throughout the gallery’s 40-year programme. The Kilim carpets in 1979, the Kalachakra Sand Mandala made by Tibetan monks in the gallery in 1994, K.F. Schobinger’s exhibition of drawings in 2006 (part of The Paradise exhibition series) and Tamara Henderson’s 2018 exhibition Season’s End: More Than Suitcases are just a few of the exhibitions touched on. This paper discusses the thread of attempting to make sense of the mysterious world through artistic practice and aspires to cover artists who have shown in the gallery and whose work has visionary qualities and aims. The research project will be discussed during the public seminar.

Re-Aftermath – 3D projection by Theo Hynan-Ratcliffe
This work consists of four separate videos repeated to form a skin-like cladding for the foundation of the gallery site. An audio piece which acts as the pulse of the archive, an archive soundscape punctuated by definitions of words used to describe the archive and used to describe the intention of intervening in the DHG’s archival materials. The rhythmic action of interacting with the physical archive and the repetitive hypnotic act of turning pages of history, generate skin, body and physicality. The human marks that act as the skeleton of the archive bring the increments of history back into the gallery itself as a physical presence in the space.

5.30pm–6.45pm
Public Seminar: Led by Aisling Ní Aodha, Laurence Counihan and Eimear Regan.

Open to all, no booking required.

7.30pm–8pm
Fleeced! by Isadora Epstein

Fleeced! is a new performance by Isadora Epstein about the mythical Golden Fleece and the 1990 Anselm Kiefer exhibition Jason and the Argonauts. The theatrical lecture will be accompanied by musician/composer Sinéad Onóra Kennedy and choreographer/dancer Aoibhinn O’Dea.

Open to all, but places are limited. To reserve a place, email dhgallery@tcd.ie. Due to the nature of the performance, there can be no late admittance.

GALLERY 2

1pm–8pm
An epistolary exchange with Richard Skelton, by Siobhán Kane

Siobhán Kane invited the artist Richard Skelton into an epistolary dialogue, to revisit his 2011 work Landings for The Douglas Hyde Gallery, and further explore some of his thoughts on landscape, art and the vital role of archiving. What emerges both surprises and educates, putting forward the idea that no art is finite. Through a small installation, both audio and textual, Kane pays homage to the original exhibition of Landings, and its idea of immersion as touchstone.

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Image: Student Forum archival research meeting at The Douglas Hyde Gallery, 16 October 2018.

Ultra-red, Archiving the Debt

In February 2003, Los Angeles-based sound artists Ultra-red began a year-long project in the Ballymun area of Dublin, commissioned by Breaking Ground, the Per Cent for Art programme of Ballymun Regeneration Ltd. EntitledThe Debt, their project was a series of collective reflections that brought together residents from the public housing communities of Ballymun and Pico Aliso in East Los Angeles.The purpose of these encounters was to compare experiences of regeneration in social housing.

Fifteen years on from Ulta-red’s first encounters in Ballymun we might ask:
What is the legacy of social housing in Ireland?

Set up as a listening room in the Goethe-Institut’s Return Gallery, Archiving The Debt focuses on a specific exchange of experiences, ideas and questions that occurred at a time when large-scale public housing was in under intense discussion in Dublin. Visitors can access recordings made duringThe Debt: resident meetings, conversations with city officials, radio broadcasts, performances and electro acoustic soundscapes of Ballymun.

Presented by the Goethe-Institut Irland in collaboration with the National College of Art & Design. Supporting structures made by Andreas Kindler von Knobloch. Situated under Liam Gillick’s Denominator Platform, 2018.

ArchivingThe Debt is part of Common Denominator: Art and the Contemporary World at the Goethe-Institut, a two-year programme in the Return Gallery. Through exhibitions, seminars, discussions and more, it interrogates what it means now to speak of political solidarity, civic standards or even aesthetic values.

Art in the Contemporary World is a taught Masters programme at the National College of Art & Design in Dublin, focusing on contemporary practices and their cultural, political, social and historical contexts. ACW is led by Francis Halsall, Declan Long and Sarah Pierce.

