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Redrawing boundaries: Fieldwork in the context of Ōtautahi

Exhibition companion essay commissioned by Toi Moroki CoCA from Bojana Rimbovska on the occasion of Peter Robinson’s Fieldwork, 3 March - 27 May 2018. Full exhibition photos can be viewed at fieldwork.website; photos in this essay by Daniela Aebli, courtesy of CoCA & Peter Robinson

Scattered across, between, and outside of CoCA’s gallery spaces are Peter Robinson’s delicate wire forms. Each holds their space within the demanding environment of CoCA’s brutalist building which has played host to a variety of exhibitions throughout its fifty-year history, and is again activated through Robinson’s playful spatial interventions. Evident in the exhibition are some common threads which have carried throughout his recent practice, namely his interest in the ways in which spatial arrangements are used to create new lines of sight and lead to a more conscious interaction with the gallery space. Fieldwork also invites the audience to engage in a conversation around the language of sculpture, and presents Robinson’s ongoing exploration of artistic convention and our consumption of it. It is an exhibition which is grounded: grounded in Ōtautahi – a place that connects to his own history as a boy growing up in Canterbury and his training as an artist, grounded in the space of the gallery – which becomes expanded and reconsidered as a site – and grounded in the space between work and viewer where meanings are continually being negotiated and constructed.

Fieldwork marks Robinson’s return to Ōtautahi, this being his first solo show in the city since the earthquakes. In 2017, he was a contributing artist to the Paemanu: Nohoaka Toi exhibition (also held at CoCA), which saw his brightly coloured felt forms hanging high and low on the gallery walls as if bouncing around the space. Fieldwork, however, offers a new body of work, one which Robinson has developed directly in response to the site. Woven throughout it are purposeful connections to the region that reference his personal history and gesture towards an exploration of twentieth century art historical discourse. Having grown up on a farm in Ashburton before moving to Ōtautahi to study at the Ilam School of Fine Arts, this idea of ‘fieldwork’ seems appropriate as a title and a concept through which to consider his work. It references a landscape – multiple landscapes in fact – as he constructs visual fields which are sparsely punctuated by his sculptural forms on the floor, walls and ceilings, and follow no discernible pattern while continually disrupting your gaze as you move through the space. One work in particular evokes the farming fields of the Canterbury plains, as hundreds of silver galvanized wires have been haphazardly placed on the ground mimicking a pile of hay. The lustrous quality of the wires reflects the light and catch the eye from a distance, again bringing attention to the expansive space which they occupy. The hanging grids which dominate the space in the Mair gallery can also be read as alluding to the grid layout of the city. They create a referential landscape that connects to the colonial history of Ōtautahi and ground the exhibition within the city, past and present, as the gallery itself has not shifted from its original position within the four avenues.

Furthermore, the materiality of the works themselves contribute to the construction of invisible fields, such as those created by the magnetic sculptures in the exhibition. These magnetic components literally anchor the works in the space as their magnetic attraction is often solely responsible for their attachment to the building and between the individual components of the work itself. This makes their position precarious, and subject to the viewer’s understanding of the forces at play as some people, for example those with pacemakers, will be directly impacted by something that remains invisible to the eye but dictates their movement through the space.

‘Fieldwork’ as a title also frames the exhibition in a way which acknowledges the processes behind its making. In the lead up to the instillation, Robinson made multiple visits to the gallery to explore the building and surrounding areas, which have changed considerably over time.  This research-based approach around the context that he is working within extends beyond the physical and considers the many artistic influences which inform his practice. Artists such as Richard Tuttle and Nora Schultz, whose sculptural practices incorporate found or readily available industrial materials like metal rods, tubes, and discarded wood which combined with the simple manipulation of these materials within the gallery space brings them into conversation with Robinson’s work. The audience too becomes an important part of this conversation. Thinking about the concept of fieldwork in relation to this exhibition clearly positions the audience as active participants in the collection and use of the information presented throughout it. Visitors to the gallery are bringing their own bias and knowledge into the space and drawing their own conclusions. It is a reminder that the nature of fieldwork – and the way we experience art of any kind – is always multi-directional and subjective as it is unable to be removed from the self. This element of self-reflexivity is encouraged as it makes space for constant reinterpretation of the works and acknowledges both internal and external influences which frame peoples experience of the exhibition.

Fieldwork also offers a refreshing treatment of the gallery space which has previously hosted massive and highly immersive exhibitions. The brutalist building – a fine example of the Christchurch Style and designed by Minson, Henning-Hansen and Dines – was purpose built as a gallery, and as such, offers a lot of light, height, and wall space with which to play around with. At first, Fieldwork appears to push back against this by having works that appear disproportionate in scale to the space and some that are scattered in dimly lit corners or obstructed by the architecture itself. Such tactics bring attention to the architectural features of the space which might otherwise go largely unnoticed or be perceived as being disconnected from the works on show. Robinson’s sculptural forms respond to the architecture in playful ways and remind the viewer that this is an active space. Long, textured, and anodized aluminium rods lean against the corners of the gallery and draw the eye up towards the ceiling, emphasising the point at which the two walls converge. Similarly, the wire work in the Ground Floor Gallery which is attached to a metal sprinkler pipe on the ceiling, as well as the work situated in the lift, bring attention to the services of the building and hint at its human occupation. Being reminded of this as people make their way around the show acknowledges the fact that it is more than an exhibition space – it is a workplace, a site of leisure and entertainment, and a site with its own history of which Fieldwork is only a small part of.

In other ways, the interplay between the sculptures and the architecture can also make something less visible. For example, a work made from very thin white wire blends into the surrounding white wall and is only revealed when people move closer to it. Another sculpture sits on the stairs between a wall and a glass divider and its reflection, as opposed to the object itself, is slowly revealed as people turn the corner. The careful placement of these works encourages people to slow down and consider them more closely, which is refreshing given the fast-paced approach to almost everything else in modern society. This idea of objects hiding in plain sight also contributes to the sense of playfulness that runs throughout the exhibition and it reminds us how reliant we are on the cues given by the built environment when navigating the space.

In a more subversive move, Fieldwork spills outside the galleries and pushes back against the museological convention of displaying works within a few designated areas. There are sculptures scattered throughout the building that occupy liminal spaces such as stairways, toilets, a fire corridor, and a balcony. Some of the works are easy to spot and draw attention to themselves through their bright colouring and prominent placement, but others are tucked away in dim or inconspicuous corners of the building which have been previously inaccessible to the general public. Free movement throughout the entire space is encouraged but is again mediated in subtle ways, and perhaps carries with it some anxieties around encountering these sculptures in places that might not necessarily be seen as ‘spaces of art’. Gallery maps and arrows also guide people to the works like a treasure hunt which removes the possibility of a chance encounter, and glass doors and rope barriers section off specific works from the viewer. The responsive nature of this exhibition means that the architecture has a large role in dictating the placement of the works and therefore should not be seen as something which is independent from the rest of the exhibition. By having works scattered throughout the building, the space is conceived of as a whole and people are invited to examine the gallery space in greater detail and look at it more conceptually, question where it begins and ends (if such judgements can be made at all), and consider why this ambiguity might be uncomfortable given the lasting influence of the white cube model of display.[1]

As a viewer, it’s impossible to remain passive when encountering Fieldwork. Curiosity, and to a degree, confusion encourage people to look closer, move further into the field laid out in the space, and decipher in their own way the visual language presented by Robinson. The participatory quality of the show is best demonstrated by the heightened sense of bodily awareness people gain when attempting to navigate the space. Their carefully choreographed movements are interrupted by moments of unpredictability when they are ambushed by a work as they turn corners, open doors, or shift their gaze. Even private moments are fair game with works waiting to be uncovered in the toilet cubicles. Such encounters urge visitors to spend time with the work and find their own ways of connecting to it. The exhibition is participatory not in the sense that it is tactile, but because it acknowledges that looking is not a passive act, particularly when followed by a conscious effort to comprehend what is in front of us, how it is framed, and how this feeds into the overall perception of the exhibition.

