Gail Tremblay and Alfredo Arreguin

Memorials for Gail Tremblay (1945 – 2023), Alfredo Arreguín, (1935 – 2023)

This summer we had memorials for two special artists, both deeply concerned about our planet: Gail Tremblay, Native American poet and  multimedia artist, and Alfredo Arreguín, Mexican and American painter. Gail Tremblay was a close friend for many years, I only met Alfredo once when I interviewed him for an article. The memorials were equally moving, although approached in different ways. In each case, I learned a great deal about the artists.

Gail Tremblay, of Mi’kmaq and Onondaga descent, was a long time professor at The Evergreen State College. The memorial took place at the House of Welcome Cultural Arts Center on the college campus. We heard about her huge role at Evergreen since the 1980s in creating a Native arts program, as well as mentoring students of all backgrounds. Called an “Artistic and Teaching Retrospective” it included testimonials to her importance as an educator, readings of her poetry, and a celebration of her art career.

 

I knew Gail mainly as a poet and a visual artist who addressed difficult topics in original mixed media formats.

The last time I talked to her, she read me some of her new poetry on the phone. What a wonderful experience. She was still writing in spite of many physical issues.

 

I have written about her art work for many years, as well as reviewing group exhibitions that she curated such as “Voices of Water” and “Not Vanishing. Contemporary Expressions in Visual Art.” Her striking installations addressed ecological disasters such as cancer from pollution at Hanford- “It is Heavy on My Heart,”

 

 

– and the loss of salmon-“Empty Fish Trap.”

 

She incorporated recorded narratives, video, photographs, and poetry into her installations.

 

She was best known for her film baskets woven from 35 mm film addressing the racism of Hollywood.

As I wrote in 2003:

“Gail Tremblay weaves our spirits into these artworks and takes us on a journey with her extraordinary technical ability, her words, her deep caring for the earth, and her sense of humor. On the journey we enter small worlds and large worlds, the outer universe and the inner universe. She hopes that we end up caring about all of it as much as she does.”

 

 

The memorial for Alfredo Arreguín on Whidbey Island at the Schouten Gallery featured an exhibition of his works in the gallery that surrounded us with his brilliant invocations of nature.

Arreguin started exploring the theme of Frida Kahlo many years ago, before she was a household name.

Arreguín’s painting is extraordinarily detailed, it includes layers of intricate patterns with faces emerging from them, or birds and monkeys immersed in deep jungle scenes.

 

 

I took this photograph when I visited him for an article for South Seattle Emerald. they wanted too much rewriting, so I posted it on my blog instead.https://www.artandpoliticsnow.com/2019/08/a-visit-to-the-home-of-alfredo-arreguin-and-susan-lytle-june-2019/

I also included in my book, Setting Our Hearts on Fire.

 

While he talked to me, he turned around from time to time and added a dot to the painting. Here is a detail.

 

 

Arreguín’s paintings both celebrate and grieve for the loss of our rich biodiversity. As he stated, “We are the most dangerous animals on the planet.”

 

The next day the memorial featured informal statements by close friends in the garden of the gallery. The event was led by eminent poet Tess Gallagher. She and her husband, writer Raymond Carver (1938-88), were dear friends of Alfredo and Susan Lytle. Gallagher read “Reaching” a poem she wrote for him when he gave her the painting Green- Eyed Poet.

Lauro Flores, chair and professor of Ethnic Studies at the University of Washington and author of  Alfredo Arreguín Patterns of Dreams and Nature spoke eloquently.  Jeff Day, sculptor, and long time personal friend of Alfredo and Susan spoke about the Blue Moon Café, that famous bar in the UDistrict where many of Alfredo’s friends first met.

Both memorials honored the artists through the invocation of their lives and creativity. But what came across most clearly for both Alfredo Arreguín and Gail Tremblay was their vivid spirits, generous friendships, and extraordinary originality as creative people.

Arreguín painted leaping orcas in Puget Sound in several versions. Shortly after Arreguín’s  memorial we heard of the death of Tokitae, an Orca captured on August 8, 1970 in Penn Cove, Whidbey Island the only survivor of hundreds captured. She spent her life in a small tank at the Miami Seaquarium. After many years of effort, she was about to be returned to her home pod in the Northwest.

Tragically, immediately after her death, the decision was made by the Aquarium to have Tokitae undergo an autopsy, so her body has been cut up. This is an additional shock to the Lummi since they weren’t consulted.

Now the Lummi have decided to cremate the remains and bring the ashes back home.

Jaune Quick-to-See Smith: Memory Map at the Whitney Museum

 

 

As we come into the installation of Jaune Quick- to- See Smith’s exhibition at the Whitney Museum, the first piece we encounter is the enormous  Trade Canoe Forty Days and Forty Nights. 2015

named after the journey of Noah’s ark.

Trade canoes are a major theme in Smith’s work. In this exihbition we have eight, two actually built of pinewood lath with her son.

 

As an object in itself it can refer simply to a means of transportation and community connection (the importance and challenges of canoe journeys are now a prominent aspect of Northwest summers. Here is a report on the arrival of  the canoes from all over the Northwest in Seattle n 2023, on Alki Beach, where the Denny party landed in 1850  greeted by Chief Seattle,)

 

But these trade canoes are already full to capacity with people, animals, trees, and imaginary creatures.

