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Peta Clancy - The importance of ambiguity, of drawing in and pushing out

Australia holds a dark history; one not known by nearly enough people. Undercurrent by Peta Clancy is a deceptively simplistic work. It is only through the reading of the image that the audience is able to find strings to tug on, and it is in this process that we are led to self-directed research; a process many unfortunately have to undertake in order to understand this country’s past, and thus present. This is a practice similar to that of Hayley Millar-Baker’s work, who intentionally leaves her works ambiguously intriguing to incite her audience to begin their own journeys of discovery.

Initially, Clancy’s images offer little information; the trees, the river could be from anywhere, the old photo used shot by anyone, the title drawing a blank. However, presented within the Bendigo Art Gallery, close to the land depicted, the trees become distinctly Australian flora. With this known, the old photograph is likely of colonial origins, its technology introduced through the invaders. The title begins to suggest something occurring beneath the surface which cannot be merely seen; the process of discovery has begun and the audience begins the research.

The land with which the two photos were taken are massacre sites, part of an era of Australian history only recently reassessed. The reflection of the land is metaphorical for a land turned upside down; by flooding, by the gold rush, by invasion. This simple photo, created through the mirrored appropriation of a colonial daguerreotype and a modern image taken by Clancy, becomes anything but. It is now heavy with untold history and implication.

Nancy Rexroth’s photograph ‘A Woman’s Bed’, begins humbly too. Initially, it is a photo of a bed; finally, it is a symbol for birth, death and the life in between.

It is through this process of reading imagery, incited by seductively ambiguous photographs, that audiences are drawn to look beyond the frame. It is a particular process of communication, presented most effectively in pensive or vague manners, as exhibited excellently within Clancy’s Undercurrent series.

Bibliography

1. Clancy, P. (2021, May 11). UTS Photo-Peta Clancy-3-4-21.mp4 [Zoom Video Recording]. Google Drive https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/folders/1qDQlIiDB05XIetjzOT81miaoasz82-jP

2. Millar-Baker, H. (2021). There we were all in one place. [catalogue]. UTS Gallery Publications.

3. McDaniel, E. Millar-Baker, H. & McDonald, S.R. (2021, April 21). There we were all in one place: Learning Experience Workshop. [Zoom Workshop]. UTS. https://art.uts.edu.au/index.php/events/there-were-all-in-one-place-learning-experience-workshop/

4. Rexer, L. (2019). The critical eye: fifteen pictures to understand photography. 25-37. Intellect Books. 

5. Clancy, P. (2018). Undercurrent (3). [Inkjet pigment print]. Dominik Mersch Gallery. https://www.dominikmerschgallery.com/product/peta-clancy-undercurrent-3/

6. Rexroth, N. (1970). A Woman’s Bed, Logan Ohio (from the series Iowa). [gelatin silver print]. Mia. https://collections.artsmia.org/art/12755/a-womans-bed-nancy-rexroth

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Phuong Ngo - Micro to macro

In the aftermath of colonial historical negationism it is too easy for pasts to be forgotten, for present contexts to be accepted without scrutiny. The work of Phuong Ngo forces his audience to analyse their worlds by revealing deeply hidden scenes and drawing out hugely forgotten chains of events.

Beginning as a mere curiosity surrounding the peculiar tradition of needing cognac as a centrepiece within Vietnamese weddings, Ngo co-created the exhibition ‘Drunken Swine’. The works attempt to investigate the relationship between the South Vietnamese community and their colonial history due to the introduction of cognac being a direct result of displaced French culture within the Vietnamese diaspora. In our current anthropocene, this form of archival work couldn’t be more necessary.

While the motif of the cognac is used as the core example in the ‘Drunken Swine’ exhibition, it is amazing to see how much further the overall works delve, critiquing colonial lay-overs from the French occupation, as well as the persistent elitism attached to its occupation within the context of the Vietnamese diaspora. Mirrored perspex recreating the French flag is situated within the middle of the space, evoking a contemplation of identity and perspective metaphorically through the lens of a colonial superpower. The photographic portraits draw inspiration from the performativity inherent in both ethnographic and French colonial photography, thus examining the Orientalist tropes that influenced French colonial image-making methods.