Exhibition runs from 7 February through 15 April 2019.

Gallery hours:
Monday–Thursday 10am to 9pm
Friday 10am to 5.30pm
Saturday 10am to 1:30pm
Closed Bank Holiday weekends.

Contact
Heidrun Rottke Goethe-Institut Irland
+353 (01) 680 1100 heidrun.rottke@ goethe.de

Return Gallery Goethe-Institut Irland
37 Merrion Square East
Dublin 2

The Ontology of the Artefact

The Ontology of the Artefact is a digital publication compiled by students, Aoife Banks, Nathan Cahill and Kate Friedeberg of NCAD’s Art in the Contemporary World Masters programme, exploring the conditions of the artefact within colonial museology through to contemporary visual culture. It is a platform for discourse surrounding the artefact and its displacement, creation, destruction, and reimagining.

Read the publication here: http://www.ontologyoftheartefact.xyz

Please join us for the launch of The Ontology of the Artefact at Temple Bar Gallery and Studios on Wednesday 30th Jan at 7pm. Speaking at the launch will be Rachel Dwyer, lecturer of digital cultures in the School of Visual Cultures in the NCAD and Melanie Otto, lecturer of postcolonial literature in The School of English in Trinity College. Talk followed by wine reception.

Wednesday 30 January 2019
7pm
Studio 6

Free admission, no booking required.

You, Me and Everything In Between workshop conducted by ACW students in the RHA

Art in the Contemporary World work with the RHA for Learning and Public Engagement, Futures Series 3, Episode 2 with Dublin Youth Dance Company

Working closely with the RHA, Katy Fitzpatrick and Róisín Bohan for the Public Engagement and Learning program for the current Futures exhibition, ACW students, Brendan Fox, Natalie Pullen and Éimear Regan developed You, Me and Everything In Between. A theatrical workshop loosely based around Augusto Boal’s Theatre of the Oppressed, where participants were encouraged to manifest a performative narrative connecting the exhibition content. The artists featuring in Futures Series 3, Episode 2 exhibition are Bassam Al-Sabah, Cecilia Danell, Laura Fitzgerald, Jennifer Mehigan, Joanne Reid and Marcel Vidal. The work on display by each artist in Futures is unconnected and seemingly disparate as the exhibition is a display of their own personal practice rather than a group show that relates to a specific theme or greater narrative. The challenge set forth in the workshop was to develop a constellation between the artists’ work on display, with an outcome of producing and creating a wholly separate piece of performance art. The artists in the Futures exhibition also contributed to the workshop by donating personal objects for a further insight into their world. Among the objects donated were a paint pot cast from layers upon layers of paint, a silver mask and a metal rod. Members of the Dublin Youth Dance Company directed by Mariam Ribon, were invited to participate in the 3-hour-long workshop which took place on Saturday 15 December. The first half of the workshop began with the 11 participants viewing and taking in the work, followed by a meditation and then contained a series of exercises influenced by Boal’s practice where there was a discussion and consequently where the generation of ideas for a narrative emerged. During the second half of the workshop the DYDC participants were divided into three groups and were instructed to develop their narrative of the exhibition through three “moments” that established a final performance. Materials were provided by the facilitators Fox, Pullen and Regan to aid the development and theatricality of the narrative, encouraging the participants to engage in producing a fully embodied piece of art. The dancers infused themselves into the workshop and the outcome was outstanding. Each group performed their finished piece within the space with the artworks as a backdrop. The dancers’ commitment to the workshop was phenomenal and the creative energy generated in the space was quite special.

Éimear Regan, MA Art in the Contemporary World

All photographs by Brendan Fox

Young Hearts Run Free Collective turns 10!

Young Hearts – www.youngheartsrunfree.ie turns 10 in December, and to celebrate the milestone there’s a mini-festival from 7th – 9th December at venues around Dublin city.

As ever, all the proceeds go to the Simon Community -The project/collective was started in 2008 by Siobhán Kane, wanting to promote the creative community, as well as raise money for this homeless organisation.