Although the element of surprise is, for the most part, a luxury afforded to first time visitors to the exhibition, Fieldwork continues to offer new ways of interacting with space and form with every visit. By occupying what is often considered to be an authoritative cultural space, his forms may appear certain in their status as ‘art objects’ within the gallery, but they are bringing into question the space itself and reflecting on the histories of modernist sculpture which are entangled with contemporary art spaces and practice. CoCA, with its long history in Ōtautahi and an institution which has found its place in Robinson’s own career as a Fine Art student and now as a practicing artist, seems like an appropriate setting for these conversations. The thoughts which arise from spending time amongst Fieldwork are not always coherent, but nor do they have to be. As a visitor, any frustration at this incoherence or the caution with which you have to move throughout the space and be constantly alert is undercut by the sense of playfulness of being caught in a perpetual game of hide-and-seek with his sculptures.

[1] The ‘white cube’ model has become the most common method of displaying modern and contemporary art in the Western museological tradition. It is often characterised by galleries with white walls, even lighting, ample room between artworks, and offers minimal descriptive information about the works on display. Its supposed neutrality has been (and continues to be) heavily critiqued, however, the ideology of the white cube remains pervasive today. For a detailed discussion into the development of the white cube as a display format please see Brian O’Doherty’s essay “Notes on the Gallery Space” in his book: Inside the White Cube: The Ideology of the Gallery Space. Available here: http://arts.berkeley.edu/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/arc-of-life-ODoherty_Brian_Inside_the_White_Cube_The_Ideology_of_the_Gallery_Space.pdf

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Precarious Nature - Air Pollution

This weeks blog is inspired by London based artist Dryden Goodwin. Dryden is a British artist whose works often encompass intricate drawings in combination with photography and live action video. He creates films, gallery installations, projects in public space, etchings, works on-line and soundtracks. His works practise reflects of the ethical dimensions of looking at the world and beyond. Dryden’s work Breathe is currently being showcased in our exhibition Precarious Nature here at Toi Moroki Centre of Contemporary Art .

Dryden Goodwin’s Breathe is an animation of over 1,300 pencil drawings of his five year old son, inhaling and exhaling. The boy progresses through fluctuating breathing patterns, at some moments regular, and at others more laboured as he stares out from the frame. Through emphasising the physicality of the act of breathing it the work draws attention to the vulnerability of children, whose developing respiratory systems are is most at risk from pollution, and who will live with the long term physical and environmental effects of our current lifestyles.

This work is taking a critical stance on air pollution and air quality, particularly in London, but it also has significance for us here in Ōtautahi. London, a much larger and condensed city, is the one of the most polluted cities in Europe, with it costing the population approximately £2 billion annually. The air pollution in London is so uncontrollable that it has been shown to cause more premature deaths than both smoking and traffic incidents combined. 

The guideline for pm10 in Ōtautahi had been exceeded an average of thirty times a last year, whilst the carbon monoxide guideline is often exceeded ten times a year. Similarly to Christchurch, London has consistently exceeded its yearly limits of PM10 emissions and nitrogen dioxide. An article released 6 days into 2017 reported that London has already breached its annual air pollution limit for the year, which highlights how toxic the air pollution is in the highly condensed city. 

Image Source:  Putney High Street on 3 January 2017

Air pollution in Ōtautahi (Christchurch) is the worst in Aotearoa New Zealand, with majority of it coming from domestic use of wood and coal burning for heating. The impacts of air pollution are not only damaging on the environment, but also people’s well-being and health - in particular, children. Clean air is made up of approximately 78% Nitrogen, 20% Oxygen, .9% Argon and .03% carbon dioxide. When the air is polluted, the levels of toxins increase, which increase the likelihood of morbidity and mortality. Pm10, also known as particulate matter, is a particle that comes in a variety of sizes and has the ability to travel deep into your lung. People in areas less socioeconomically advantaged are more likely to live next to hazardous sites in comparison to those in areas that are socioeconomically advantaged - this is often referred to as environmental racism.

Environmental racism is a type of discrimination that is closely tied to residential segregation, where people who are of low-income or minority communities are more likely to live or be forced to live in areas that are in close proximity to hazardous sites and toxic waste due to race, class and gender. These areas have much higher levels of air pollution, with people, particularly children having ongoing health implications because of it. As mentioned, children and infants are much more vulnerable to the risks of morbidity due to air pollution. The effects that high levels of air pollution can have on children are often long lasting, and can decrease the quality and length of a persons life. The risks associated with air pollution include the increased likelihood of strokes, asthma, cancer, wheezing, bronchitis, reduced lung development, high blood pressure, arteriosclerosis and heart attacks.

Above is a map highlighting the geographic distribution of PM2.5 air pollution levels at a global scale. The full sized interactive map can be found here where you can zoom into countries or cities you are curious about. It also allows you to see where the dirtiest power plants are situated. Along with this, it gives you a more in depth explanation of what Particular Matter is (PM) and the harmful effects it can have on peoples health and wellbeing. 

Some Ōtautahi Christchurch based not-for-profit organizations we are working with include 350.org and Generation Zero. 350 Christchurch are a local group of volunteers committed to taking action on climate change. Generation Zero is a nationwide movement of young New Zealanders working together to get our country on the path towards a zero carbon future.

350.org focuses on the wider social and economic changes we now urgently need to tackle climate disruption. They are a global grassroots climate movement that can hold our leaders accountable to the realities of science and the principles of justice. Their core goals include hitting the 90% renewable energy by 2025, cute green house emissions, improve insulation levels and many others. Generation Zero is a nationwide movement of young New Zealanders working together to get our country on the path towards a zero carbon future. They campaign for smarter transport and urban planning, and independence from fossil fuels. Both organizations have a central goal of New Zealand becoming less or completely independent from fossil fuels as it is a major factor in carbon emissions and our high levels of air pollution. You can support them by going to their website and signing petitions, donating or volunteering

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Precarious Nature - Urban Gardening

This week on the blog we have Christchurch based artist Zina Swanson. Zina is  known for investigating and interrogating the relationship between humans, their surrounding environments and the natural world. Her work Plants from the sale table is exhibited in Precarious Nature. The specimens in Plants from the sale table have been sourced from the 'reduced to clear' stands in large DIY stores around Ōtautahi Christchurch.

A few generations ago, we would have swapped cuttings from our back gardens to propagate new plants, and faithfully stored seeds from each crop for the next rotation. It was survival to grow your own food. But times have changed, especially for city dwellers. Rental properties may not allow gardening, our urban populations are more dense and land is scarce. Resources to create gardens and the knowledge of how to do so have been restricted and monetised. Now, if we are lucky enough to be able to afford both the time and cash resources to garden, more often than not, we buy good soil from plastic bags and garden in pots with little thought to permaculture that might sustain us better.

In saying that, there have been efforts to create a cultural shift to get us ‘back to basics’ with gardening of late. Timely, as global politics sit precariously and so much of our food is now imported. New World supermarket’s ‘Little Garden’ promotion, for example, where one receives a tiny, biodegradable pot, dehydrated soil and seeds to start off your vegetable garden have been a great hit. A mere $40 worth of groceries gets you one pot and the scheme has been lauded as a positive move away from their previous, plastic collectables. However, the campaign is only accessible to a certain class, and the wait time on maturation for many of these seeds is 60-90 days; if they sprout at all. Gardening is a commitment. It remains to be seen if this campaign will inspire a future generation of gardeners so used to instant satisfaction. 

It’s not all bad however - There are lots of movements to help people get back in touch with plants and the land. Organisations such as the Canterbury Community Gardens Association are able to direct you to the closest community garden in your area. In Canterbury alone there are almost 30 community gardens for you to get involved in. They envision to  “Strengthen and nurture existing community gardens, and support new initiatives, in order to build strong communities and encourage these by respecting and fostering human and environmental diversity.” 

Another organisation that aims to Employ, Educate and Regenerate is Trees for Canterbury. They are strongly linked to the local community, providing environmental education, providing native plants and undertaking planting’s with community organisations and schools throughout Canterbury. Trees For Canterbury uses recycled materials -  this often includes the use of “old greenhouses, hessian pretending to be shade cloth – all features of a shoestring budget in combination with a recycling ethic.” To get involved or donate to the non-for-profit organisation you can click here to view their website or like their Facebook page here. 

As well as supporting these local initiatives, there are also an abundance of farmers markets during the weekend in Canterbury which allow you to buy local and to support local businesses. These include the Christchurch Farmers Market, Lyttelton Farmers Market and the Opawa Farmers Market.

Above we have a video that gives tips on how to maintain and sustain an urban vegetable garden. This includes information on fertilizer, planting your seeds or plants and taking care of your garden in an urban environment. 

