The other side of things (on the other side)
Haraldur Jonsson, Sigurdur Gudjonsson, Darri Lorenzen, Birta Gudjonsdottir & Geirthrudur Finnbogadottir Hjorvar, curated by Birta Gudjonsdottir
Bus Gallery
117 Little Lonsdale Street Melbourne, April-May 2006
image Sigurdur Gudjonsson
I had never been to BUS Gallery before so I was up for the new experience - “Artists from Iceland”. I think my partner Jessica’s view of the exhibition was doomed before we got to exhibition, so many factors contributed to her mood before arriving. It was on empty hungry tummies, after a strange run in with a homeless man and spending a little while walking around trying to find the gallery in an unfamiliar part of the city. What was in the exhibition (or the building itself) didn’t help to ease any anxiety or tension that accumulated prior to viewing.
The building was dark and raw with brickwork, building beams and structural inside supports showing. The works within the space showed a quiet unease, separateness and somehow seemed to capture the moment before a scare. In hindsight, we sought out the video work in the next room to comfort ourselves, assuming it would be predictable and passive like television or popular commercial cinema.
We were faced with more of the aforementioned only now that it was moving, life-animated; it was real and therefore worse. Breaking point came when the piece played scenes of darkness which were inexpectedly broken by a flashing of a horror-face screaming, like a strobe from the darkness prompting a shriek from my partner. We hadn’t seen the whole film and were not sure how long it was but she was quite anxious to leave. I almost felt that the exhibition was there for us as art’s representative of “shocks and thrills”, like that of the recent spate of shock-horror films from Hollywood and all its cinematic extensions (Wolf Creek, Hostel, Evil Aliens, High Tension). I am also interested in what I would think of the exhibition if I had of viewed it in a content, relaxed and clinical manner but maybe I wouldn’t have got as much out of it.
Ace
Bus Gallery
117 Little Lonsdale Street Melbourne, April-May 2006
image Sigurdur Gudjonsson
I had never been to BUS Gallery before so I was up for the new experience - “Artists from Iceland”. I think my partner Jessica’s view of the exhibition was doomed before we got to exhibition, so many factors contributed to her mood before arriving. It was on empty hungry tummies, after a strange run in with a homeless man and spending a little while walking around trying to find the gallery in an unfamiliar part of the city. What was in the exhibition (or the building itself) didn’t help to ease any anxiety or tension that accumulated prior to viewing.
The building was dark and raw with brickwork, building beams and structural inside supports showing. The works within the space showed a quiet unease, separateness and somehow seemed to capture the moment before a scare. In hindsight, we sought out the video work in the next room to comfort ourselves, assuming it would be predictable and passive like television or popular commercial cinema.
We were faced with more of the aforementioned only now that it was moving, life-animated; it was real and therefore worse. Breaking point came when the piece played scenes of darkness which were inexpectedly broken by a flashing of a horror-face screaming, like a strobe from the darkness prompting a shriek from my partner. We hadn’t seen the whole film and were not sure how long it was but she was quite anxious to leave. I almost felt that the exhibition was there for us as art’s representative of “shocks and thrills”, like that of the recent spate of shock-horror films from Hollywood and all its cinematic extensions (Wolf Creek, Hostel, Evil Aliens, High Tension). I am also interested in what I would think of the exhibition if I had of viewed it in a content, relaxed and clinical manner but maybe I wouldn’t have got as much out of it.
Ace
posted by speech at 8:48 PM
5 Comments:
On the 12/05/06 I visited the Bus Gallery with Ace where we sat and watched the film from the "artists from Iceland" exhibit. The first few moments of the film made it easy to become interested in its possibilities. As the film proceeded it seemed that the focus of the film was vague as it skipped from scene to scene seemingly touching on themes of supernaturalism, mental anguish and sexual connection.
The film used ghost like figures in many of the scenes displaying disconnectedness with their surroundings. A man at a table surrounded by golf balls (that later move without known cause) choking on a tampon displaying- I don’t know what- and a seedy barn with a dirty mattress with 4 feet rubbing together.
As the film continued at an excruciating slow pace it became apparent that the film didn’t cover any of its themes in great depth. The film failed to follow any time line- jumping erratically from scene to scene while managing to dwell too long in moments that don’t evolve into enough to tell the audience anything new about the story, characters, themes, timeline, meaning or purpose.
The film struggled to evoke emotion or tell me something new. One of the two emotions that was particularly strong was surprise/fear when the sound changed from dull tones to loud screams and flashing faces. The second was boredom and confusion about the purpose of staying to see the film through.
The film was played in a white room that carried the feeling that this is the same room that the gallery uses for all its films.
The piece was poor, drawn out and missing important elements such as purpose. As a final thought on the viewing- it’s a day in my life I wont ever get back, maybe I can sue the artist for it.
Cadeyrn and I meet up to see “Artist’s from Iceland” at bus gallery. Unfortunately the gallery was closed. It became too crazy to organise a new time. A week later I told Cadeyrn that our meeting, adventure to the gallery doors and departure from each other was the exhibition. So here are our responses to the exhibition we saw, lets just call it “1:30 little Lonsdale”.
My friend Sam took me to find an exhibition called “Artists from Iceland”. Along the way we found ourselves lost. When we found the gallery it appeared closed, so we decided to come back later when Sam was certain it was open.
One week later Sam told me that the whole experience was “contemporary art”. Everything from meeting on the corner of Little Lonsdale and Swanston, getting lost, not being able to get into the building to when we left each other was “contemporary art”.
I was confused, there were no paintings, no sculptures or even ice sculpture like I first anticipated for an exhibition entitled “Artists from Iceland”. If “1:30 Little Lonsdale” is contemporary art than what isn’t contemporary art? It seems that life it’s self can be contemporary art, and it is our job to use the world as our canvas to create our own masterpiece. One to be appreciated by generations to come.
The gallery was amazing, well a bit busy, loud, chaotic and dirty in some ways, but large. Some important factors involved got a little lost in this excess of space, I guess everything gets lots in the city though and that became a strong concept. However, a concept I have trouble grasping every journey I have to and from the city.
The city has a way of hypnotising everyone into some kind of solo transit trance. Often the only way of breaking this is to find a familiar face, a face that stops you wanting or needing to get anywhere than where you are. “1:30 little Lonsdale” offered this familiar face. It’s almost like before the show I didn’t exist, well existed as much as a tram seat. Cadeyrn played his part, the breaker of the trance. His acknowledgement of my existence enabled me to speak and listen, much more than I could as a tram seat.
An exhibition like “1:30 little Lonsdale”, reminds us of our existence, a truth that gets lost sometimes and the only way to find it is though art like this or a simple smile on a friendly face.
Nice Gallery. Not sure about the show.
Chris
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