Lost Language, Kraak
Kraak’s current exhibition, Lost Language, features a collection of artists working in refreshingly diverse media. Here’s some on the two works I enjoyed the most.
Jennifer McDonald’s installation takes the shape of a large Christian-type cross. The structure is about six feet tall and its exterior is covered in a red material. The colour’s so red, so intense; it seeps into my eyes. A draped entrance lets you enter from the longest section and inside the framework is clad in dried, thorny sticks, kept in place with a wire mesh. It feels hostile yet protective. There’s a comforting smell of wood. Light passing through the material gives the interior the soft red glow of a darkroom. Whereas from the outside the redness, and the extent to which the piece fills the room, make its form not so straightforward to decipher, from inside it’s obvious. You can walk up the cross and fit snugly inside the two enclaves that form the horizontal line. The piece is surely concerned with religion, but what is it trying to say? In the context of the show’s title, Lost Language, perhaps the work is a comment on the loss of the language of the church and its diminishing presence (and relevance) in our society. Its language has been replaced with that of Art’s. That modern day religion, offering its followers superiority, an afterlife in catalogues, white-walled worship spaces and free wine.
Gary Fisher’s installation is one of those beautifully simple ideas that really engage. A microphone has been placed under one of the loose, rough floorboards. When you step onto it the creak and slap of it see-sawing under your weight is amplified through an uncased speaker, placed a couple of metres away on the floor - its cable hidden under the boards. You become more aware of your own presence as evidence of your movements are magnified. The piece reminded me of the way sound is used in Hollywood. No Country For Old Men (2007) didn’t have a soundtrack. Instead the sounds made by the characters’ movements and interactions were (or appeared to be) exaggerated. They were used to build suspense and carry narrative. Treading heavily over the board once more I feel like a cowboy stepping into a saloon. Imagine if the whole room was miked up! Microphones under each loose board, piezo transducers fixed to the door handles: a heightened awareness of your interaction with the world. But then maybe the piece would loose its charm - the floorboard, its specialness. The feeling of being in the club when you discover it would also be lost.
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
Detail from Digital Puddle 2008.