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Precarious Nature - Solastalgia and the decline of our endemic species

This week we take inspiration from the work of artist Hayden Fowler. Born in Te Awamutu, New Zealand and now currently based in Sydney, Fowler’s work explores humanity’s relationship with the natural world and the broader historical and cultural concepts that influence this engagement. He often touches on themes involving desire, freedom, loss and ‘the romantic hope for a return to nature’. His work New World Order, 2013, is currently exhibited in Precarious Nature.

In New World Order, a series of sliding vignettes show exotic, peculiar birds perched in grey woodland. Preening and calling, these are rare heritage breed chickens, their unusual plumages markedly different to the domestic fowl. The scene is bleak, inducing and engaging with Solastalgia, a term coined by the philosopher Glenn Albrecht, which describes the sense of helplessness and distress induced by the loss of our environment, natural ecosystems and biodiversity. This work also draws on contemporary discussions around ecological destruction, genetic modification and the alienation of an increasingly urban society from the natural environment. These themes inspire this week’s blog. 

Our Gallery Coordinator, Jennifer Shields was lucky enough to attend Hayden’s talk here at CoCA. Below is a short text she has written about the work.

“Hayden Fowler's New World Order is so incredibly immersive and realistic that it was not until his artist talk late last year that I realised it was a set, painstakingly crafted in his Sydney studio. At the same time, however, the landscape depicted seems so alien that I found myself, when watching the work beforehand, wondering where the hell on earth it could possibly have been filmed. Everything is incredibly grey and hazy, and the chickens so varied and obviously pedigree that I thought of some farm or reserve in the days immediately after a forest fire.”

Solastalgia: a sense of helplessness and distress induced by the loss of our environment, natural ecosystems and biodiversity

Anne Finegan’s text Solastalgia and its Cure delves deeper into the meaning of Solastalgia. In it, she states, “The cure for solastalgia lies in reconnecting or recreating the community of the commons - cultural and natural resources of the land, water air etc.”  The full text is definitely worth a read can be found here.

The emergence of Solastalgia is linked to the Anthropocene; a a new epoch in earth's geological timeline. The Anthropocene refers to a phase in the earth lifecycle where all aspects of the earth’s systems are greatly influenced by human induced activity. Above is a video which explains how we have got to this stage in the earth lifecycle and why. This video touches on neoliberalism, industrialised capitalism and climate change. 

Image Source

In Aotearoa, we have lost 42 percent of our terrestrial birds since human settlement 700 years ago; 57 species have gone extinct (read more here). The strange birds in Fowler’s work are heritage breed chickens, domesticated birds which have travelled with humans around the world. Their bizarre appearances in the landscape of his work make them seem alien, imaginary; the landscape could be a future where naturally occurring evolution doesn’t exist, and only breeds selected by humans continue. Maybe these breeds we create will outlast us. 

With the continuing process of mass industrialisation and intensive land clearing, there is still pressure on the survival of our remaining native birds. Changes in habitat, climate change, draining and clearing of wetlands for agriculture, and predation by possums, stoats and rats all threaten vulnerable populations.  

Forest and Bird is a long standing non-for-profit organisation here in Aotearoa, they have been around since 1923 and have helped establish protection for a third of our country’s land in parks and reserves, put an end to logging of our native forests and helped bring species such as the kakapo and kokako back from the brink of extinction. To support the work they do for our native birds and natural environment you can donate to their organisation here or like them on Facebook to get updates of events they are holding. Or if you would rather get involved with the great work they are doing around the country, you can sign up to be a volunteer here. 

Climate change will and is having a large impact on the livelihood and survival rates or our native birds. Forest & Bird are currently holding events surrounding the Paris Agreement in lieu of the incoming Climate Change Minister - Paula Bennet. Forest & Bird have stated, “Paula Bennett, the incoming climate change minister, has a big challenge to match the ambition of the Paris Agreement by increasing New Zealand’s efforts to prevent climate disruption”. You can find out more about it here and can also check out their upcoming events here. 

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Precarious Nature -  Resource extraction and indigenous peoples

This weeks blog is inspired by artist Taloi Havini. Taloi is of the Nakas clan, Hakö People. She was born in 1981 Arawa, Autonomous Region of Bougainville and emigrated to Australia in 1990. She lives and works in Melbourne, Sydney and Buka. As an interdisciplinary artist, her practice centres on the deconstruction of the politics of location, and the intergenerational transmission of Indigenous Knowledge Systems. Her triptych Sami and the Panguna Mine from the Blood Generation series is currently exhibited in Precarious Nature.

 In her research, Taloi engages with living cultural practitioners and Oceanian material collections and archives. She often responds to these experiences and sites of investigation with experimental ceramic installations, print, photographic and video, making both solo and collaborative works. The Blood Generation are the children born into and following the civil war over land in Taloi’s native Bourgainville. Buka youth are documented in their landscape, by Taloi and photographer Stuart Miller, including in the devastated area around the Panguna mine. The series depicts the ravages of open-cut mining, as well as the deep connection to land that her people have; their cultural resilience in the face of colonisation and government-sanctioned forced removal from their ancestral homelands. 

The triptych Sami and the Panguna Mine revisits the time when Sami’s aunties and other women landowners in Bougainville stood against mining on their land. Women leaders are still fighting to be heard on the unresolved issues of social, economic and environmental impacts of reopening the mine. They reject agreements which saddle them to the original PNG 1988 Mining Act, in which there is no acknowledgement of women landowners

Colonisation and Capitalism have played a hefty role in the exploitation of indigenous land over the past 500 years up until today. Talal Asad (1991) states, “It tells of European imperial dominance not as a temporary repression of subject populations, but as an irrevocable process of transmutation, in which old desires and ways of life were destroyed and new ones took their place” (p.314). 

The University of Otago published Maori and Mining in 2013; a document which looks at the way “Māori have responded to the issue of mining in three main ways: as an economic opportunity, provided that there are environmental safeguards; as a discussion around Treaty rights; or as an environmental issue requiring strong opposition in order to carry out traditional and enduring relationships with Papatūānuku, Tangaroa and future generations.” - Page 4. 

They assert that the issues facing Māori are the issues facing all Indigenous peoples globally.

Close to home: Oil exploration

Earlier this year an article was released announcing that a large area off the coast of Canterbury as well as large coastal areas surrounding the North Island will be offered for oil and gas exploration. The image above shows some of the proposed sites. The risk of oil and gas exploration is tremendous, not only does it threaten our natural environments and coastlines, it places immense pressure on sea life and marine environments. It also threatens traditional food gathering sites and areas of spiritual significance to mana whenua.  

A local not-for-profit organisation called Oil Free Otautahi is fighting back against government pressures to engage in deep sea oil drilling around our coast. Oil Free Otautahi is a Christchurch based organisation dedicated to stopping dangerous deep sea oil drilling in New Zealand waters. They have been around since 2011, organising events such as the Christchurch version of Hands Across the Sand. They often hold protests, workshops, meetings, as well as educating people about the dangers of oil drilling not only in Aotearoa but at a global scale. For more information about their organisation and how you can join the cause, you can visit their Facebook page here. 

Drilling for oil, gas and minerals is a global issue. A more recent, well known example of this happening is the North Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL). The North Dakota Access Pipeline starts in North Dakota and travels south-east towards Iowa. The pipeline runs through an ancient burial ground, which is sacred to the Sioux as it holds ancestral ties. Protests have been occurring around the country, with almost daily protests on the Standing Rock Reservation in North Dakota. Not only does this pipeline run through ancient burial sites, it also poses environmental risks such as the poisoning of water, soil and air. In an article posted 12th December 2016, it was reported that 1760,000 gallons of crude oil had leaked into a creek not far from the protest grounds. For more information on what is happening in North Dakota and how you can help you can check out Rezpect our Water who have an abundance of information and petitions you can sign. 

Below is a video that was posted in this article here, of a Native American women (Anishinaabe), Winona LaDuke discussing why we need to move on from Fossil Fuels, the Sandpiper Pipeline and why some tribes have been forced into cooperating and depending on the fossil fuel industry for economic stability. 

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Precarious Nature - Glacier Retreat

This week’s blog is inspired by Glacial Creep - Haupapa Tasman Glacier (2016) (stills above courtesy the artist), by Tim Knowles - a U.K based artist living and working between London and Bristol. His works seek to understand the natural systems of the earth through drawing and visual media.  Tim’s work allows the audience to critically engage with the earths natural systems and understand how fragile it is to changes from external forces. For Precarious Nature, Tim created a new work called Glacial Creep, which captured his traverse down the Haupapa - Tasman Glacier through thousands of images taken on a custom made digital pinhole camera. 

