Exhibition review – Jone Kvie’s Metamorphosis

This review is of Jone Kvie’s exhibition ‘Metamorfos’ (Metamorphosis) which runs from February the 24th to May the 20th 2018 at Göteborgs Konstmuseum’s ‘Stena Gallery’ for temporary exhibitions. This exhibition was curated by Camilla Påhlsson.

Metamorfos is the result of a growing investigation by contemporary Norwegian artist Jone Kvie into the dichotomies of body and architecture, weight and weightlessness, nature and the human condition. Equally, it is a celebration of alchemy, of the transformative power of fire and an experiment into what role lighting plays in the way we encounter and perceive sculptures.

This solo exhibition is organized into two conjoined rooms. On entering, the viewer is confronted with a tall white rectangular block that reaches nearly to the ceiling, a monolithic white cube gallery plinth. The artist’s name is stuck on at eye level in tall sans serif typeface, indicative of the exhibition’s minimalist aesthetic. Looking closer you notice this white section of wall is the exact negative shape of the space in the separating wall between this room and the next. This clever curation not only draws attention to the artworks but also to the spatiality of the room itself which becomes an extension of the sculptures. We become more aware of how our own bodies relate to the surrounding environment in scale and movement.

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Figure 1

The sculptures juxtapose jarringly with the clean and precise upright structure on which the artist’s name is displayed. Three long twisted bronze poles with their ends encased in rounded blocks of concrete (Stele #1-3) writhe in the space like streetlamps which have been morphed and uprooted by a horrific car accident. Through the placement of these forms the viewer is invited to read them like figures- two lying on the ground like dying soldiers, the other leaning bent against the wall as if injured and in pain.

In stark contrast to the weathered bronze tubes with their green patina, is the lighting. A sequence of strip lights line the walls vertically, the sterility and unforgiving brightness brings to mind a visit to the hospital. It becomes impossible to view the other sculptures without the afterglow of these lights in your field of vision, cutting across he forms. You cannot help but take in the space, the light and the objects as one unified whole.

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Figure 2

Continuing through the tall opening we find ourselves in a second much larger but darker room. On the marble floor is the archipelago of eight separate but visually unified sculpture islands that make up ‘Second Messenger’ (2017). If the first room contained the remnants of a car accident, here the scraps have been composed together in clusters, each containing an element of aluminium and long basalt rock. The aluminium forms are curious, some are metal girders but appear to have the texture of wood, others are more clearly disguised materials – there is an aluminium cast concrete breezeblock and an aluminium rectangle of corrugated cardboard. Again careful placement of these materials brings to life a human dialogue between them. The rocks take on human personalities, one pins a sheet of metal to the wall aggressively, some nestle together horizontally in a close embrace like lovers, others stand upright assertively. With the exhibition’s title we can almost imagine that these are people which have metamorphosed into stone.

Kvie’s exhibition is challenging to comprehend with its depth of metaphorical strata but is ultimately very successful in encouraging the viewer to contemplate the complex ideas which are described in the artist’s statement, namely our association to our present time and what it means to be human. Communicated through the work by the personification of the materials is a realisation that as humans we are ‘of the earth’ instead of distinctly separate from it.

Among my first thoughts of the ‘Stele’ sculptures was that they gave the impression of giant plants, green from oxidation and welded in sections like bamboo shoots. The concrete ends are like the upturned roots of a tree fallen in a storm, making one think of architecture as something which grows from the ground, of a human process as an organic process. This message is reinforced when viewed together with the leaning basalt in the opposite side of the gallery which contains fossilised plants weaving along the surface like blood vessels. On returning back to the first room I began to perceive the original bronze forms as monolithic fossils. This juxtaposition of vitality and lifelessness draws attention to the cycle of life and death and to a realisation that life is contained even in such stative things as rocks, which were formed in volcanic eruptions, requiring huge amounts of energy.