The artist states:

“Remember when the trade canoes came up river, they would be piled with bags of moldy flour, wormy beef, whiskey laced with lead and blankets smeared with smallpox” (p 21 Memory Map, interview with Lowery Stokes Sims)

So the trade canoes all suggest death related themes in some way.

 

Let us look at 40 Days and 40 Nights

It is impossible to take in all the details of even a single trade canoe and its contents. The larger theme is devastation of the land, the people, and the indigenous way of life that was stampeded by colonialism. A partner theme is the same colonial devastation is being perpetrated on the peoples of the Middle East.

 

 

 

Left side ( bow??) we see the devil in outline;

above flies a winged calaveras ( where putti would be in baroque painting), a crowd of heads are collected one with a big “hat” like form

 

 

Center, Coyote part of Creation Myth, as well as trickster, near Coyote are various creatures, rabbit, eagle, deer. He is bathed in a shower of sun.

 

On the right we see two humans greeting each other and below a long row of cliche indian heads.  A large picassoid head with one eye and a crooked mouth and a snake leaps up in the stern.

 

You can look at one of Smith’s paintings for a long time and not see everything.

 

She began the earliest canoe

at the time of the 1992 celebration of Columbus arrival in 1492. Needless to say the arrival of Columbus was no cause for celebration among indigenous peoples. So this first canoe called Trade Gifts for Trading Lands with White People is full of amusing details, such as all the “gifts” strung across the top of the painting are Indian themed kitsch. Also the canoe has nothing in it unlike all her other canoes. and has no indication of front and back.

 

The canoe is suspended in a sea of collage that speaks to the abuses and contradictions of native life.

 

It is hard to see the collaged details in  the painting, but they refer to various iconic images from the era of the Indian Wars such as Wi-jún-jon, Pigeon’s Egg Head (The Light) Going To and Returning From Washington, 1837-1839 by George Catlin. In this famous painting Catlin depicts the native Chief going to DC in his traditional regalia and returning with European clothes and  whiskey bottles in his back pockets.

 

 

Tongass Trade Canoe 1996, another blockbuster painting refers to the bringing of oil drilling to the fragile Tongass National Forest, the calving land of the Caribou, whom we see galloping across the top of the painting. Above are laundry baskets suggesting a commodity that comes from oil drilling. The Tongass. after a decade of fighting, was finally protected in 2023 from development (we hope).

 

 

 

Here are more examples of trade canoes from the exhibition

 

 

Trade Canoe the Garden

 

 

Trade Canoe Making Medicine with Neil Ambrose Smith

pinewood lath, plastic water bottles, styrofoam and paper coffee cusps, and take-out containers, wooden crosses, hypodermic needles, arcylic and synthetic sinew.

 

 

A detail of a second canoe Trade Canoe: Fry Bread 2018 pinewood lath, fry bread and synthetic sinew.

In other words one canoe has the detritus of consumption of a mainstream diet, the other has one staple of Indigenous food.

 

 

Trade Canoe for the North Pole What do you take when you have to leave everything. Smith humourously suggests Palm trees, but also a horse.

 

 

Trade Canoe False Gods

 

 

 

Trade Canoe: Don Quixote 2 details

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and Trade Canoe Don Quixote in Sumeria detail

 

Clearly we are seeing death and destruction, suffering, and chaos in these canoes. In the last, created in response to the Iraq war, we see a reference to a looted art work from the Baghdad Museum rubbing up against a skeleton, and a monster creature underneath that echoes Picasso.

 

One of Smith’s great accomplishments is to take on the big famous white artists and, in my opinion, outdo them at their own game adding much more meaning to the work. Picasso is one example.

 

The maps in the exhibition were initially inspired by Jasper Johns, but look where the artist goes with them. These are only three examples of many.

Indian Map

 

Memory Map

 

Homeland

Look closely, the artist is from Montana in the upper left, there is a US map underneath, the radiating lines and colors create an entirely new dynamic.

Smith dismisses the traditional lines of US maps, the states, as arbitrarily cutting across Indian lands and tribes. In fact borders of any kind are arbitrary colonial demarcations.

 

Other icons in her work are horses

Going Forward Looking Back

 

and buffalos

this painting is called Indian Drawing Lesson After Leonardo.

 

 

 

Again in the detail, you can see some famous Greek sculpture

 

Smith’s show includes numerous icons, witticisms, re-ups of  famous artists like Edward Kienholz

and Christianity with Indian Madonna Enthroned

 

 

 

a whole series on General Custer, this is my favorite.

 

 

Send up of the thirst for Indian artifacts by white collectors

“Flathead Headdress collected by whites to decorate homes”

“After priests and US Government banned cultural ways such as speaking Salish and druming singing or dancing.

Sold at Sotheby’s today for thousands of dollars to white collector’s seeking Romance in their lives.”

 

One of Smith’s amazing talents is taking the dreadful and  making it amusing even as we don’t lose sight of the horrors. I think this is called Indian humor.

 

Fortunately the exhibition is coming to Seattle in the spring, so I will get to write about it again with different perspectives. I feel as though I have barely begun.