Glaciers are an important component in the global ecosystem,  intrinsically linked with the water cycle. They are formed by layers of snow, which are compressed over thousands of years and driven downward under their own weight. Their behaviour influences ocean- atmosphere circulation, sea level, landscape, and climate. In recent years, these rivers of ice have become a key signifier for anthropogenic climate change; glaciers have been documented in rapid retreat worldwide. Glaciers store about 75% of the world’s fresh water, and cover about 10% of the land. If all land ice melted, sea levels would rise approximately 70 meters (230 feet) worldwide.

New Zealand’s glaciers are no exception to the global trend. In the video above, generated by Victoria university, a time lapse shows the retreat of Te Moeka o Tuawe/Fox Glacier in the span of one year from January 2014 to January 2015. The Haupapa Tasman Glacier which Tim Knowles traversed has lost 6km length and approximately 200 metres in height in the past 25 years. Fluctuations in the length of our glaciers have been linked to El Nino Southern Oscillation (ENSO), which is a naturally occurring process that alters hemispheric ocean-atmosphere temperatures and patterns. Although this is a significant factor, the overall reduction in length is attributed to anthropogenic climate change in the twentieth and twenty first century. 

The images are above are taken in 2008 (first) and 2012 (second) of the Kā Roimata o Hine Hukatere/Franz Josef Glacier in Aotearoa. This image is from this article released in 2012 outlining the rapid retreat of one of the most significant glaciers in our country. The image below shows the differing levels of retreat in the past 10 years of the Te Moeka o Tuawe/Fox Glacier from 2005 to 2015. 

Ice caps and glaciers are melting around the world. On Tuesday 13th December 2016 the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) released a report highlighting that “unprecedented warming air temperature in 2016 over the Arctic contributed to a record-breaking delay in the fall sea ice freeze-up, leading to extensive melting of Greenland ice sheet and land-based snow cover.” This is exceptionally frightening as the older and thicker ice in the Arctic is melting at a much more rapid pace than younger ice. Older ice is no longer living out its expected life span of up to nine years. For more information and visual resources on this recent report you can check out the media releases here and here.

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Greening the Rubble - Planters outside CoCA

Last week Greening the Rubble installed planters outside CoCA and LUX cafe. Greening the Rubble (GtR) is a charitable trust that grew after the Canterbury earthquakes. GtR creates and maintains temporary public parks on cleared sites in Christchurch. Each garden contributes to the rejuvenation of our city and is a positive, green sign of recovery! They have many other projects propped around the city including, Xeriscape, Kua Hua Ake Te Ao and Herbal Dispensary.

The wicking planters are made from recycled timber and are planted with endemic native species found on Banks peninsula and the Canterbury plains. We designed the planters to reference the benches inside Lux cafe mirroring the vertical curves. Wicking planters are self contained with built in reservoirs that supply water from the bottom up - meaning that you only need to water infrequently. Water is drawn upwards from the reservoir via natural soil osmosis or through the roots of plants in the bed.

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Precarious Nature - Sea Level Rise

This week on the blog we consider one of the issues Melissa Macleod’s work addresses: Sea level change. Melissa is a Christchurch based artist living in New Brighton - a suburb that has been substantially effected by rising sea levels. Her recent works Drill and Weight examine these issues surrounding the Eastern Christchurch community where she lives, and the psychological impact of impending waters. 

Drill, relocates a snapshot of what is practised at South New Brighton School; students completing an emergency drill. This is a very necessary and basic response to the recent earthquakes and potential of tsunami. Where as Weight, explores a further layer in connection with the sea and coastal existence. Determined by capturing tidal water that overflows the gutters, Weight responds to the effects of lowered land (post earthquakes) and increasing sea levels.

Melissa Macleod and Habitat for Humanity are giving a talk tomorrow, 10 December, at CoCA, 2pm - Free. 

The video above gives an idea of what coastal areas around the globe will look like in the case of all of the Arctic and Antarctic ice sheets melting. Radio New Zealand also has an article and podcast, which highlights the risk of rising sea levels in Kiribati and Tuvalu in the Pacific where the United Nations warns could be completely submerged within decades. 

Sea level rise is a great threat to Aotearoa, global increases of greenhouse gas emissions and temperature rise have resulted in an increase of polar ice sheet melt and prompted the rise of global sea levels. Sea level rising is a very recent issue, as we have not faced this problem prior to industrialisation. It has been predicted that ice loss from Greenland and the West Antarctic ice sheets is the most prominent source of sea level rise in the Twenty First Century. And within the coming years many islands in the Pacific will likely become the first victims to sea level rising. In the past 100 years New Zealand has seen an average sea level rise of at least 1.6mm a year and is continuously doing so. For us in Christchurch, we will feel the effects of sea level rise quite substantially due to land subsidence across the city from the 2010 and 2011 earthquakes. The land has been estimated to have dropped from at least 0.1 metres to over 0.5 metres in some areas. The risks and hazards that stem from sea level rise and land subsidence include the increased risk of flooding and shoreline retreat in low lying areas, such as New Brighton, South Shore and Sumner. This has been associated with greater risks and frequency of extreme tidal levels, and increased levels of rainfall. This will have a damaging effect on the surrounding community’s social and cultural ties with the coastal area due to loss of land and livelihoods.

Here we have an interactive map which allows you to see to see the effects of sea level rise of up to 60 metres around the world as pictured below. 

In the case of a 25 metre sea level rise in Aotearoa, Banks peninsula would no longer be attached to the South Island, as shown in the image below. For more information on rising sea levels in New Zealand you can view this report from the Parliamentary Commission for the Environment released in November 2015 which highlights different aspects of sea level rise and how we are adapting and preparing for it. 

Source

Below is a video from NASA about sea level rise: 

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Precarious Nature - Bee Population Decline

Our second blog is inspired by Anne Noble’s work No Vertical Song and Bruissement  #10  #11, which are being showcased in our current exhibition Precarious Nature. Anne’s work engages with contemporary environmental issues such as the decline of global bee populations, and our relationship to land and place.

Her work encourages us to think about the rise of global bee population decline - reminding us of how fragile and dependant we are on food production that rely on bees and other pollinating insects. It also discusses how monoculture industrial agriculture, the use of pesticides and climate change are having adverse effects on our biodiversity and ecosystems. 

Since the 1990’s there has been a dramatic decline in honeybee populations across the globe. Honeybees play a vital role in sustaining our ecosystem as they pollinate ⅓  of the fruit and vegetables in our diet. The consequences of the decline of the honeybee are astronomical for food production and our global food web as they not only sustain our food production, but also the food that we use to feed livestock. In a report released in 2015 it was noted that many bee colonies in the Coromandel had been declining, with an estimated loss of up to 65% of their crop production. This is alarming as this had not been a problem for beekeepers in New Zealand in previous years.

Greenpeace currently has a petition that you can sign here to show your support in aiding the repopulation of bee colonies and the banning of bee killing pesticides. For more information on bee population decline you can check out Ted Talks, which has a great playlist of videos on bees, the Greenpeace website and the pamphlet below.  

Thank you to Torfrida Wainwright from 350 for the leaflet below

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Precarious Nature - Oil Dependencies and Disasters

Welcome to our first blog discussion of the environmental issues that the artists from Precarious Nature are exploring in their work. 

This week, we’re looking to Alex Monteith’s work, which often explores the political dimensions of culture engaged in turmoil over land ownership, history and occupation. Her work, Rena Shipping Container Disaster, (2011-ongoing, pictured above, photo: Daniela Aebli) is being showcased in our current exhibition Precarious Nature, and as the title suggests, it was filmed during the Rena Disaster during 2011 and 2012. 

The work engages with the difficulty of cleaning up after an oil spill, serving as a reminder of the difficulty of containing a limited fuel spill, especially when there is so much interest in oil exploration of our tectonically active coast. The disruption of Mahinga Kai, the local ecosytems on which we’re reliant, was huge.  

Greenpeace has more information on their website about these issues, you can watch the video below, and you can sign their petition against deep sea drilling here. 