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Figure 3

In the exhibition guide it is explained that the black basalt is a mineral rich in calcium and  ‘Just like all living organisms, we need calcium in order for our nervous system to function correctly and relay nerve signals’.[1] This blurring of distinction between the human and non-human suggests to me an ecological approach similar to British anthropologist Tim Ingold’s explanation of ‘Meshwork Theory’ which imagines humans and non-human things as part of a larger, integrated whole.[2] In his essay ‘Toward an Ecology of Materials’ (2012) Ingold introduces Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenological reasoning that ‘every living thing, our human selves included, is irrevocably stitched into the fabric of the world.’ This reasoning that we are more intertwined with our environment than we realise might be suggested by the placement of the sculptures in Kvie’s exhibition. Here we walk among the rocks, over and underneath the metal poles. We are not spectators, separate from the exhibition, we are among it.

In ‘Making’ (2013) Ingold writes about how making anything is a collaboration between ourselves and a material and that the material imposes its own constraints upon us, just as we impose our own ideas and forms upon it. This theory of ‘Material Agency’ illustrates modern thinking about the symbiotic relationship of humans and the environment and an ecological attitude towards artistic aesthetics. Matter is no longer passive and inert, waiting for the human hand to shape it. In Kvie’s ‘Second Messenger’ the basalt rocks seem to float magically and weightlessly on a see-saw construction of metal girders, balanced impossibly as if they are agents of their own.

Interestingly in ‘Metamorphosis’, the number of strip lights appears to correspond to the number of separate elements that make up the sculptures. Their length and shape are also echoed in the elongated rock forms and aluminium girders, suggesting there is some link between the two. If each strip light is read symbolically as the partner of another structure in the exhibition, then perhaps they represent the energy and life that is present in each rock and metal form, in the volcanic metamorphosis of molten magma and the fire power that smelted the aluminium. Through this constructed framework we not only experience the exhibition holistically (the lighting, space and sculptures become a whole), we also get a glimpse of an extended holistic world in which humans are the earth, and rocks take on a human vitality.

 

Images:

Figure 1. Stele #2 and #3 (2018) by Jone Kvie

Figure 2. Detail from Jone Kvie’s ‘Second Messenger’ (2017), basalt and aluminium

Figure 3. Detail of fossils in basalt from ‘Second Messenger’ #5 (2017)

 

[1] Full exhibition overview “Metamorphosis” retrieved from: http://goteborgskonstmuseum.se/en/exhibitions/jone-kvie/

[2] Ingold, T. (2010, July). Bringing Things to Life: Creative Entanglements in a World of Materials. Retrieved from: http://eprints.ncrm.ac.uk/1306/1/0510_creative_entanglements.pdf

 

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L4 Subject Summative PDP

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Things can be otherwise – I’m a bucket becoming a fire

I feel this year I’ve focused (although not as much as I could have) on improving my throwing skills. It’s a process I enjoy, but rather than viewing it as a means to an end, I see it as more as a starting point for the process of construction, much like artists Wouter Dam, Carina Ciscato and Walter Keeler.

I began the first project ‘Many a Slip’ trying to repeat throw a particular form – that of a distinctively shaped mug I remembered from home. I discovered though, when I found a picture of the actual mug, that my memory of the object was distorted, a caricature of a mug. This made me think of how unreliable memory is and blind drawing exercises in the New Materialisms Constellation study group explored these ideas of how we perceive with our senses further. This idea of memory and trace fed into the ‘Cafe Society’ project. My cafe was to be a piece of home in Cardiff, somewhere I could go to escape the busy city and feel I was back in the wild, mountainous landscape of North Wales. The layout of the place would be similar to my favourite coffee shop in Dolgellau – T.H.Roberts, the old ironmongers, the top floor kitted out with second hand sofas, and they would serve the local speciality – Popty’r Dre’s honey buns.