Michelle Kumata What We Carry/ O que nós carregamos

 

 

 

Michelle Kumata (right) with Cora Edmonds (left), founder of Artxchange Gallery, now ArtX Contemporary, at the beginning of Michelle’s gallery talk in her exhibition “What We Carry/ O que nós carregamos”

The story is fascinating. Kumata’s  great grandmother went to Brazil in 1927 with all but two of her children. Michelle’s  grandmother married and came to the US in 1918.

 

On the right is “Queda (Fallling)” an evocation of the experience of migration for her family in Brazil, her great  grandmother is near the bottom, with other family above. They float through the air  and are about to land in the lush countryside. Kumata commented that her great grandmother made this migration when she was in her mid 50s!

 

“This multi-generational family references the Japanese migration to Brazil: falling, blindly jumping into the unknown, with a jungle of tangled vines below. The strong vertical shape references Japanese scrolls.” ~ Michelle Kumata

 

They went to Brazil for work, but the agricultural work was, of course, very hard, and poorly paid and they lived in substandard sheds.

 

 

“What We Carry” on the left is described by the artist:

“When Nikkei families packed their belongings to go to camp, they were told to bring only what they could carry. A butterfly wing is patterned faces of younger generations. Outlines of suitcases represent the legacy we carry with us.” The outlines of the suitcases are barely visible in this image, in the pink area of the butterfly wings.

 

 

Crisântemo e Bananas (Chrysanthemums and Bananas)

 

“The chrysanthemum represents Japan. Bananas represent Brazil, farm labor, and also play on the term that some of the Asian diaspora are called, “yellow on the outside, white on the inside,” the results of assimilation. This is indicative of the complex identities of being Nikkei – being seen as the “Other” – not accepted as Brazilian enough, and also not accepted as Japanese enough.” ~ Michelle Kumata

 

The exhibition is probably the first time that an artist has brought together  Japanese migrants’experiences in Brazil and in the US . We are familiar with our dreadful incarcerations. In Brazil the Japanese were stigmatized, but not incarcerated. They were not allowed to give their newborn children Japanese names. They were ridiculed for their food and appearance,  and discriminated against in work.

(Currently, there is a reverse migration, as Brazil’s economy crumbles creating more layers of identities for the Japanese from Brazil who return to Japan. )

 

The story of Michelle’s family as seen in these beautiful art works is one of survival and endurance. The artist has carefully chosen motifs and colors to evoke various aspects of the cultural experiences in both Brazil and here. One of her themes is silence of the elder
generations, which resulted from racism and cultural oppression during World War II. Younger generations are now sharing these stories and speaking out against injustice.

 

 

This painting called “Ripples,” also refers to the enforced silence, as these floating heads have no mouths. Michelle: “This silence and the invisible scars continue to reverberate through generations.”

 

 

With support from the Meta Open Arts Program, Kumata partnered with filmmaker Tani Ikeda to  create a stunning multimedia “talking mural” last year. It celebrated the stories of the Bellevue Japanese farmers who worked land that was unusable with stumps after logging, and turned it into fertile farm land. They produced much of what was sold at Pike Place Market before the incarceration.

 

“Emerging Radiance Honoring the Nikkei Farmers of Bellevue “ with  audio narratives from 3 Bellevue farmers from the Densho archives.The archives have a huge digital library
including over 900 video oral histories about the WWII Japanese American incarceration.

 

Much of this current exhibition is recent work, figurative images filled with symbolic references

 

 

We see the horse in the background as a mother holds her baby in a blanket. It makes reference to the fact that the first stop during the removal of Nikkei (Japanese diaspora) in Washington State
was the Puyallup Fair Grounds, where people of Japanese descent were forced to live in the horse stalls.

 

Michelle:

“Mother cradles her child, wrapped in an Army blanket in their temporary home in horse stables at the state fairgrounds. She protects her baby from the effects of war, the hatred and racism, creating a camouflage shelter covered with carp, a symbol of strength, courage, patience and perseverance.”

 

You can see the carp on the blanket.

 

Moving to Brazil:

 

“Alcançar (Reach)” has a carefully chosen selection of patterns, each with specific meaning:

 

Michelle:

“The woman raises her arms, building strength from snakes and butterflies, as the brilliant blossoms of the Pau Brasil, the national tree of Brazil, dance on the folded fan. The shadows of crown of thorns branches fade behind.

 

What does it mean to be Japanese Brazilian? How does one navigate their own heritage, ethnicity and claim their own identity?”

 

The color of her face is intentional. We see a woman looking into the distance, buoyed up by the snakes and butterflies. It is a positive image, her expression is one of perseverence and hope.

Kumata paints with specifically chosen imagery in brilliant color so her artwork becomes a celebration at the same time that it is honoring the difficulties these people experienced.

 

 

 

Again we see thorns here in “Espinos (Thorns).”

“The Nikkeijin may be culturally, ethnically and linguistically Brazilian, but very often they are seen as ‘false nationals.’ With the economic success of Japan, the image has altered, but the Nikkeijin are still presented in the Brazilian media as ‘foreigners’ and not as Brazilians.” ~ From “Migrants and Identity in Japan and Brazil: The Nikkeijin” Daniela de Carvalho, 2003, p. 65

 

You might miss the meaning here without looking carefully. The color of the face is intentionally two toned, divided. Thorns pass over his face, and snakes fill his hat, but in the background we see a celebratory red and orange filled with butterflies.