Rena Disaster:

October the 5th 2011 marks the date that the MV Rena collided into the Astrolabe Reef, 22 kilometres away from the coastal area of Mt Maunganui in the Bay of Plenty, Aotearoa. On board, there was a total of 1733 tonnes of oil, of which 1300 tonnes was spilt into the surrounding coastal area. The worst spill from the vessel occurred on the 11th October, just under a week after the initial spill. The clean up effort included a team of 500, employed from the New Zealand Defence Force and 8000 volunteers from the Volunteer Engagement Team. The clean up efforts lasted at least 1 month, starting on the 9 October until the 15 November. This included manually combing the beach for lumps of oil/sediment mixtures, which were then bagged and taken off site. The spill has had significant effects on the biological communities, marine life and the physical environment, but also the social and cultural ties with the land and sea.

Click here to listen to Alex talking about her experience of documenting this event. 

Each day, hundreds of similar shipping containers are travelling around the globe. The website Shipmap shows the movement of global cargo routes in 2012. The interactive map allows you to see statistics such as CO2 emissions, (in thousand tonnes) the maximum freight carried by each of the vessels (varying units) and the varying ship types. 

Shipmap was created by London-based data visualisation studio Kiln and the UCL Energy Institute 

There are lots of great local initiatives you can get involved with such as Oil Free Ōtautahi,  350 Christchurch and Generation Zero, who are actively finding ways to challenge the oil industry and lobbying for change. Check out their contributions to Precarious Nature in the Ground Floor Gallery, and see their websites for more detailed information on what they do. 

350, Oil Free Ōtautahi and Greenpeace worked together to install this amazing banner on our gallery. It’s been taken down due to high winds but may make another appearance. 

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Precarious Nature- Extended Network

Throughout Precarious Nature we are working with many local not-for-profit organizations and we will be sharing the great work that they do on the blog every week. Stay tuned for more!

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Precarious Nature- The issues

Each week on the blog we will also be writing on issues related to specific works in the gallery. Keep an eye out for the first one this week

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Structures of brick and quiet undertones: Considering Contemporary Christchurch  - Jennifer Katherine Shields

Rob Hood, Erosion Problems II, (2016). Photo: Daniela Aebli 

Contemporary Christchurch is the inaugural iteration of a survey exhibition which aims to capture a moment or feeling of what art practice has been like in Ōtautahi in the past three years; CoCA plans to run this exhibition triennially during Director Paula Orrell’s Tenure.

Artists in this exhibition were suggested by a curatorial panel of artists and curators from the region, and then Paula Orrell approached the artists to discuss possible works. There is intentionally no unifying theme or aesthetic, and the artists included range in medium, generation, identity, and process. This, along with the fact that many works have been exhibited before, has drawn criticism. But there is a worth in exhibiting works that have been shown before, especially in post-quake Christchurch where exhibition spaces have been dispersed across the city and do not often draw large public crowds. There is also a worth in showing a diverse range of artists that don’t seem to sit together at first glance; in placing works next to each other or in the same space, you create a context; the works speak to, reflect off and relate to one another. Themes, commonalities, concepts and politics emerge. Even in this exhibition, with its wide range of artworks, artists with varying approaches to their practice, with different backgrounds and identities and artistic interests, the context becomes apparent.

The context of this city in 2016 is irremovable from earthquake recovery, but the tone of that context has moved from shock and mourning to exploring the potential of the rebuild as well as frustration with that process. In terms of art, there is plenty of opportunity for public work both temporary and permanent, but gallery and studio space is limited, especially for early-career artists. Leases on central spaces are at a premium, and the kind of cheap temporary lease due to an oncoming demolition - like we’ve seen at Snake Pit in Auckland, for example - do not exist. Spaces are either already demolished or too dangerous to use. This has necessarily changed how artists are working in Christchurch - there is a strong culture of collaboration, not only in creating art but in creating spaces to work and exhibit. Artists have had to make space work for them, and there has been a proliferation of art created in vacant spaces in the past few years. However, with both Christchurch Art Gallery and CoCA reopening, there is a sense of a return to the white cube, and the luxury of that context has become apparent. To me, a thriving art scene involves many spaces for students and recent graduates to exhibit, both by themselves and alongside established artists - and this remains difficult in Christchurch. By including younger emerging artists such as Nina Oberg Humphries, Ana Iti, and Daegan Wells in Contemporary Christchurch, Toi Moroki is continuing its historical mandate as the Canterbury Society of Arts of supporting local artists; encouraging and enabling an emerging artist scene to develop and flourish.  Placing these emerging artists as peers alongside more established artists such as Pauline Rhodes, Scott Flanagan, and Jacquelyn Greenbank not only gives them validity, but also allows for the works in the exhibition to speak cross-generationally.

The earthquake and rebuild process - ‘EQ art’, as I’ve been calling it - remains one of the most significant topics or concepts to work with. I personally was not living in Christchurch in the years immediately post-quake, but from what I have heard, there was understandably a deluge of work about the quakes and the recovery. This is still a running theme within the community, but focus has shifted to the rebuild, the recovery, and frustrations with the process.

The works in Contemporary Christchurch that engage with the quake also deal with other ideas, as well as interacting with the other, non-EQ artworks that surround them. I think this gives them depth and layers, and from what I have gathered speaking to artists and patrons that were in Christchurch for that flood of earthquake art, it seems to make them more interesting and relatable - they are not just about the quake.

Louise Palmer’s 90 Canon (a series of empty rooms) (2016) (pictured above) is a good place to start. Her images of her own home, now demolished, with sculptural interventions throughout the architecture, reflects current media coverage of the recovery process - stories about the rebuild and EQC claims and bureaucratic frustrations. The interventions themselves reveal otherwise hidden layers that have become visible throughout the rebuild; pipes beneath the floor, for example. Her artist text that accompanies the works captures the feeling behind the work well:

For some time in Christchurch conversation would inevitably turn to our houses, structures of brick, concrete and timber, repositories of memory. Acronyms and codes signalled the extent of damage and whether to rebuild, repair, demo, restore. I carefully recorded every crack, every split, every broken piece of furniture, of crockery and glassware. I wrapped my grandfather’s shattered crystal glasses in newspaper and stored them in a box in the garage. Other boxes are now stacked in the garage of another house; the weight of things with which we surround ourselves, and which five years later are partly forgotten.

Daegan Wells’ work, Sutton’s Garden (2016) (detail pictured below) speaks of home and the rebuild process, but also of frustration. He has been collecting artifacts from the Red Zone through his sculptural and archival practice. Through this process he unwittingly came across W.A. Sutton’s former home and studio, one of the few buildings left standing in a large expanse of land that has been flattened and turned into an empty, grassed landscape. Like many other buildings in Christchurch, the home studio is trapped in conflict between the Earthquake Commission and Heritage New Zealand. The form of the work is almost in opposition to the frustrations it represents; calming footage and thoughtfully composed black and white silver gelatine prints of Sutton’s garden.

Downstairs, in the lower gallery, Rob Hood has a different approach to the frustrations with the rebuild process. His work Erosion Problems II (2016) uses humour and play to express the absurdism in what many see as a ridiculously slow, bureaucratic process. The Banks Peninsula volcanic rock left sandwiched between a sack barrow and a cooling fan, a blue jacket or lab coat draped over it all speaks to forgetfulness, a nonsensical job left undone.

The specific use of volcanic rock speaks to another thread that runs through a number of works in the exhibition - the notion of earth, of land, of space. Louise Palmer’s text once again makes this explicit:

A core was drilled from the ground in front of and then behind the house… Sections of the strata were carefully recorded, numbered and placed into crisp white archive boxes. Topsoil, soft silt, clay, peat, firm silt, dense sand, coarse gravel. Layers of time, of history revealed.

Land as it relates to time and history relates heavily to the work of Ana Iti, whose piece First, they chose a name (2016) (pictured below) includes a piece of Halswell quarry stone. Stone from this quarry was integral to the construction of many early colonial buildings in Christchurch, many of which either did not survive the quake or have been demolished since; colonial architecture being one of the focusses of Ana’s recent body of work. The stone is engraved with the word ‘Karaitiana’, an early name for Christchurch, being a transliteration of the word Christchurch.

Adjacent to this space and these works is one of Steve Carr’s two works in this exhibition, Bubble Cactus (2015). His works are unique here in that they are in totally separate spaces from one another; appropriate considering that while similar, they deal with slightly different concepts in different tones. Bubble Cactus is found footage from a Phantom HD camera, known for its capability for extremely high frame rates. The footage is of a cactus popping a bubble, stretched from 30 seconds out to 10 minutes and 42 seconds. Commentary on media and technology is a common motif in Carr’s work; this piece referencing film speed, linking to film and TV; for example nature documentaries speeding up growth of plants or decay of flesh, or sports events replaying and slowing down a moment to reveal the precise sequence of events. Carr ‘makes visible the invisible’, in this case literally, exploring how technology is used to reveal ‘intimate details of how the world works’.