I made a series of my ‘home’ mugs which I hope to saggar fire tomorrow with combustibles sourced from the Dolgellau area – seaweed and shells from Barmouth beach and sheep wool and lichen from the farmers fields on the foot of Cader Idris. I want the surfaces of the mugs to show a physical trace of my home. The project has made me think of the things I take for granted and how your memory of a place can change when you move away and grow older. It makes me think of Malcolm Pryce’s Aberystwyth Noir novel series – about an alternative underworld Aberystwyth which he only began to write about when he moved away from the place.

With the handbuilding of thrown forms I find myself returning to the theme of balance, which happened to be what I wrote my final Constellation essay about. I find my making process if becoming more and more process driven rather than schematic and pre-planned. I find I like to play with the material and discover ways sections want to fit together harmoniously and naturally rather than trying to bring a drawing or plan into being. This thinking has definitely been influenced by learning about ideas of the agency of materials in Constellation. I feel as a result though that I’ve abandoned research a bit and work in sketchbooks less than I used to.

I noticed this change of thinking most when I came to the final ‘Centrepiece’ project and originally wanted to make an interactive piece or a game, but realised I didn’t want to work to a plan. It’s also becoming more and more important to me that what I make shows a trace of how it’s been made. This is why I like the flow of throwing lines and marks where the fire has licked the clay in kilns that aren’t electric fired. I hope to move away from the standard oxidation electric kiln firings next year. I’d especially to learn how to use the gas kilns for reduction firings and look more in depth at alternative firing methods like raku, saggar and wood firing. I liked the unexpected, uneven results and surface textures you get this way, like the ones on my final centrepiece.

Looking through my blog I feel it would help to post a summary of my developing ideas at the end of each week next year so I can see a more clear progression. Also I’d like to upload films of myself working so I can more dynamically document the skills and techniques I’m learning.

 

 

L4 Constellation PDP

Coming to Constellation with no background of studying philosophy, I found the arguments and concepts difficult to grasp at first. I feel I’ve been introduced not so much to a new field of knowledge but more to a new way of thinking about the world and my place in it. Initially I didn’t feel confident engaging in class discussions, worried I would say something ‘wrong’ or worse, silly, but as the year progressed I’ve realised these debates are more about questioning and thinking independently than knowing information, and I’ve started to grow in confidence and enjoy them. I feel I’ve significantly developed my critical thinking skills as well as my ability to listen to others and engage in debate. I’ve realised that I don’t have to agree with anything or everything, all things can be questioned and picked apart. Previously I’d considered my work in a historical context but not a philosophical one. Constellation has made me think about the theory that underpins my work and I feel it also gives me a deeper understanding and appreciation of the artwork of others.

During the first term my study group was Martin Woodward’s ‘New Materialisms’ – an exploration of the debates surrounding phenomenology. Each week, as a group we took part in a different drawing or making activity and analysed the results. I felt this was a fantastic introduction to constellation because I was able to ground complex theories and ideas in something that felt real and concrete. In contrast, Clive Cazeaux’s ‘Things can be otherwise – an introduction to philosophy’ (my second term study group) was more centred on group discussions. Although I found these more and more valuable as the term progressed, I felt more engaged and remembered what I’d learnt better with interactive activities.
Previously I hadn’t questioned why I wanted to work with clay in much depth but learning about theories such as the agency of materials discussed by writers like Ingold and Jane Bennett have helped me better understand why I’m studying ceramics. For last term’s formative essay I wrote about the hierarchy of senses in society, and the more I researched about society’s oculacentric culture, the more I felt that ceramics and craft have an important role to play in making people aware of a more embodied existence where we pay attention to all our senses.
A book I received for Christmas about practicing mindfulness (which focuses on paying attention to all our senses) was an important catalyst in getting me interested in Eastern philosophy. I felt a breakthrough came for me during a class discussion in ‘Things can be otherwise’ about theories of technology which led to discussions about agency and the difference between eastern and western thought. I felt I’d fallen across something that really excited me. Finally, I could begin to draw connections with the ‘New Materialisms’ study group about how much we shape the world and are shaped by it in return. I found that eastern, specifically Japanese ideology was more in line with my definition of beauty and the values I hold important, so I chose to explore how eastern philosophy relates to material agency in my essay, using the work of Bernard Leach as an example.