 

In “Cobras (Snakes),” 2021, the woman and child are silenced by the snakes, slithering across the foreground. This is again, the idea of silence.

From “Migrants and Identity in Japan and Brazil: The Nikkeijin.” Daniela de Carvalho

 

“Not being Japanese was particularly important, and although almost all Nisei had attended Nihongakko (Japanese language school), they did their best to forget what they had learned or to pretend they had never learned Japanese. It was believed that despite physical differences, not speaking Japanese and knowing little about Japanese culture would mean being identified (and accepted) as entirely Brazilian.”

 

This exhibition glows with color and pattern even as it gives us a history we know so little about in Brazil, and a new perspective on the incarceration experience here.

“Healing,” represents survival:

“Barbed wire flows from the heart, releasing a brilliant shibori firework. The verb “shiboru” means to wring, squeeze and press.” Fabric is twisted, folded, stitched and dyed in this intricate technique, resulting in beautiful, unexpected patterns. Hope flows as we find ways to heal.” ~ Michelle Kumata

 

Daniel Alexander Jones I Choose to Remember Us Whole (Altar no 3)

 

 

 

 

“I Choose to Remember Us Whole (Altar no 3)”, a project by Daniel Alexander Jones

On a sunny midday in May, I joined about 50 people for a procession sponsored by Meany Center for the Performing Arts that was part of “I Choose to Remember Us Whole (Altar no 3).” Daniel Alexander Jones, an artist, theatre artist, singer, performance artist, and educator, imagined the idea and invited Seattle artists to collaborate. The title suggests the purpose, healing by reconnecting to unseen forces.

The performance began at the Henry Art Gallery with the artist singing about wholeness, accompanied by Walter Kitundu playing a harp like instrument.

We were encouraged to wear earthy colors:  I wore a bright green tee shirt from my Qi Gong class (which turned out to be the perfect prelude to the afternoon). A number of young women dressed in various shades of yellow began to dance. A drum beat signaled the beginning of the procession. As we passed through some trees the dancers  reached to the sky then to the earth. It was a gesture familiar to me from QiGong, receiving positive energy from trees and giving stale energy back to the earth.

 

“I Choose to Remember Us Whole (Altar no 3)” is a new iteration of a project that Jones created at Cal Arts Center for New Performance called ALTARED STATES which:

“invites participants into an intentional relationship with unseen forces that shape our lived realities, including waves of history, culture, cosmology, and Soul. Altars have traditionally served as meeting places between the material and the numinous, among and across a range of cultures and artistic forms.”

 

Our invitation to wholeness embraced these forces. “What would it feel like to remember and to be remembered as whole beings? What would change? What would enable wholeness? And what can we do to embrace as whole what now seems irrevocably torn asunder? “

That’s the artist in yellow, and Valerie Curtis Newton on the left.

 

 

Valerie Curtis-Newton, the head of the Drama Department at UW,

greeted us at the “The Wisdom Walk”, in the courtyard of the art building.  We were asked to take a prompt, walk a labyrinth and write in a book at the center of the labyrinth in response to the prompt.  My prompt was “what do you wish someone had told you when you were five years old?”

 

 

Diana Garcia-Snyder head of Dance department and her students

led us throughout the procession and performed periodically.IMG_2893

Our second stop “Altar to Interdimensional Entanglements” by Afroditi Psarra, a (Multidisciplinary Artist and Associate Professor, UW Digital Arts and Experimental Media DXARTS) intervened in a preexisting public art installation of metal chairs set in open metal structures. Afroditi (who is Greek – Aphrodite, Goddess of Love!) hung knitted fabrics as portals on the scaffolding of the outdoor rooms. Collaborating with AI (!) through prompts such as “black holes” and “warped passage,” she knitted patterns. Each hanging composed a different sound when we stroked the fabric.

That’s the artist dressed in yellow

 

Not far away at Leon Finley’s “Altar to the Death of the Sun” we were asked to think for a minute about “what will we become when the sun burns out”. We faced West  across this walll covered with dirt and spoke our answer out loud.

 

The fourth destination Altheo Rao’s “Chestful of Whispers” at the UW Farm near the southwest corner of the campus, focused on fertility with history, poetry and planting seeds.

Then the procession wound its way to the end of Rainier Vista for the grand finale: Timothy White Eagle’s “Sacrificier Les Vivants” (sacrifice the living). White Eagle has long experience with ritual performances: we experienced death and resurrection through stories, and actions. Here IMG_2908 is a short clip.  Finally, he offered us fireweed tea brewed from the first plant to grow back after a forest fire.

 

 

So we experienced a sequence of rituals that expanded our spiritual and emotional wellbeing.  As a mystic, Daniel Alexander Jones seeks to collaborate in our recovery after the shattering events of the pandemic. Instead of presenting his own experience through art, we were expected to be part of the process of exploration.

 

 

 

Fortunately my Qi Gong practice works with unseen energy (Qi) in our organs, bones, and spirits:  a good foundation for a procession to wholeness. I have not achieved wholeness of course, but this event was another step in the process.