There are so many great people contributing, from Emmet Kirwan to David O’Doherty, Katie Kim, Lisa O’Neill, Dreamgun – to grab tickets to any of the events click the link below:

https://www.eventbrite.ie/o/young-hearts-run-free-6319407353

Don’t miss out!

six seville

six seville
6 Seville Place, Dublin 1

six seville opens on Friday 30th November, 7 – 9pm

Exhibition continues Saturday 1st – Sunday 2nd December, 8am – 4.30pm

six seville features work by Conall Kelleher, Andreas Kindler von Knobloch, Áine McBride, Blaine O’Donnell, Liliane Puthod, Conal Ryan and Tanad Williams in a formerly vacant building now used as a studio space.

Review: Furtive Tears by Niamh McCann at The Hugh Lane Gallery by Brendan Fox (ACW)

A New Occult and Encounters with the Invisible Man

A review of Furtive Tears, 4 October 2018 – 6 January 2019 by Niamh McCann at The Hugh Lane Gallery, Dublin, 2018.

Rodin's The Age of Bronze AKA The Awakening Man AKA The Vanquished One (masked) - Box Steel Frame, Walnut Burl Veneer Panel, Painted Panel, nuts and bolts, The Age of Bronze by Auguste Rodin from Dublin City Gallery The Hugh Lane’s collection - 2018.Photo Credit: Ruarí Conaty.

Occultation; n. (Astronomy); The passage of a celestial object across the line of sight between an observer and another celestial object; as when the moon moves between the Earth and the sun in a solar eclipse.

Beckoning us through ghostly operatic echoes as we ascend the stoic neoclassical staircase of the Hugh Lane Gallery, McCann’s video work Furtive Tears, Salomé’s Lament eventually drenches us in
an opulent fusion of Richard Strauss’s Salomé and Donizetti’s Una Furtiva Lagrima from here the hybridism of language and landscape becomes only more strange.

An imposing screen seduces us. Boris, a suited man, appears to await our arrival and scales the grandiose marble staircase of Belfast City Hall in a pair of red high heels. In a duo of impassioned tableau vivant’s he mimics the stance of Sir Edward Carson’s statue, situated at Stormont Castle, Belfast, followed by the Jim Larkin monument on O’Connell Street, just meters away. Both prominent twentieth century political figures immortalised in a state of dramatic public address. Outside the gallery they tower over contemporary cities fraught with new political uncertainties, their power redundant, their bodies now relics cast in silence. McCann breathes a last breath into their predominance and within it gives us space to reassess our own position in relation to both historic and contemporary power structures.
In the following scene we follow Boris’s continued ascension as he scales the Ridge View of Black Mountain leaving Belfast city behind having swapped his suit for a panda costume. Still wearing his red shoes, we witness him meandering through dewy grass, climbing fences and encountering mildly inconvenienced cows. He again mimics these political ghosts but this time the man is hidden, masked, he has become a cartoon. The dramatic inhabitance of these two iconic statues becomes a pathetic historical indistinct echo falling on deaf ears. We see his physical intentions without the details of expression, he is present but not apparent, something has passed between us and him obscuring our perspective, our reality.

This notion of occultation is pushed further in the adjoining gallery as we encounter our third immortalised male figure in a work wryly entitled The Age of Bronze AKA The Awakening Man AKA The Vanquished One (masked) pertaining to Rodin’s multi named bronze cast male figure (1876-77), a piece from the Hugh Lane Collection. McCann encases the gallery’s own Age of Bronze in a sharp green box frame, his head and upper body obscured with two panels, one blue the other a walnut burl veneer. This is a mongrel of the opposing sides of modernism but beyond its formal and art historical loft dwells a new space for interpretation. Through McCann’s geometric addition the figure of the naked bronze solider appears vulnerable, even caged. As the linear mechanism contrasts with the details and curvatures of his lower anatomy a palpable intimacy develops, yet he cannot “see” us, he is a pawn in a statement, to be looked at but not fully engaged with.