Correspondingly, Ai Weiwei’s Sunflower Seeds take a seemingly harmless item of ubiquity and use it as a major link to the Cultural Revolution in China, each seed becoming representative of the population and evoking discussion surrounding individualism and collectivism due to their large scale and uniquely handmade nature.

In being able to take a mundane item and draw on its link to forgotten chains of historical events, Ngo is encouraging his audience towards a de-colonial framework through a process of questioning the sum of parts that make up our current diaspora.

   Bibliography

1. Art Almanac. (2019, October 29). Slippage: Drunken Swine. Art Almanac. https://www.art-almanac.com.au/slippage-drunken-swine/

2. Slippage. (2019). Drunken Swine [pigment print]. Art Almanac. https://www.art-almanac.com.au/slippage-drunken-swine/

3. Firstdraft. (2019, November 06). Drunken Swine. Firstdraft. https://firstdraft.org.au/program/slippage

4. Tate Museum. (2010, June) Sunflower Seeds. Tate. https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/ai-sunflower-seeds-t13408

5. Ngo, P. (2021, April 26). UTS Photo-Phuong Ngo-26-4-21.mp4 [Zoom Video Recording]. Google Drive https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/folders/1qDQlIiDB05XIetjzOT81miaoasz82-jP

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Kate Mitchell - Shadowing controversy

There is one question Kate Mitchell receives above all in response to her 2020 work All Auras Touch; does she actually believe in auras? She chooses to respond by stating that she is making a conceptual artwork, not a science experiment, and that the point of it is not to prove or disprove anything. It seems a shame that this is so fixated upon as the most significant part of her work is undoubtedly its commentary upon the ways in which we value capital over identity, to the point where one’s identity becomes intrinsically tied to their economic worth.

The camera chooses colours based purely upon information gathered by the sitter. It is very difficult to make work that doesn’t hold bias from the artist, and yet this work accomplishes that by making the colour choices the work of a machine, unique to each person due to readings from their bodies. The meaning is clear; not only is the artist open about discussing it, but the actions of the work make it easy to read. The ideas are incredibly relevant in our capitalistic society and expertly depicted. It is because of this that the overshadowing controversy regarding the use of “aura’s” is even more disappointing.

While there is a common belief that all publicity is good publicity, it seems in this case the wrongly placed attention only detracts from the work, damaging its reception. In much the same way the “aura’s” of Mitchell’s work become heavily fixated upon, the age of the sitter is a huge blockade in reading Bill Henson’s photographs, due to his highly contested use of minors in his moot images; it is difficult to linger on a work that is so difficult to look upon.

This effect appears to be quite significant to photography. In some cases, the indexicality with truth makes certain images confronting whilst others become frustrating when reality is tampered with, thus provoking stronger debate regarding spirituality within Mitchell’s installation than discussion of economy and identity intertwining.

Bibliography

1. Freeland, C. (2007). Portraits in Painting and Photography. Philosophical Studies, 135(1), 95–109. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11098-007-9099-7

2. Marr, D. (2008). The Henson Case. Text Publishing. 

3. Mitchell, K. (2021, April 12). UTS Photo-Kate Mitchell-12-4-21.mp4 [Zoom Video Recording]. Google Drive https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/folders/1qDQlIiDB05XIetjzOT81miaoasz82-jP

4. Aura Imaging. (2021, May 01). AuraCam 6000 Coggins Camera. Aura Photo. https://www.auraphoto.com/products/auracam/

5. Art Almanac. (2019, November 29). Kate Mitchell: All Auras Touch. Art Almanac. https://www.art-almanac.com.au/kate-mitchell-all-auras-touch/

6. Ashton, J. (2012). William Etty: Art and Controversy, York Art Gallery. Visual Culture in Britain, 13(2), 272–274. https://doi.org/10.1080/14714787.2012.676530

7. Wimberley, Z. (2020). Kate Mitchell All Auras Touch [photograph]. Carriageworks. https://carriageworks.com.au/events/kate-mitchell-all-auras-touch/

8. Henson, B. (2000). Untitled [type c photograph]. Roslyn Oxley Gallery. https://www.roslynoxley9.com.au/artist/bill-henson

[janeasher]

Dean Cross - Decentralising the biography

The politicisation of the body is too often inevitable. Though in many cases it is key to understand the biography of the artist in the reading of one’s work, a line seems to become crossed when private stories are seen as necessary to this process.