Post script

Until July 9, the Henry Art Gallery displayed an altar that was the starting point for Altar no 3 ( sorry no image) , a collaboration with several artists from WaNaWari, expanded with parts of the five altars that we visited.  You can contribute to this installation by writing about “what would it feel like to remember and to be remembered as whole beings? What would change? What would enable wholeness?”

The installations at the Henry Art Gallery included these artists , a [ublic participation piece  well as WaNaWari artists

We responded with prompts and hung them on a “tree”

Inye Wokoma(WaNaWari) altar

 

 

 

Elisheeba Johnson (WaNaWari)

 

Valerie Curtis Newton, prompts and answers

 

 

Timothy White Eagle

 

 

Altheo Rao

 

Afroditi Psarra

 

 

Leon Finley

Antelope, The Hop and Turner

 

In London Trafalgar Square on the Fourth Plinth we saw “Antelope”

by Samson Kambalu from Malawi

It restages a photograph of a Baptist preacher  and pan Africanist

 

John Chilembwe and European missionary John Chorley as a sculpture

“The photograph was taken in 1914 at the opening of Chilembwe’s new church in Nyasaland, now Malawi. Chilembwe has his hat on , defiying the colonial rule that forbade Africans frm wearing hats in front of white people. A year larter, he led an uprsisint against colonial rule. Chilembwe was killed and his church was destroyed by the coloonial police.

Chilembwe is larger than life, while Chorley is life-size, revealing the hidden narratives of underrepresented peoples in the history of the British Empire in Africa and Beyond”

 

The Hop

outside the Hayward Gallery we saw The Hop by Jyll Bradley

honoring working class Londoners who escaped the pollution of the city to be paid to harvest hops in rural England.

 

And finally, at the Tate Britain I end with JMW Turner whose images of disaster catastrophe, floods, fires, Destruction of Sodom,  Snowstorm ( Hannibal crossing the Alps), The Flood, Whalers,

seem like where we are today!

 

 

 

 

 

Contemporary Art in Cathedrals : Lincoln and Ely

On our recent trip to the UK to visit Henry’s wonderful familly, he wanted to visit two cathedrals, Lincoln and Ely. With a few logistical tricks and help from the family we made it to both! After we went I could see why he wanted to see them so much.

Here is Lincoln Cathedral, from the nearby castle, the interior and from the side. The Romaneque church was built by the Normans who apparently brought a lot of masons and other skilled workers with them. The city goes back to the Romans and has a few Roman structures .

 

It also has what I learned from a brochure was “The Secret Jewish Heritage of Lincoln.” It dates back to 1159, “second only to London in numbers, wealth, and scholarship,remaining prominent right up to the expulsion of the Jews from England in 1290” . Jews are readmitted to England under Oliver Cromwell, but in Lincoln a community didn’t reappear until late 18thc which lasted to mid 19th. Then many Jews came during World War II, but a community wasn’t reestablished until 1992.

 

Looking at the beautiful cathedral, we see Romanesque carvings on the West front, which we were told is meant to be the gates of heaven, and impress us, it is a portal to the sacred.

 

Across the entrance are a row of kings starting with Edward III. I like the one in the middle with his bare legs crossed, apparently that is King John who got a new leg. The kings receive authority from God.

 

Here is a relief of devils seducing sinners and the original color scheme!.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Noah’s Ark

 

Much as I love Romanesque sculpture, my real theme here is inside the Cathedral the Stations of the Cross by a contemporary artist. I thought they were really moving.

This is no 1 The whole series of Stations of the Cross, here called “The Forest Stations” were created by William Fairbank

“Jesus a Man of Truth is Condemned to Death by the crowd, through their government.”

 

 

no 2 The truth is beaten and flogged and roped to the execution beam.

 

no 3

He falls  under pressure from without

 

 

 

 

no 5 He is helped by his mother

You can see from these examples how moving each piece is.

 

Lincoln Cathedral also had a chapel painted by Bloomsbury artist Duncan Grant- theme is St Blaise, patron saint of wool gatherers

He included a lot of his friends! then the chapel was closed when the church discovered he was homosexual until 1990!

 

 

 

Ely Cathedral had a single piece of contemporary art at the entrance

But the story of Ely is feminist! Founded by St Etheldreda! She was a Saxon princess married off for political reasons, but her first husband died and left her the land that Ely is on. Then she was married again to a Northumbrian Prince, but refused to consummate the marriage. He let her go to be a nun!, until his father died then as King he wanted her to start breeding, but she ran away!! went back to Ely, founded a monastery that later became the site of this cathedral.

 

 

 

East Anglian Princess

Northumbrian Queen

Nun at Coldingham

( Northumberland)

Abbess at Ely

She never consumated her marriages so was able to be given sainthood! The church was visited by thousands of pilgrims honoring her.

 

 

 

Here is the exterior

 

And the interior with the famous octagonal dome

and its model

 

 

 

We left just two days before the coronation.