These historic male statues and monuments bare a contemporary vulnerability. McCann is redistributing notions of power and how we perceive it. She confidently harnesses these icons like a child might put batteries in an old toy and asks us to look again. Paradoxically there is a sense of the prophetic here, these historic regurgitations feel immediate and succeed through McCann’s ubiquitous intentions, her place amid the current socio-political zeitgeist and our own conception of the dawning of a new order.

In another gallery a taxidermied fawn towers above us, its head suffocated with a zipped black balloon, its fore limbs extended to its rear with black curved rods as it precariously sits, like a rocking horse, atop a box frame plinth, containing a dangling umbilical-esque blue neon tube light. From a height a pair of white voile drapes partially veil the rich blue walls before theatrically pouring to the floor surrounding an offering of fresh lilies, their fragrance inhabiting the space in a sharp organic sweetness as if Salomé herself was present, seducing us, dancing the Seven Veils amid this mise-en- scène tempered with sacrifice, vulnerability and power. These works lean on us as viewers to decipher what we do not see, or what McCann chooses to occult; they deftly summon forth the invisible. In the same room a large bronze nose cast from Seamus Murphy’s marble bust of Michael Collins (1949), another work from the Hugh Lane Collection, sits on a faux classical plinth, faceless, ironically pointing at a second green pedestal with a pair of destroyed aviator sunglasses. The monumental male is almost invisible now, surviving only by a nose, snorting contemporary air, like a man drowning in history or to quote Salomé in “black lakes troubled by fantastic moons.”

Art critic Rosalind Krauss writes of the logic of sculpture as being inseparable from the logic of the monument, “It sits in a particular place and speaks in a symbolical tongue about the meaning or use of that place”. McCann’s landscape of artefacts is profoundly routed in the space it inhabits; it is of the institution and rebels tangibly and intellectually within that frame. It is quite literally a Trojan horse, it is a series interventional contraptions concealing rebels and soldiers.

Here Salomé no longer dances alone under the gaze of men McCann’s ideas head bang alongside her, amid the Hugh Lane collection, like their parents have gone out of town. Furtive Tears is a spiky romantic affair it confronts us with fact and fiction, real and faux. Like Parrhasius’s curtain the perceived occultation is the work. As McCann’s objects pass between us and the past they momentarily eclipse history and in that darkness dwells a new constellation offering us portals into the alternative, interrogating socio-political shifts and arguing the legitimacy of the relics of politics and art, placing us at the centre of our own truths and preconceived ideas of our idiosyncratic place in story that is history.

Brendan Fox is an artist, curator, film maker and writer living in Dublin, he is currently studying MA Art in the Contemporary World, NCAD

www.brendanfoxart.com

Make Haste, Slowly at the Return Gallery


Photo Credit: Louis Haugh

Make Haste, Slowly
Return Gallery Goethe-Institut Irland, 37 Merrion Square, Dublin 2.

A collectively curated, scripted, performed, and presented exercise in radical pedagogies by the MA Art in the Contemporary World: Jack Cole, Dominique Crowley, Padraig Cunningham, Stephanie Deady, María del Buey, Tamara Derksen, Nicole Di Sandro, Brendan Fox,
Kate Friedeberg, Valerie Joyce, Seánan Kerr, Heidee Martin, Grainne Murphy, Orlaith Phelan, Natalie Pullen, Éimear Regan, and Laura Skublics.
With artworks and collaborations featuring Basil Al
Rawi, Jane’s Bees, Jasmin Marker, Repeater Collective, Noel Sheridan, John Smith, and David and Sally Shaw-Smith. Presented in the context of Liam Gillick’s Denominator Platform 2018, specially commissioned by Art in the Contemporary World for the Return Gallery.
Make Haste, Slowly is part of Common Denominator: Art in the Contemporary World at the Goethe-Institut, a two-year programme that takes as its starting point Walter Gropius’s term, from which collective knowledges progress. Through exhibitions, events, seminars and more we will interrogate and inhabit what it means in our time to speak of political solidarity, civic standards, or even aesthetic values, and to consider
the relation between common commitments and necessary possibilities of individual belief, expression and action.
Art in the Contemporary World is Ireland’s leading taught MA at the National College of Art & Design in Dublin.
Our students are avid researchers whose focus is to advance a project with the aim of understanding, interrogating,
and expanding the role of contemporary practices and their contexts. ACW is led by Francis Halsall, Declan Long and Sarah Pierce.
Supported by the Goethe-Institut Irland in collaboration with the National College of Art & Design. Special thanks to the Kerlin Gallery and IMMA | Irish Museum of Modern Art.