Having spent time in the study groups analysing small passages of complex essays in detail, such as Joseph Jastrow’s ‘The Mind’s Eye’ I have learnt that by dedicating time and attention to pieces of writing that at first glance seem inaccessible, I can slowly begin to understand what the author is saying. As a next step I need to spend time practicing reading the style of academic writing I’m becoming more familiar with through Constellation. I feel the time I’ve already spent has been rewarding and enlightening as I begin to find connections between the theories of different writers. Although, having read Tim Ingold’s ‘Making’ I now know that academic writing doesn’t have to be dry and difficult to follow and this has reinforced the importance of knowing the audience you are writing for. What I especially like about Ingold’s writing is that he gives examples of activities he’s done to illustrate his theories, and like the activities we did in our study group, it makes them more memorable.

I felt the keynotes were a bit of a lottery, some being worthwhile but others not so much. One that really stood out for me was Cath Davies’s ‘Purple Haze’ in which she discussed how Art Nouveau had a heavy influence on 1960s Psychedelia culture. I became interested in the theory that nothing is really new, elements of past trends are just re-configured and combined with the present. I recognised this was why I’ve had an obsession with Quentin Tarantino films, because of how well Tarantino knows his film history. When potter Geoff Swindell visited CSAD to demonstrate his making techniques, he spoke openly of his distaste of potters today who work in the tradition of Bernard Leach, making pots that resemble those from ancient Japan. Although I agree it’s important to move with the times, before I dismiss this ceramic tradition as being old fashioned I want to better understand it so I can learn from it, hence why I wrote the essay about Japanese ceramics and philosophy. While constellation addresses theory, I feel what may be missing from my course is the historical context. I attended some of Jon Clarkson’s fine art lectures, but we have no equivalent for ceramics.

Above all constellation has taught me to ask questions even if at the present moment I can’t answer them. While subject deals with what and how I make, constellation deals with the equally important ‘why’. It has given me a more holistic approach to life and making, now that I begin to see the interconnectedness of materials, tools, the body and the environment. As a practitioner, this has made me more interested in exploring art that can be interacted with and is currently feeding into my centrepiece project where I hope to make a table centrepiece that can be played as a game.

Loud colours and sharp lemons

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Above: drawn from touch  Below: drawn from sight

The first drawing is of an object (a metal fastener) perceived by touch alone. The ones below were drawn while looking at that object afterwards.
Drawing the object from touch, there was no pressure to create a ‘good’ drawing. I knew that even my best efforts would probably result in inaccuracies and because of this the drawing appears looser and more carefree than the other two. I took the approach of a continuous line drawing, since this technique felt more appropriate to translate my perception of the object through touch. Holding the fastener in my hand, my finger worked to feel around it in a continuous line motion. In contrast, in the second drawings the lines are much more confident and precise but lack expression and spontaneity.
I find it interesting how my mind imposed memories on the object as I felt it. It made me think of a specific carabiner I thought I’d seen my dad use, so I drew the criss-crossed texture that one had on its grip instead of feeling carefully and discovering the texture was instead vertical lines. I imagined the metal to be dark purple in colour, probably thinking back to the smooth metal texture of a purple camera I owned years ago. I had a much more personal experience of the object by just feeling it.
In the first drawing the metal is a lot thicker than perceived by sight. Might this have something to do with the perception of temperature? The metal felt cold to touch, could this have led me to feel it occupied a larger space, that there was more of it?
The drawing from touch is also noticeably larger, maybe because I felt the need to leave room to accommodate future details on the object I might perceive later on. I felt this approach focused my attention on the process of drawing in contrast to when I drew the fastener while looking at it. This instead focused my attention on the outcome of the activity rather than the activity itself.