England was going crazy with paraphernalia

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nalini Malani at the National Gallery London “My Reality is Different”

 

 

 

Nalini Malani’s immersive animated installation at the National Gallery London plunges us into a world of bizarre figures, creatures, and energy waves that swirl and constantly change shape as they invade the complacency of the people in famous European paintings, bit by bit . Nalini Malini

(That’s a clip from the installation. It has to be downloaded, but it is short)

 

Chosen for the first National Gallery Contemporary Fellowship, gave Malani the opportunity for a new direction in her multimedia work. She selected a group of 24  paintings from the National Gallery, London, and several from the Holburne Museum in Bath, then bascially attacked them with dramatic animation drawings created with her finger on an ipad.

 

The amazing complexity of pattern, color, texture and image speaks to the artist’s command of this new medium which she has been working in for several  years in short animations that she posted on Instagram.

 

The animations are agitated, threatening and occasionally playful.

We see only fragments of the original works.

 

The result is a dizzying array of images that are in constant motion, accompanied by a sound track that is a long lament by Cassandra who predicted the Fall of Troy, but no one believed her. What better mythic character for our times, when no one is changing their ways as we approach the precipice of no return on our climate

The overall theme is an attack on colonialism and white patriarchy based on the idea that “My Reality is Different”

 

So for example

Johann Zoffany’s The Auriol and Dashwood Families 1783 to 87

an image based on a painting of three influential families in Bengal India. The man in the green jacket on the right receiving a letter was an administrator of the East India Company. It shows the hierarchy of wealthy white British and their Indian servants

On the right you see clearly that same man with the green jacket, as well as some of the other members of his family, but the portrait is torn apart and basically undermined by Malani’s caricaturesque drawings.

Here is another example, harder to see. Caravaggio’s Supper at Emmeus and Malani overlay. You can see the detail of the Supper in the middle.

 

 

 

Nalini plucked the face of Darius from the huge painting by Veronese The Family of Darius before Alexander. The painting is an example of Alexander treating the defeated Persian king kindly, but the subject of course is imperialism as Alexander marched through country after country all the way to India.

 

Most of the source paintings Malini chose are examples of either arrogance, colonialism, or, in some cases feminism ( as in the Head of John the Baptist or Samson and Delilah).

In the gold cirecle is only the head of the Angel Gabriel, half of an Annuciation scene from the 15th century.

 

Malani most frequently excerpts heads and hands from the original paintings, it is fun to spot them and trace them to the original works.

But of course that is so Eurocentric of me! The main point is the many many other figures that race through the video, and those shadowy portraits of people exist on the margins of this imperial world of white people.

 

As  you immerse yourselves in the room, surrounded on four walls by animation, the dizzying array of images overwhelms us ( that is the point). The source images disappear or flash by in small fragments as we see their decimation and fragmentaion.

The installation is an attack on Western imperialism as seen in these paintings full of complacent white people, conquerors, rapists and even a scientist suffocating a bird.

The artist projected a 9 channel installation in what she called the “animation chamber”. Each channel had three looped videos of about 3 minutes each. In the catalog she lists all the source paintings, but she illustrates only the ghostly figures who have been added by the artists so the “subaltern can speak”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is a sequence that almost captures the effect of constant metapmophosis, you can recognize some repeated figures ( note creature in a heavy yellow outline, and running figure to left) and at the end the traces of that same painting by Zoffany of the East India families and their servants of color.

In addition to the layers of animations, the installation also includes a sound track, it of course is also consisting of several elements:

the sound of a sailing ship on the sea, “Rule Britannia” interrupted by a folk song sung by an Indian woman. Thefocal point, though, is the long chanted poem in the identity of Cassandra who is of course the prophetess of Troy who precidted its fall and no one believed her.

She could not be more pertinent today. ( it was adapted from Christa Wolf’s Cassandra:A Novel and Four Essays by the artist and Alaknanda Samarth)

 

 

At the Tate Modern Part II Maria Bartuszová and Magdalena Abacanowicz

I just read an editorial  by Eddie Chambers in the Art Journal, that women artists are still being slighted in the art world and by art historians. Price wise their art has much less value and they are not given the same attention in museums because, Chambers declares that curators say they are “in hock” to commercially successful contemporary artists.

 

Hopefully that is changing.   I saw this book The History of Art Without Men, for sale at the National Gallery, London, when I went there to see the amazing Nalini Malani exhibition ( more on that soon), and at the Tate Modern there were three major exhibitions of work by women.

The first is Cecilia Vicuna, just discussed above.

The work of the second artist Maria Bartuszová. (1936 – 1996)

you see at the top of this review.

A sculptor from Slovakia,

 

 

first a Communist country, then a former Communist country ( a monumental fact that is oddly omitted from her biography- as is much else)  she was not seen in exhibitions outside her country during her lifetime.

 

Bartuszova’s exhibition is part of an initiative at the Tate Modern that includes Cecilia Vicuna and Magdalena Abakanowicz, presenting women artists who have revolutionised modern sculpture.  All three of these artists are from outside the “Western” world,  Communist Czechoslavakia-Slovakia, Peru – indigenous, and Poland also Communist.

 

Bartuszová is the least well known of the three artists. She was able to support herself under Communism with public commissions. But her public work was not ideological, but abstract.

 

She learned about mainstream art from books while she was living in Košice the  second largest city in Slovakia, deep in central Europe not far from the border of Ukraine and Hungary. She moved there from Prague and its exciting intellectual community lured by possibilities of public art commissions in a rapidly expanding city, and inexpensive housing.