Opening
30th November 2018 6 – 9pm
Exhibition runs through 12th January 2019
.

Liam Gillick in conversation with the MA Art in the Contemporary World


ACW in conversation under Liam Gillick’s Discussion Island at the Return Gallery. Photo by: Louis Haugh

Goethe Institut Irland
37 Merrion Square
Dublin 2

Wednesday
21st November
6PM

On the occasion of Liam Gillick’s exhibition A Depicted Horse is not a Critique of a Horse at the Kerlin Gallery (23rd November – 19th January) and his Denominator Platform 2018, specially commissioned for the Return Gallery at 37 Merrion Square in connection with Common Denominator: Art in the Contemporary World at the Goethe-Institut, a two-year programme that takes as its starting point Walter Gropius’s term, from which collective knowledges progress. Through exhibitions, events, seminars and more we will interrogate and inhabit what it means in our time to speak of political solidarity, civic standards, or even aesthetic values, and to consider the relation between common commitments and necessary possibilities of individual belief, expression and action.

All welcome. Please note space is limited. Arrive early to avoid disappointment.

Supported by the Goethe-Institut Irland, in collaboration with the National College of Art & Design. Courtesy the Kerlin Gallery.

Contacts
Rosa Abbott
Kerlin Gallery
+353 1 670 9093
gallery@kerlin.ie

Éimear Regan
Art in the Contemporary World
ncadacw@gmail.com
www.acw.ie

Heidrun Rottke
Goethe-Institut Irland
+353 1 680 1100
heidrun.rottke@goethe.de

Review by Seanán Kerr, ACW: Sean Scully, The Land/The Line at The Kerlin Gallery

Landline Burgandy, Sean Scully. Photo by Seanán Kerr

The Land/The Line, Sean Scully

The Kerlin Gallery

3rd October-17th November

“People come in here wanting to hate them…” To turn a trite cliché if Sean Scully didn’t exist you’d have to invent him, but such is the particular idiosyncrasies of that aspect (or perception) of Ireland he captures, there is perhaps only space in the collective art consciousness for one. What the gallerist informed me cannot be said for certain to be a wholly accurate gauge of the mind state of those before encountering one of the large square Scullies from 2015 and 2017 (curiously not 2016) of the landline series. As ever the space of the Kerlin excels in displaying work of this kind of scale, big, but not excessively so, a generously portioned meal for an obese Goldilocks, the size and lighting of the space suits these creatures. Yet what the gallerist said certainly indicates there is an expectation, that they are too easy, a little too technical bereft, or perhaps rather a little too close to the bone as regards precisely what it is they speak of.

The seven works are the same size, approximately the same form, though two are canvas and five are aluminium, the ‘lines’ of the show title are there and they are not. This use of line as a denominator is surely at least partially ironic, at very few points are the delineations between the horizontalised colour forms these paintings consist of so clean as to honestly be called “line” with a straight face, there is a minimum of three dimensions at play here. They smack and trample, into and over, akin to the colours in a four year old’s ball of play dough, once pristine, now mangled and bet into each other. Which isn’t to say they aren’t clearly defined, but sometimes the so-called lines aren’t defined by themselves inasmuch as they are by the last vestiges of older lines peeping out, like disturbed graves on a building site.