Ana’s piece also works with the notion of making visible the invisible, questioning the politics and power of naming. The accompanying audio recording of the artist speaking goes into detail of how Christchurch was ‘named’ by colonists, beginning with the line “there is a power in naming things,” a concept that underpins the whole work. Ana aims to make visible the invisible by questioning the idea that a name is natural, apolitical. The power to name things rests within the dominant class - they name what is ‘other’; they came to this land and named what was already named.

Ana also emphasises the relationship between name and identity, particularly in the audio recording, speaking about her own family name: “Our name Iti doesn’t belong to us, but none the less we were given it and lived with it… / Our sister was an Iti and she died an Iti”. Her recent work at North Projects (1) as well as First, they chose a name explores the difficulty of navigating a Māori identity within Western colonial knowledge systems, made explicit once again in the audio: “How should you navigate identity when even your name is troubling?”

Underneath the concept of rebuild frustration in Wells’ install is another approach to his work, one of identity. Included in the install is one of Sutton's portraits, Portrait of Peter Young (pictured below, installed at CoCA). Painted in 1955, it is one of his less significant works, resting on the wall of his home for 45 years before being bequeathed to Christchurch Art Gallery on his death. These are two reasons for its selection in this install - that it was easy to acquire on loan, and that it clearly had some personal significance to Sutton. 

Often referred to as a 'constant bachelor', there is the beginnings of a rumour of Sutton's queerness, 'bachelor' being common code for queer men throughout history. Daegan is almost the sole perpetrator of this rumor, having his practice recently described in the Listener as a 'queering of Sutton's work'. During an exhibition at Blue Oyster about Sutton's home, a friend of the artist suggested very subtly to his queerness; the Christchurch Art Gallery archive of Sutton's work and belongings contains many photos of half naked men. The queer aspect of the install is intentionally only a quiet undertone, reflecting Sutton's possible closeted identity; considering the historical context and homosexuality being a crime for much of his life, there is a tricky question of ethics to the work. Like Ana says, there is a power in naming, a power in acknowledging and recognising our queer forebears. But also there is a question of whether it is appropriate to place a label on someone who did not outwardly identify with that label. So, the portrait is included but no mention is made to the possible queer history, and to many - initially myself included - it flies under the radar (2).

The wall text for Wells’ work refers to the red zone land as ‘unoccupied’, an interesting choice of wording considering the install is right next to Ana’s work, so heavily steeped in post-colonial politics. This creates an interesting sense of tension between the two pieces. Ana herself draws a strong connection between this tension and both artists’ practices: 

“the idea that my practice and work exists in this post-colonial landscape seems fundamental but I’m not sure that that idea is pervasive with other practitioners or even CoCA as an institution. Both our works delve into personal territories where queer histories are often swept under the rug, which is the same ‘out of site/sight, out of mind’ rhetoric that people have about our colonial history.” (3)

Nina Oberg Humphries, recently studying at Ilam, also explores identity in her contribution, a series of photographic portraits of her family with high gloss, sculptural frames (pictured below). The choice to show photographs is interesting, considering she majored in sculpture. Being of Cook Island and Pākehā descent, her work combines traditional Polynesian art forms with elements of pop culture. The frames are a good example of this, being a pine base with traditional adornments that could be read as kitsch: plastic flowers and palm trees covered in resin and automotive paint, giving that poppy, high gloss finish. Alongside this look though, they have all been hand cast by the artist herself - they are unique artworks themselves. This combination of tradition with pop could be read as a commentary on the commercialisation and exploitation of Pacific cultures; the selling of kitschy commercialised versions of traditional materials being a good example.

In the same space as these works is a sculptural piece by Pauline Rhodes, Towards the Light (2016) (detail pictured below). Known for two forms of environmental sculptural work; outdoor minimal interventions in the landscape and indoor installations in gallery spaces, her work in this exhibition is the latter. The two forms are linked, however, the indoor works being conceptually related and often referencing the outdoor works. Her works are simple and elegant, the minimal elements responding and referring to places or things, only ever lightly and delicately touching one another. This simple, elegant form ties in nicely with Ana’s adjacent work, also characterised by being simple but striking. The series of rods in Towards the Light point towards the north end of the gallery, filled with natural light, in which a large bundle of indigenous vegetation is piled; yet more rods, some wrapped with text and musical notation, are stacked on this pile and point upwards towards the gallery’s ceiling window. The use of indigenous vegetation is significant, especially in this space, especially being adjacent to the work of Ana and Nina - it feels referential to this specific land and space, referential to indigenous politics and notions of (de)colonisation.

Land and nature is also apparent in Rob Hood’s other works, Coupland’s Waterfall (2016) and Donald’s Pew (2016), moving back to the lower gallery again. The two works deal with parallel binaries - that of nature vs society and object vs art object. Coupland’s Waterfall is film and audio of the artificially constructed waterfall on the outside of Coupland’s Bakery in Hornby, almost an iconic site in Christchurch. The work questions how we delineate between nature and society - is this completely artificial waterfall and fish pond ‘natural’? What does it mean to have such an ‘object’ created by a business? The audio exemplifies this questioned binary well, including both the sound of water falling and the adjacent road and pedestrian crossing. The second work here, Donald’s Pew, questions the second binary: the opposition of ‘art object’ and ‘object’. Referential to Donald Judd’s work around furniture and objects, Hood realised while making both art and objects that he treated them both the same, beginning to question what delineated an art object from an object. The way gallery visitors treat Donald’s Pew highlights this; despite it being created as an ‘art object’ and being listed in the wall text as a work, people sit on it in order to watch the video work.

Questions of object run through the exhibition, returning again to Louise Palmer’s text:

The house is small and has no passages, no corridors, there’s a fluid movement from room to room. With doors open Ruby runs a circle around the house and I follow her, through each room, and around the furniture. The objects in these rooms define the space. They are markers around which we navigate our daily lives. The spaces of things. The weight of things.

This is an interesting point of reference from which to read Louise’s photos: the rooms in the photos are voided of objects, of markers of domesticity and personal identity.

Also in the lower gallery is another work that deals with object referencing identity - Jacquelyn Greenbank’s Squatch Poles (2015). With a history of working with typically ‘feminine’ craft such as knitting, these totems are comprised of found objects, recycled materials, and craft processes. The found objects are covered with leather from jackets found in op shops, speaking to a specific era, a specific kind of person, even a specific scent. Throughout her practice Greenbank has used craft to create objects, such as her series of crocheted constructions of 1950s household objects, or her 2004 piece State Carriage. The work approaches identity and craft processes with humour and a kitsch aesthetic, poking fun not only at the traditionally domestic medium but also at the identities both the medium and object signify. Squatch Poles in particular seems to reference the late 20th century Kiwi bogan aesthetic - faded leather jackets and home constructions. This theme of kitsch humour dominates the lower gallery; it is characterised by works that play, works that are humorous and absurd.

Steve Carr’s second work, Watermelon (2015) (above) plays into this notion really well. It is primarily a work of suspense and tension, organised around an absurd act - placing rubber bands around a watermelon until it pops and snaps in half. It has its origins in a commonplace Japanese children's game which Carr restaged in a residency in Sapporo, Japan. The same act was streamed live on BuzzFeed recently to a live audience of 807,000 viewers; the video has since been watched over ten million times. This formalised, gallery version removes the ability to self-satisfy by skipping to the end, increasing the tension and suspense. Carr’s motif of media commentary runs through this work too, speaking to the tension we find in film and TV - we must put the effort into this piece by patiently waiting the full 33 minutes for a split second of satisfaction. Critic Francis McWhannell, in a discussion on the New Perspectives exhibition at Artspace this year, said of video works: “video art has to work very hard to be interesting, because there’s this huge amount of often very good material available outside the art world.” Audience response to Watermelon signals its success in this aspect: on opening night there was a constant large crowd around the piece that would disperse once the watermelon popped and almost immediately re-form in the minutes after. It is an absurd act surrounded by so much tension that gives so much satisfaction, no matter how short, that people are drawn to it and compelled to stay, lest they miss that split second of satisfaction.