 

As she was raising her small children she had the idea of casting plaster over balloons., often submerging the forms in water in a technique she called “gravistiumlated shaping” as th weight of the plaster determined the shape of the sculpture.

From there she began to blow into the balloons and poured plaster over them , she called it ‘pneumatic casting’ the result was a fragility  that evokes eggs or shells.

 

She also created temporary works in nature and later in her life hung her work in trees.

The playful quality of the work pairs with an intense feeling for nature and original forms that create a lyrical presence. She was familiar with Luca Fontana and Brancusi, and we see that in these works.

So we can place her in the cerebral, sensual category of contemporary sculpture, courting the line between abstraction and naturalism.

 

 

Magdalena Abakanowicz “Every Tangle of Thread and Rope” 

 

While Maria Bartuszová creates fragile intimate works,  Magdalena Abacanowicz creates  large muscular pieces made from sisal as well as horsehair and hemp.  The works called “abacans” to indicate her originality (named after her) moved  in her early career from the wall

 

to the middle of the gallery, taking on a creature like presence. As we walk among them we feel the innate energies of nature. in this one we see a fibrous connection between two lung like shapes.

 

 

Abacanowica was born in 1930 to Tartar Russian Polish nobility, at the beginning of the war they retreated deep into the forest, then they lost everything. that experience in the forest deeply marked the artist, and she feels strongly the power of the forest.

In her late work she turned to trees themselves

 

 

“Arboreals symbolise our concern with nature, which neglected and abused by man, now turns against him with vengeance. They remind us that a tree is our friend; it gives shade and oxygen, bears fruit, shelters birds and animals and makes climate hospitable to all ”

 

“I use the tree as a metaphor for the ecological architecture of the 21st century, just as the human body served as a metaphor for the shape of a Romanesque cathedral. ”

Both of these artists are immersed in nature, and concern for its future. Both grew up under Communism, but supported themselves as artists. Abacanowicz gained great esteem while Maria Bartuszova was unknown. I am thankful they are side by side now at the Tate, as it gives us in both cases a highly original approach to sculpture using organic materials.

At the Tate Modern Part I: Cecilia Vicuña

We missed the Cecilia Vicuña full installation. It was being taken down when we were there, but the label and a piece of it was still

visible

Since I didn’t fully experience it, I give you the label information:

 

“In the Andes people did not write, they wove meaning into textiles and knotted cords. Five thousand years ago they created the quipu (knot), a poem in space, a way to remember, involving the body and the cosmos at once. A tactile, spatial metaphor for the union of all. The quipu and its virtual counterpart, the ceque ( a system of sightlines connecting all communities in the Andes) were banished after the European Conquest. Quipus were burnt, but the quipu did not die. It symbolic dimension and vison of interconnectivity endures in Andean culture today.” Cecilia Vicuña

 

“27 meters pale ghostly, quipu sculptures hang from the ceiling at opposite ends of the Turbine Hall. Cecilia Vicuña’s Brain Forest Quipu continues her long-standing work with the ancient Andean tradition of the quipu. Woven together from different materials including found objects, unspun wool, plant fibres, rope and cardboard, the sculptures are combines with music and voice that emerge at mements as you move through the space.

 

This multi-media installation is an act of mourning for the destruction of the forests, the subsequent impact of climate change, and the violence against indigenous peoples. It is also an opportunity to create a space for new voices and forms of knowledge to be heard and understood, as we take responsibility for our part in the destruction.

 

Vicuña’s reimagining of the quipu contains a number of layers, sculptural, sonic, social and digital. She invites us into the “Dead Forest Quipu,” a pair of sculptures whose skeletal forms draw attention to the severity of the climate crisis and the delicate nature of our ecosystems. Their bone-white colour reminds us of bleached bark of trees killed by drought or intentional fire and other dried-out substances like snakeskin.

 

Placing the sculptures at either end of the Turbine Hall, Vicuña creates an alternative architecture binding the two ends of the space. Made from a range of organic materials and items collected from the banks of the River Thames by women from local Latin American communities, the work extends Vicuña’s practice of assembling found, imperfect and modest materials that she calls precarios (precarious).

 

The ‘Dead Forest Quipu’ sculptures are accompanied by a ‘Sound Quipu’ playing from within the sculpture and under the bridge. This sonic element, conceived by Colombian composer Ricardo Gallo, brings together indigenous music from several regions, compositional silences, new pieces by Gallo, Vicuña, and other artists, and field recordings from nature.

 

The interwoven moments of sound and silence span 8 hours of sonic breathing and symbolize the earth’s life in the face of the loss taking place across the globe.

 

The ‘Digital Quipu’ weaves together videos of indigenous activists and land defenders from regions around the world who are using digital platforms to amplify their calls. Shown on video monitors throughout the building and online, the Digital Quipu offers political and economic context for the material realities faced by communities in the ongoing struggle to protest and preserve their respective ancestral territories, communities and traditions.

 

What Vicuña describes as the ‘social weaving’ will extend through a ‘Quipu of Encounters: Rituals and Assemblies’. This series of global events, or ‘knots of action’, connect ancient Andean tradition and contemporary culture, inviting visitors to become active participants in the prevention of climate catastrophe.