But what of the uncomfortable truth in Scully’s work? TJ Clark once defended the abstract expressionists citing “vulgarity”, is there a similar defense to be mounted in Scully’s case? Perhaps, perhaps not, in selecting the term “vulgar” Clark chose a word perfectly suited to a political, economic and cultural superpower on the rise, different to Ireland. Were I to propose such a term for Scully in the context of Éire it would have to be one that holds to an equivalent essential truth about both; that word would have to be “adequate”.

Like “vulgar” it conjures a sense of the pejorative, but not necessary so. The etymological root is in the latin for “equal”, the modern sense means “just good enough”. Both meanings speak of a certain truth of Irishness, where the light under overcast skies is spread wide, thin, nothing pops in such light, photographers complain of it, the lines are not quite lines.

The paintings follow a clockwise pattern, you climb the stairs and start with the one on its own on the left. This one is clearly the first in the sequence, there is a sense of signature about it, if you had to chose one to speak for the remaining half dozen, this would be it. The mix of blues is emblematic of the selection of works here, the inside of an old pot left outdoors rust orange, the burgundy that gives the work it’s title (Landline Burgundy), the sticking plaster fleshy-beige that streaks across the middle…

The presence of aluminium and canvas-based paintings begs a question, encourages examination of the brush strokes for stories and meaning. The aluminium resists, the canvas gives; so I’m told. (Though one risks making a fool of oneself if you can’t pass the pepsi challenge without peeking round the sides to note the material). The two blues speak of dark sea, yet the blue at the bottom is almost comically so, a mutant stowaway, a child’s idea of what blue is, unnatural and yet a shade often found on school uniforms. No single “line” is uniform. As with how the margins bleed and bump, fight and jostle, so too within the strokes themselves there is disagreement, different colours cling to different bristles, nothing is clearly defined and yet it is. There are seven “lines” (Newton who gave us two purple-blues (because the number seven appealed to his occultist sensibilities) would be pleased), the burgundy is second from bottom, it is complimented by the sticking plaster beige by looking like something you’d find under a bandage.

It is difficult sometimes to separate those aspects of Irishness that are in and of themselves, “pure” so to speak and those which emerged as a technology to be used against the English. An example can be found in a scene from Paddy Breathnacht’s I Went Down, where three men in a car approach a Garda checkpoint, the two in the front are kidnapping the one in the back, the kidnappers frantically curse the presence of the Gardaí on the road ahead as they pull up towards them, but as soon as they do pull up and the Garda looms through the wound down window, Brendan Gleeson’s Bunny draws the biggest laugh of the film by making this face…

There is something sinister about “Céad Míle Fáilte”, the term “aggressive gift giving” springs to mind, to be welcomed a hundred thousand times would be beyond tolerable.

The paint is slapped and lathered, the root of the strokes, as much in elbow, shoulder, torso, as wrist. A lick of not quite painted-over brown between beige and navy blue, another of the aforementioned disturbed graves.

The second Landline Asure, promises something more tranquil, this paint is borne by canvas, the surface less brutalised, shorter strokes, more delicate, curvier. A thick, almost slime-like spearmint green dominates the middle, an unfamiliar brand of toothpaste, one blue is so navy-dark it is as though the paint itself is hiding the strokes out of shame. There is no flatness here either, not really.

The third is brother to the first, perhaps twin. A broader spectrum. The longer, raking, straighter strokes the aluminium provokes, return. Again sea and rust, but a darker rust-red, situated on top, like a burning sky. A green is murdered and buried under granny-tights beige, can something that doesn’t aim for perfection have imperfections? A stab of white along the side, elderly pubic hair to go with the tights. Along the bottom is a dirty mustard, you’d think it had been dipped in it, if it wasn’t for the strokes.

The state of mind these images most readily reveal their nature to is sleep deprived. Jordowsky stayed awake for a week in the company of a zen master before shooting Holy Mountain. Camera pull back. Extreme heat and extreme cold are indistinguishable to touch. Place your arm along a series of bars which alternate cold and warm it will trick your system into registering extreme heat; apparently. The fourth is shaded like a child hiding in a ditch, or maybe she’s just thinking or longingly for the recent past to escape the near future as she rides in the back of the car being driven officiously back to the home she’d fled. This is what comes to mind when I look at Landline Crimson.