This could be read as a form of conditioning and a commentary on that conditioning we experience from media and technology - a concept that is explicitly present in James Oram’s video installation Pavlov’s Pockets. Simple in concept, it is a pair of denim pockets - a material consistent through the variety of works he has presented, including the bean bag that Pavlov’s Pockets rests on - that vibrate, as if phones are in them, often causing gallery goers to check their own phones, a Pavlovian conditioned reaction to the sound of a mobile notification.

Commentary on technology is a thread common to multiple works in Contemporary Christchurch. Scott Flanagan’s Wild South - Young Mountains (2016) (above) is another example, a significant work both in scale and in concept, drawing together many inspirations, themes, and theories. It is a large-scale wall of woven VHS tape paired with a sculptural installation, also consisting mostly of woven VHS. It has its origins in a feminist history of technology, focussing on women’s involvement in the development of technology, starting with Ada Lovelace (4).

It was this history that led Flanagan to weaving - first, small scale paper weavings, then small VHS weavings, and then over the decades variation in scale. They are installed now in a collaborative process - linking back to the history of collaboration in weaving and craft, typically associated with women and femininity.

Weaving also links to technology in the history of the Luddites - a term that now refers to people who are outdated and anachronistic, hating technology for no real good reason, but originally referred to a group who could be described as union activists. They were concerned about the introduction of mechanical looms and the threat they posed to the jobs of workers - a theme that is recurring today with rising automation in factories and other industries.

Wild South - Young Mountains also has a political drive behind it, though not immediately obvious. The paper weaving that is part of the sculptural installation is made up of copies of New Zealand’s anti-terrorism legislation; laws that Flanagan finds absurd and unnecessary, linking through to Ana’s work and the (de)colonial politic behind it. The paper weaving also has an almost hidden connection to quake-related art, having been stuck in a basement gallery after the earthquake stuck. When retrieved a few months later, rats had eaten holes into it. The weaving has intentionally not been repaired.

In the same room and on a similar scale, Emma Fitts’ installation Fit-out for Olivia Spencer Bower (2015) (detail pictured above) also works with craft and the notion of information as material. It is a work that seems driven by feminist thought around craft and feminine labour, domesticity, and family, linking it to other works in the exhibition - in particular, Greenbank around craft, Palmer around domesticity, and Humphries around family. It is a huge series of pieces, hanging from the ceiling of the main upstairs gallery, the first thing you see as you walk up the stairs or exit the elevator. The fabrics are hung in a way that aligns them with the architectural plan of Bower’s own home, referencing not only the specific building but the neo-brutalist architectural style it and many other buildings in Christchurch were constructed in. The house was commissioned to accommodate a female artist living alone, a nice parallel to Daegan’s work and Sutton’s bachelor home studio. Grass mats have been hung on the front of these fabric constructions, almost obscuring the front, as Melanie Oliver points out in her essay on this work in its first exhibited iteration at Ilam School of Fine Arts. By doing so, along with the way they are hung, Fitts, like Flanagan, Wells, and Iti, makes a comment on history; specifically how ‘a version of history sits behind every image’ (5). Fitts disrupts the notion of a simple viewpoint, both materially in that this work must be walked around to be viewed completely and metaphorically in that there are always alternative histories.

Right next to this installation is another series that works with size, texture, and layering - Tjalling de Vries’ series of cartoonish, gesturely, and experimental paintings Copy Card (pictured above). Coming from a multidisciplinary background, these works are almost defined by studio experimentation. Having painted on canvas and bits of billboard in his recent body of work, these pieces are on stretched translucent linen, intentionally chosen to be able to work with layering. The figures present in these works are cartoonish, drawing a link to Oram’s other pieces in the room downstairs, paintings and sculptural pieces that draw from definite cartoonish origins. De Vries also works with some of his own father’s cartoon designs, drawing a thread between this series and other works in the exhibition that deal with family, such as Humphries and, opposite this series, Tim J. Veling.

Veling has exhibited a number of photographs taken from the series D,P,O (2014-15) (installation shot below). They are intensely personal works, capturing moments spent with his father after a terminal diagnosis. They are a document of the time spent from the diagnosis to his passing, twice a day family visits. Originally presented in a short-run artist book, Veling developed over 100 rolls of film. The processing of the images was also intensely personal, using a magnifying loop to find fine focus on his father’s eyes.

Veling also presented a text, a conversation from him to his deceased father:

I kissed you on the forehead then traced the shape of a crucifix with my thumb, just like you’d always do to me when saying goodbye. I held your hand and said it was okay to pass if you wanted. With that, you drew your last breath.

Veling’s work has strong parallels to Palmer’s adjacent series: both are about a personal tragedy, out of control. Palmer’s work investigates the intersection of sculptural conventions with the personal underpinnings of an artwork, and as such the medium becomes important. Conventions of both sculpture and photography mean the latter can easier be more personal in its motivations and presentation; photography is often a more personal and intimate medium than sculpture, and these works together signify that very well.

So, despite not having a curatorial intent to create a unifying theme, the works in Contemporary Christchurch reveal similarities in practice, approach, concept, and artistic interest. Perhaps more so than if the panel and curator went out looking for works that would fit together in some unifying manner, the exhibition reveals significant commonalities that shed light on what contemporary art practice is like in Christchurch in 2016. A strong first installment of this triennial exhibition, it will be interesting to see which commonalities remain in three years time and what new ones emerge.

(1) North Projects is an artist-led gallery space that ran from August 2014 until closing at the end of September this year. Ana’s recent show there, Is the past a foreign country?, came from the same body of research as First, they chose a name and contains the same materials (Halswell quarry and spoken and written text).

(2)  The ethics of this came into play in writing this essay, as well - considering it is such an undertone, is it acceptable or even necessary to bring it up in discussion? After talking to Daegan and CoCA curators about it, and thinking not only on Daegan’s work but on Ana’s assertion that naming has power I decided there was more worth in acknowledging it despite the discomfort some in Aotearoa’s art institutions may feel.

(3) from correspondence with the artist, 2016

(4) As the tale goes, Ada spent time around mechanical looms, driven by punchcards to generate incredible patterns - supposedly this influence led her to the realisation that Charles Babbage’s Analytical Machine could be used for purposes other than crunching numbers, that the zeroes and ones of the binary system could be translated to or representational of other, more abstracted concepts.

(5) Melanie Oliver, Silk, linen, leather, denim, grass, cotton, felt. (2015)

This commissioned text is by Jennifer Katherine Shields, an artist, academic, and writer living in Ōtautahi Christchurch. Both her academic and artistic practices examine queer theory, history, sociology, and bodily issues. 

Photo Credits: Daniela Aebli

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CoCA’s class of 2016?  by Jackie Watson

Tjalling De Vries, Emma Fitts and Scott Flanagan’s works in Contemporary Christchurch. Photo: Daniela Aebli

CoCA’s Contemporary Christchurch Exhibition is a showcase of Christchurch artists who are leaving their mark on today’s local art scene, one that according to CoCA’s advertising is, “Post quake, a rich and dynamic moment.” So it’s pertinent to ask why these thirteen artists were selected to represent our post-quake city.

The panel tasked with selection are recognised as highly respected arbiters of art, so we can trust that the resulting diverse and almost disparate exhibition is of work at the cutting edge of contemporary art. 

Their selection also provides the viewer with a wide range of media and treatments in use by local artists linked only by their place of work, begging the question, which indeed CoCA asks. ‘Does place have an impact on practice?’ The answer from this selection is ‘Probably not,’ but the exhibition’s resulting diversity makes for an appealing and unique experience and, not surprisingly, confirms a move away from painting.

What paintings there are, make an impact with their casual and unconventional placement stacked along a wall. Tjalling de Vries’s series of stacked linen canvases, certainly asks questions of painting and what the viewer expects from this representational form that has become outmoded . 

De Vries and the only other painter, James Oram, are almost the bit players in the larger drama of the show for it is the video art that steals the limelight and not just as a visual medium but also as novel material for sculpture, with Scott Flanagan’s arresting installation cum sculpture. 

Placement in a gallery is an important aspect of curating a show and the decision to place Flanagan’s Wild South-Young Mountains, 2015’ on the back wall presents it as a star. And a star it is. Ingenious in his choice of materials, using VHS tape, pointedly redundant since the development of digital technology, he has woven a blanket that alludes to the beginnings of computing and its surprising connection to weaving. A clever touch in the curating is that to reach the Flanagan piece one walks through and around the textile hangings of Emma Fitts, reminding the viewer of the art to be found in fabric design, a field previously undervalued as merely ‘women’s work.’Flanagan’s woven video tape delivers a pixelated reflection that displays not only the viewers of Flanagan’s artwork as participants in the questioning of technological advancements, but also the other works in the gallery transformed into pixelated pictures.