Interdisciplinary artist Dean Cross no longer shares his life story freely, and notes how unsustainable and emotionally taxing making art purely on one’s own identity can be. By maintaining his privacy, Cross does not allow himself to be cross-examined in order to justify the conceptual framework of his art. This liberation of Cross from identity and trauma politics is clearly seen within his art, which is able to pertain to inter-generational trauma, impacts of colonisation, and the Australian identity to name a few.

Many works are decentralised from himself, his opinion and message shining through clearly without needing to show or tell his biography to strengthen them, as exemplified by his ‘Best We Forget’ exhibition. Though he is Indigenous, many of his works pertaining to his culture are not purely focused inward at himself but rather aimed outward at his world. That is not to say, however, that Cross is sternly against making work on the self; ‘Dropping the Bullshit (We Look Like This Too)’ is a photographic triptych that examines his own physical appearance in regards to the body politics of the Indigenous identity. Cross merely wishes to be able to move fluidly through his practice without the entrapment of identity politics holding him back.

While Cross shows how damaging this lens to be and exemplifying ways to make art from legitimate perspectives without the need to be utterly transparent, I do still feel the inquiry of the biography is necessary in many cases, as artists without agency may wreak havoc on the presented communities or subjects due to a lack of connection or empathy that doesn’t always reveal itself in the final images.

Bibliography

1. Cross, D. (2021, April 21). UTS Photo-Dean Cross-20-4-21.mp4 [Zoom Video Recording]. Google Drive https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/folders/1qDQlIiDB05XIetjzOT81miaoasz82-jP

2. Cross, D. (2021, May 04). Home. Dean Cross. https://www.deancross.com/

3. Cross, D. (2017). Best We Forget (installation view) [photograph] Dean Cross. https://www.deancross.com/best-we-forget

4. Cross, D. (2018). Dropping the Bullshit (We Look Like This Too) [photograph]. Dean Cross. https://www.deancross.com/dropping-the-bullshit

5. Darity, W. A., Jr. (Ed.). (2008). International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences (2nd ed.). Macmillan Reference USA. https://link.gale.com/apps/pub/1PAV/GVRL?u=uts&sid=GVRL

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Nat Randall - Theatre, science experiment, and/or art.

Described famously by Marina Abramovic as working with real blood while theatre uses ketchup, art is commonly believed to hold a strong basis in reality; like a science experiment depicted fantastically through metaphor. Though this is a belief I have always shared, Nat Randall’s The Second Woman challenges this heavily by seemingly operating at the precipice of all three; theatre, art and social science.

Theatrically it is a scripted piece, acted out on a stage. Artistically the work operates like an endurance performance, re-enacted 100 times over 24 hours. And scientifically, the male actors are chosen like social experiment participants, purposely random and with a hypothesis in mind; how will various self-identified men interpret this multilateral scene based around a heterosexual relationship?

It appears The Second Woman acts similarly to Yoko Ono’s Cut Piece performance; from the leading set-up to the way it metaphorically depicts proven social discourse. Ono presents her participants with scissors and asks them to cut pieces of her clothing off; eventually she will not be clothed. Randall presents her male participants with a script and asks them to act; they are going to play the character, who fights with their partner at certain points, accordingly.

If proving a hypothesis was the goal, the uncontrolled environment makes that impossible. If creating a cinematic experience was the goal, theatre exists. The goal was to create art, which I now realise exists within its own right; it does not have to move fluidly between unbiased science and subjective theatre, in fact it can be something else entirely. In the end, artworks can be perceived in a plethora of legitimate ways by each audience member that experiences them, their meaning only beginning at the artist.

From my perspective, for instance, The Second Woman takes key elements from theatre and experiment to create art, depicting genuine concerns surrounding toxic masculinity through what becomes an almost metaphorical endurance performance, its meaning lingering like that of the moral from a children’s tale. 

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Liz Ham - Biography as a strength

The photograph is not, in actuality, indexical with truth; in fact, its inherent bias has long been critiqued by scholars. Yet despite knowing how deceitful representation within the image can be, Liz Ham’s iconic manuscript, Punk Girls, is widely regarded as being a great portrayal of the female punk subculture. This is not an accolade given freely at present, nor should it be, therefore begging the question of what circumstances have allowed Ham to produce a work that appears so viscerally honest to its subject.