 

Vicuña writes ‘ the Earth is a brain forest and the quipu embraces all its interconnections.’ Brought together , the elements of Brain Forest Quipu emphasize the contradiction and complexity of our time. This entanglement of our bodies – with both the material world of nature and the places that we live – is enmeshed in the hive-mind of technology that connects us with each other, while isolating us in new and often uncertain ways.

 

Vicuña suggests that we are at the beginning of a new time, one where we must first become aware of our collective responsibility in order to change destructiveness, injustices and harm. Through Brain Forest Quipu she invites us to create spaces for imagining and dreaming so that we can ‘bring our heart-minds together to give life to a new forest in a spirit of reparation.’”

 

Here are a few press photos:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had a Cecilia Vicuña exhibition in Seattle in June 2019  that I wrote about on this blog. On that occasion I was fortunate to attend a poetry reading performance at which we created a community by winding a quipu around us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We can hope that the survival of this ancient knowledge which colonialism tried so hard to wipe out, will also provide us with a way to the future on our troubled planet.

Mike Nelson’s “Extinction Beckons” at the Hayward Gallery London

 

 

 

 

“Extinction Beckons” by Mike Nelson gives us decay, nostalgia, destruction, resurrection, all layered in profoundly moving installations.

I first saw his work in Istanbul at the Büyük Valide Han, a caravanserai built in 1561.

That installation is one of several recreated at the Hayward, but my experience of seeing it in its first incarnation is worth quoting here:

 

“Mike Nelson lived for several weeks in a crumbling market building in Istanbul, defying the usual segregation of Biennial art from ordinary people. He set up a dark room, took photographs of the Büyük Valide Han, made friends with the elderly craftsmen living there, hung up his negatives and photographs, and then left town.

 

Not far from the more famous Grand Bazaar, it required alert navigation through streets packed with people shopping to find the Han. The quiet courtyard felt like a dying historical space, but on entering the shop of a weaver the loud slam of his enormous antique loom filled the air. He took pride in his work, as did his father and grandfathers. In Nelson’s workshop, in semidarkness, hung his photographs of the weaver and other people he met, as well as of the ancient building itself. ”

[Here are my photos of the installation in Istanbul in 2003;  in London it has some of the same elements, but lacks the total context of the building as a whole and the people who worked there. ]

 

“But Nelson’s work was not about him, nor about the photographs—it was about respect for the history and the poetry of the building and its workers—soon to be swept away by disintegration and globalization. Most art critics found Nelson’s area shut and believed they had missed seeing the art work. In fact, they had missed seeing the point of the art work, which was about the life and history of the ancient building and its aged workers. The fact that they thought they had missed something was perfect “poetic justice.” (  quoted in my book Art and Politics Now, 2010)”

 

“Poetic Justice” was the title of the 2003 8th Istanbul Biennial, curated by Dan Cameron, in which Nelson showed this work. He has subsequently shown it in Venice and now at the Hayward, where it is embedded in a series of disorienting installations that require us to again navigate carefully.

We  had a personal guide through the exhibition. Her name was Charity

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These strange objects, belong to various odd reference points.

a gambling den, a captain’s bar and a travel agent’s office.

 

“The rooms are deserted, but convey a feeling of unease as if they have only recently been vacated . . .

The title refers to a 17th century shipwreck, the survivors of which ( many of them prisoniers or indentured laboureres) attemted to create a free society in Bermuda before they were forced to build new ships The Deliverance and the Patience – to continue their journey to Virginia. ”

 

So how does the title fit with what we experience and what we see. Ideals of travel as freedom as opposed to forced travel, gambling as a hope for a better life usually lost in addiction,  a Marxixt manifesto, again a hope that has not been realized.

 

The next part of the exhibition called “I Imposter” recreated Nelson’s photographic studio in the Buyuk Valide Han.

 

Another major installation “Triple Bluff Canyon”

layered references to Smithson’s early work “Partially Buried Woodshed,” with references evoking the deserts of the Middle East destroyed by war.

The exploded tires were gathered near the M25 motorway and Nelson sees them as sculptures that speak to the violence of our society.

Note the reference to Shell in the buried pipeline.

 

The next part of the exhibition included extensive references to obsolete tools now enshrined as sculpture.

 

 

 

The next installation Amnesiac referred in its title to a fictious biker gang. Imaginary creatures and an imaginary fire from junk

 

The largest installation and most peculiar had this strange title;

‘Studio Apparatus for Kunsthalle Munster – A thematic instalment observing the Calindrical Celebration of its inception: Introduction; towards a linear understanding of notoriety, power, and their interconnectedness, furtuobjext ( misspelt); mysterious  island** see introduction of Barothic Shift”

I don’t know what most of this means, but here is the installation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The whole experience was unsettlng to say the least. Let’s go back to the title “Extinction Beckons” and that helps to put it all together. All of Nelson’s materials are gathered from junk yards, extinction, but he has brought them into a new environment, an art gallery! at the same time  extinction is beckoning us, and part of the reason is a profligate disregard for what we throw away and the companies packaging all that plastic. So yes, extinction does beckon, and walking through a series of disorienting spaces can perhaps give us pause about what we are doing to our planet.