Working in video in a more conventional way, Steve Carr uses found video footage in two works, Watermelon, 2015 and Bubble Cactus. By slowing them both down, he creates a fascinating vision, one where we, the viewer, feel totally manipulated at having to wait thirty minutes for the inevitable to happen. The viewer is trapped by the tension, waiting for the watermelon to explode as the last rubber band is placed, or for the bubble to burst, listening to the swelling soundtrack and the final visual cosmic revelation, but it’s well worth the wait.

And then there’s Nina Oberg Humphries’ delightful take on identity and migration, using frames and photography to celebrate her dual heritage of Cook Island and Pakeha, adding to the wealth of original ideas that are on show and the breadth of culture that is represented.

There’s plenty more in this show. Take your time at each offering to absorb the ideas and admire their innovative delivery.

Detail: Nina Oberg Humphries, hand cast resin, found plastic flowers, and automotive paint. 

Jackie Watson is a retired English teacher and art lover.  She worked as a Potter in the 70s and 80’s, working in stoneware fired in a self-built diesel-fired kiln; she taught pottery for 25 years. Nowadays, Jackie paints occasionally but is heavily involved in the Kaiapoi Art Expo. She manages Art On The Quay in the Ruataniwha building in Kaiapoi, which has been built since the quakes, and houses the museum and library. They hold monthly exhibitions.

Jackie has been a member of both the Waimakariri Community Arts Council and the Arts Canterbury executive for more years than she cares to remember and this year has been studying International Contemporary Art at University of Canterbury, which led her to volunteer at CoCA.

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Performance art and identity:

Participant Jennifer Katherine Shields reflects on Workshop #2

In the second workshop of the Performance Art and Identity series, we went over some practical aspects of creating a performance piece - specifically, site, its physical constraints and conceptual influences.

Using a public empty space in the CBD of Ōtautahi carries with it a lot of tensions and conceptual weight, and ties into the identity of all the performers as young people with connections to Ōtautahi in one way or other. Art has played a significant part in the revitalisation of the city, especially the inner city. It has been a constant yet shifting presence within the CBD since the quakes, alongside constantly present yet shifting construction, roadworks, and road blocks.

We focussed quite heavily on what creating a work to be performed in public, for the public means - looking at relational aesthetics and other artists who create works that give back to the public or their communities, instead of just creating a work in a studio or gallery and suddenly dropping it in a public space. I brought up Rirkrit Tiravanija and his series of works starting with Pad Thai in 1990, in which he eschewed a typical exhibition to set up a kitchen and feed the public. We also mentioned D.A.N.C.E. Art Club and Whau the People closer to home, both collectives who are intensively concerned with community and public art that gives back - via facepainting, feeding, creating a roaming radio station in the back of a truck, or an arts and culture festival exclusively showing artists and creatives from the local community, and many other ways. A similar work that comes to mind in terms of ‘giving back’ is the Crossing the Bridge exhibition and film based out in Ashburton; a project that created tangible difference in the lives of migrants to the area within the space of a few months - one participant mentioned walking down the street and being essentially ignored, not wanting a friend, just a hello; and that since the exhibition opened people began to approach her and chat, ask how she was.

We discussed amongst ourselves our desire to not just create another piece of distanced, exclusive art - something that people in the art world would ‘get’ but would have little impact or interest to the public. We discussed how performance art as a medium is often the worst culprit when it comes to exclusivity and complexity, and our desire to create a performance that is more open, more accessible, more interactive. D.A.N.C.E. Art Club’s longest straight DJ session world record attempt provided a good example here - a piece of art that the audience and community didn’t need a degree to get; a work that didn’t need to be ‘got’ at all and could be enjoyed, interacted with, participated in regardless of who you were and what your background was. The work drew volunteers from multiple communities ranging from the Auckland student art scene and Artspace’s audience (typically older, wealthier, whiter, collectors and dealers and ‘professional’ artists) to  D.A.N.C.E. Art Club’s community and church groups - tightly-knit Pasifika communities, communities that Artspace’s typical marketing did not reach. They created a work that drew from various communities and allowed everyone within those communities to engage with the work. 

That seems like a really valid goal for this workshop series - to create a piece that people can enjoy and interact with, no matter who they are.

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Performance Art and Identity Workshop

CoCA Curatorial Intern Bridget Harris reflects on the first youth workshop led by artist Audrey Baldwin

This past Saturday we had the first of four workshops with local artist Audrey Baldwin. This workshop series revolves around performance art and identity with the final outcome set to be a performance art work developed and performed by those who attend the workshops.

We opened with Audrey performing For Your Entertainment (first performed in 2015) – a piece where she sat in the centre of the room with a cone filled with popcorn covering her head. Upon walking in, we were immediately forced to interact with Audrey – or what we were able to see of her. This resulted in some fantastic discussions around the performance art, the body and identity. What did it mean that Audrey’s head was covered but her body was still visible? How did we relate this to perceptions of female identities, especially in the media?

After a chat about the history of performance art, a brief overview of several key artists and Audrey’s history in Christchurch as a performance artist, the group went on to discuss what identity meant to them, while thinking about the performance they are to put on at Spark Park on the 24th of September. Put the date in your diary!

Naturally, the discussions revolved around our identities as citizens of post-quake Christchurch and how this affects daily life in the city. The next workshop will focus in on these feelings of what it means to be a young person in post-quake Christchurch and how these ideas can be explored through performance art. We’re also going to get into the practical side of producing performance art - health and safety, planning, and professional development as artists. I’m pretty excited to see where the group takes these ideas and how their performance develops. Thanks to Christchurch City Council Transitional Funding for supporting these workshops, to Life in Vacant Spaces and to White Elephant for their collaboration.  Photo credits:Daniela Aebli

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FIKA Writers Collective at CoCA

Fika is a collective of Christchurch Pasifika creatives whose members meet to give energy to the practice of storytelling through writing, poetry, prose and performance. Through collaboration and exchange, Fika maintain a sense of oral tradition and work to strengthen the voices of Pasifika peoples within Canterbury.

FIKA at CoCA

From June 16 to August, members of Fika will meet once a week in the gallery space provided by CoCA. Responding to exhibitions within the gallery and conducting a free writing exercise, the group will post their work to gallery wall. The writing will be a mixture of edited and unedited work, produced on and off site.

Free writing exercise Amelia Hitchcock, Curator

I was lucky enough to be invited to join Fika for their first session of Free Writing at CoCA. We set up a couple of tables, and then all started with the same sentence ‘oblique tales from the aquatic sublime’ which we borrowed from Vertigo Sea.  The aim of the exercise is to write without editing; a stream of consciousness, for three pages, or however long you can stand it! If you get stuck, you repeat the last word or last line until the flow comes back. 

We each wrote a few pages, then read from what we’d written to the group. It was quite incredible how many different tangents we’d gone on from the one starting sentence. Following this, we split into pairs and gave over our text to our partner, who took to it with a craft knife, extracting sentences or sections that got to the core of what we’d written. 

Working collaboratively, we arranged the cutouts into poems, taking content from both partners initial texts. These are now displayed on the gallery wall. 

I’m looking forward to watching new texts appear on the wall each weekend. Toward the end of Vertigo Sea, FIKA members will choose the best works to be performed at an event - watch this space. 

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FIKA are the first community group to respond to the provocation below and activate the North Gallery 

At the opening of the Vertigo Sea, The North Gallery appears empty except for some vertebrae from the Canterbury Museum’s Blue Whale skeleton. This emptiness is deliberate.

Space is a premium in Otautahi, particularly in the CBD. So as CoCA re-establishes itself, we are opening thegallery up as a platform and resource. The emptiness is potential. It is an invitation.

CoCA is currently working with community groups who may come and utilise the space over the course of the exhibition. These groups range from artist collaboratives, education groups to NGOs. As the season unfolds, this space may host pop up exhibitions, spoken word performances, workshops, meetings and screenings. We may accumulate documentation from some of these, and the space may shift and change as community needs become apparent.

We will also use this space for discussions, for visiting groups to assemble and workshop, for children's activities, and talks.