Ham’s longstanding career as a prolific fashion photographer, able to work intuitively to capture the essence of her models and find effortless narratives within her images, shines through in Punk Girls. The book does not utter a word after the initial opening and doesn’t have to. Additionally, Ham’s history of living adjacently to the punk community puts her in an important position to portray them empathetically, and thus with more care and precision.

The images are unique from punk girl to punk girl, with black and white, colour, candid, posed, studio and street filling the contents of the manuscript. The chosen aesthetics of the images fit each subject like a glove, showing the consideration Ham had for the individualised representation of each sitter. The making of the photobook took five years, indicative of an exceptional investigative process.

In cases where the biography of the artist has been disregarded, many have been able to exploit and misrepresent minority communities with no repercussions, allowing this behaviour to persist. Steve Mcurry’s The Afghan Girl, while once praised, is now infamously used in discussions surrounding exploitative representation of minorities. McCurry did not even know the name of his subject, hence the title; Ham has claimed to enjoy making bonds with her model’s and did this throughout the making of Punk Girls.

Biography matters in photography, and Ham’s context gives her one of the best agencies to depict the subculture of Punk Girls; her praise is well deserved.

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Shea Kirk - Representation and the care it deserves

As an Indigenous Australian, the topic of representation is one of great importance to myself and something that I believe, when attempted, needs to be executed with the utmost care. Consent, respect and the truth of the subject should be prioritised; without this, tokenism persists and vulnerable communities are exploited under a guise of performative activism. Vantages by Shea Kirk is a photographic portrait series that pays its subjects the individualised consideration that representation should be expected to have.

It is extremely noteworthy that Kirk’s chosen models come from a range of backgrounds, the majority of these being from extremely under-represented communities. In contrast, there is the work of photographer Emma Phillips, who describes those she chooses to represent as “people who look like her”, a heterosexual, cis-gendered white woman. Her images are one such example of those who do little to represent a broader spectrum of people and investigate outside of themselves.

The subjects of Vantages consent to having their images used and have been given the power to control how they pose and present themselves in front of Kirk’s stationary lens. Though the images are shot within Kirk’s home, he purposely utilises curtained backdrops or blank backgrounds to create a studio environment, communicating the collaboration between artist and subject to the audience, as it distances itself from the candidness of street photography with the choice inherent in the studio. The gaze of the models is piercingly strong when it does meet the camera, giving the models a sense of agency over the image.

Personally, I even find the way Kirk utilises stereoscopic technology to encourage the viewer’s gaze to linger upon the images a sort of justice being done to the sitter’s, as though they are finally receiving the focus they have been withheld for so long.

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Polly Borland - The root of discomfort

The work of Polly Borland’s Morph is unsettling. Deeply so. To the point where the artist herself would never consider hanging the works within her own home, nor does she recommend anyone else do the same. Many have questioned what makes the images so disturbing, including Borland, and yet the artist herself cannot—or will not—specify where the unwatchable quality of the works stems from.

The most significant factor responsible for the repulsed reaction of the viewer, as many describe it, would be the effect of the uncanny valley, inherent as an instinct within most people. Her figures carry an eerie human resemblance without actually having to look like a human at all. None demonstrate this more than the image below, who Borland herself has claimed resembles a face, with a nose, forehead and chin being its most prominently recognisable features—the tubular shapes of the fabric even hold a disquieting likeness to organs. Though the eye does distinctly introduce a human presence within the image, prior to it being noticed the shapes, materials and colours are utterly inhuman, and for all intents and purposes should only be seen as the clumps of fabric that they are. Borland knows this, and intentionally inserts a human element into all of her Morph figures, molding ambiguous organic shapes similar to bodies and facial features with the fabric, and even showing glimpses of actual people amidst and within. Viewing the human within the inhuman triggers and instant feeling of unease, which the artist must know in order to utilise so expertly throughout the series.

While the driving force behind the repulsion evoked by Morph has been left ambiguous and unidentified by many, it’s cause can still be contemplated; personally, it appears obvious that the core reason for such evocative reactions to seemingly harmless images of fabric sculptures is the uncanny human resemblance inherent throughout their forms.