The lines have personality. The one painting called untitled has an expanse of grey, halfway between a view and being intensely accosted by John Major’s Spitting Image puppet. What does Scully have against canvases? Michelangelo struck David with his hammer demanding it speak, after it was finished, Scully attacks his canvases from the get go screaming, “shut up”.

The sixth is almost behaving itself, “yes Garda, as you can see…” the lines are almost evenly spaced. Here at last we have some green, but a green no Board Fáilte brochure would dare make use of. This is the green of Holbein’s dead Christ that so disturbed Dostoyevsky’s Prince Myshkin, not dying, not resurrected, but dead. This was the painting that on my first visit attracted flies, the gallerist approached me when he saw me taking photographs of them up close, we’d been in college about the same time, he a year below me (I think), but older, American, “please don’t post those online”, of course. Like a fascinating wound, the seat of all your attention, itchy, sore, pustulant, begging to be popped, prodded, picked, more engrossing than a smartphone in a hospital waiting room.

It is a treat to spend so much time with them, or at least to have a reason to, they require time. Footsteps and mouse clicks, short overheard conversations. The owner asking about the affordability of water taxis in some city he has to meet an artist, the gallerist answering a phone, saying matter of factly “about 11”. It seems everyone in here has a cold, sporadic coughing abounds, including from myself. I take it back, this one is the most obedient yet. Strokes shorter, more numerous, smoother, more bet in.

All is lit superbly. I am done, but never done with you Ireland, emigrant writers who can’t stop writing about here, you know the type, suppose you get it in painters too. Dignity in smeared makeup, like the drunk who feels sobered up in the company of the far drunker companion she’s waiting patiently with in the station at four in the morning. A strange blue-pink, the colour of a newborn chick tossed from a nest, an umbilical cord or varicose veins.

They are not lines,
They are not land,
They are people.

Seanán Kerr

Seanán Kerr was born in 1980, some stuff happened, then he wrote this. He is currently studying for an MA with Art in the Contemporary World, NCAD

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Memento Aldi, Danny Kelly at deAppendix

Memento Aldi, Danny Kelly at deAppendix, 30 Ardagh Grove, Blackrock.

Run: 23rd Oct – 7th Dec 2018

Memento Aldi is an installation of Danny Kelly’s recent painting at DeAppendix. Kelly’s work elaborates a subjective sphere of heterogeneous features comprising tropes of painting culture and items of biographical significance. A protean topography traverses the work’s pictorial content, objective environmental and material properties, and interpreted public and personal cultures – intimations of chart music and domestic miscellanea. Dynamics of disintegration and consolidation alternate, suggesting an accidental crucible breeding ephemeral hybrids. A visceral, crudely drawn practice emerges – playing with cohesiveness, personal identity and public visuality – and is embraced as a pidgin chart music.

Further info : contactdeappendix@gmail.com / 012785866

deAppendix is a cultural space co-located with a GP surgery and hosts a calendar of contemporary art exhibitions and artists talks. Through it’s programme deAppendix challenges how such spaces are activated and in so doing questions accepted norms for this genre of space. deAppendix is a project by Ciara McMahon whose art practice frequently examines the potential for hybridity between the disciplines of Art and Medicine. For further information see: www.deappendix.wordpress.com, or find us on Facebook, or we can be contacted at contactdeappendix@gmail.com

ACW Paul Roy Featured in Print Exhibition at Lessedra Gallery Bulgaria

Contemporary Printmaking from Ireland

November 1 – November 25, 2018

In a cooperation with Leinster Printmaking Studio
38 artists with 63 large size works

“The exhibition will be opened by H.E. Michael Forbes, Ambassador of Ireland to Bulgaria, at a reception on Thursday, 1 November, at 6 PM.
The Irish artists Margaret Becker, Pamela de Bri, Katherine Smits and Melissa Cherry will also be present.”

For more information:

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