Ha! I did a Substack with the exact same Sarah Lucas Chicken Nickers cover thumbnail last year for my Art Basel roundup. Love this work. One of my favorite evocative photos.
Thanks for exposing me to the work of Chun Kwang Young - a great example of art that resonates just upon seeing it and grows more compelling once you hear the story behind it. Your desire to touch the work resonated for me even seeing it via the video. Was particularly taken with his comment, what am I doing in America and went back home to his authentic place/roots. Sometimes I think the shoulds of the outside world make it too noisy to hear/follow the interior whispers.
This was such an enjoyable read to sink into on so many levels. I was thinking how relieved I was to not be the only one who really doesn't like the stark white walls of exhibitions. I saw a Monet show back in college, I think in Paris, that had been curated so that the light and the temperature darkened as his work was chronologically shown, so that by the end, when he was losing his eye-sight, the last pieces were hung in dim light on deep purple walls, so you had the sensation of straining to see. It was amazing and stays with me to this day. Also, same reaction when I first saw El Anatsui's work at the Fowler when he was first blowing up. The sheer shimmering beauty of it was like nothing I'd ever seen. I am going to try to make the show at the Tate if I can. And thanks for sharing again about Chun Kwang Young's work. I really want to see that work too. (I saw an amazing show in a chapel in Venice a few years back and the atmosphere was perfect for the work).
Oh wow, the Monet exhibition sounds inspired! Thanks for your thoughts Mary Jo and so delighted to hear you enjoyed reading this. If you do come to London let's please definitely meet up and look at some art together! The Women in Revolt Tate show focuses just on the British feminist art scene. There is so much info dug up from archives that had probably not been looked at much, and it made me wonder how many archives there are out there across the world containing information about female artists that have been obscured from history and our knowledge.
I would love to go see some art together! I agree, there's probably so much in the archives of obscured female artists. Will be in touch about my upcoming travel.
I've just come back from seeing El Anatsui's installion at Tate Modern (as well as the fantastic Philip Guston show) and I remember seeing Chun Kwang Young's incredible work in Edinburgh a few years ago. I think part of what draws us to these works is the sheer density of time they contain, the thousands and thousands of hours of painstaking work contained in their making. Somehow that gives them a kind of presence. It's as if they inhabit time differently and invite us to do the same, and to realise that each a single moment doesn't just have duration, it also has the potential for depth, for amplitude. I think certain spaces amplify this, while others dilute it, and the 'white cube' gallery is one of them.
I love taking my time at Tate Modern. When you need a bit of a break from all the art, I can highly recommend taking a bit of a nap sitting on the comfy sofas next to the escalators, perhaps with a restorative flask of tea and a book to read! :-)
Thanks for your thoughtful reply, Samantha. I love this idea you, and how you phrase 'what draws us to these works is the sheer density of time they contain'. And 'it's as if they inhabit time differently and invite us to the do the same'. Lovely - I wish I had thought to say that! I think you're right.
Thanks Victoria. To be fair, I was perhaps slightly tangential to your main point about contexts and spaces! But you got me thinking about how some spaces invite us to linger and others move us along briskly. When I went to see the incredible Stonehenge exhibition at the British Museum a couple of years ago it was mobbed, and I felt I was being shuffled along too quickly to really absorb it all. I'd recently recovered from a broken ankle so I felt justified in pinching one of those neat little foldable stools they give out, and just plonked myself down on it whenever I wanted to pause. It was a revelation! The crowds just flow around you like you're not there. So now I always ask for one when I'm in a museum and want some peace and focus...my top tip for slow exhibition-viewing! ;-)
Ha! Yes, headaches, exactly. I think you have to be quite strategic about viewing art in traditional museum spaces. I mostly tend to see specific exhibitions, but when I'm looking at the permanent collection it's usually with my students and we're looking at particular themes or areas of art history. So it's contained.
Both the idea about the importance of the space in which art is shown and the idea of magnetism to a particular artwork are great ideas to ponder. Yes, there have been times when I am in the presence of "great" art (which I also think is great) but its placement makes me nonplussed, walking by rather quickly. Sometimes this is also due to the crowds in the room, while other times a crowd can make the art feel iconic and exciting. There is so much nuance and not an easy playbook for curators! I imagine it is difficult to fully grasp the concept before it's actually placed in the space.
A place I find interesting to look at art is an art fair - Art Basel in particular. Most of the time, I find it a bit overwhelming...there's just so much, not especially curated, and so many people. But then the magnetism of certain pieces shines through majestically, as if they have a certain aura that surpasses the experience. Last year, Hockney's huge mural depicting himself three times did this for me. I think it's also the intimacy of connection at these places - there are not many white taped lines or alarms, and there is the feeling that you can even take it home (ha!!), making it feel like you share something with the art rather than appreciating it from afar.
'there have been times when I am in the presence of "great" art (which I also think is great) but its placement makes me nonplussed, walking by rather quickly' YES EXACTLY! I'm interested in this idea of the crowds / other people, and how we respond to art. I have to admit yesterday at the Women in Revolt show at Tate Britain I was partly thinking 'come on, move!' to my fellow gallery companions when looking at the art, and partly absolutely thrilled by the presence of so many women of all ages looking at the work and talking about it, and the sound of laughing and, well, just the camaraderie I felt in that space. Women celebrating women. But now I'm off on another track... I tend not to go to art fairs because of the commercial element of it, but I think I need to rethink my thoughts around that. Another track... Thanks for your thought-provoking thoughts, as always!
As a young teenager I went to the La Jolla Contemporary and experienced Tony Oursler for the first time... Wandering around a corner to a small room off another room and seeing a “baby” pinned under an overturned chair, the face a grotesque projection-- I was so compelled and repelled to share space with this thing, it has stuck with me for decades.
I can’t claim to know the artists work that you’re talking about but I do connect with the importance of context and curation. Also the lack of touch when visiting these touching exhibitions. It was marvellous when the YSP allowed touching on the Henry Moores but now due to some abuse they’ve reinstated cordons and no touch policy.
My works all about touch texture and tactile experience. Yet it’s been exhibited under these same restrictions. It’s very difficult to renegotiate these parameters. Imagine if you could touch those huge Anselm Keiffer drawings.
YES! I often find myself wanting to stick my fingers into the swirls of paint in heavily impasto-ed paintings. Or even paintings that have a smooth surface, just to test the uniformity. It's a shame about the YSP, although I'm not sure how they would be able to police that. Of course a no-touch policy is understandable for most art, but for outdoor sculptures it seems a bit silly.
Lee Bontecou's early wall-hung sculptures would probably do for me what you are speaking about. They seem to exist as objects in space more than anything else.
A while ago there was a piece by Leslie Shows at the Bemis Gallery in my hometown of Omaha, made of hundreds of small objects she had cast out of pure sulfur. They were all sitting in a pile on the gallery floor, and I couldn't help myself . . . no one was watching, so I picked one up and licked it. It had a very mild sulfur taste.
I LOVE THIS ANECDOTE! Made me laugh. Some art is just so enticing that you want to consume it or know it through other senses. It makes me think about my relationship with music. I can turn up the volume on songs that move me (which I do), but then I have to touch out the beat to get more of it or something.
You are absolutely speaking my language here! As an artist my work is all about engaging our multi sensory (and multidimensional) faculties. There is a profound disconnect problem in the art world, which puts us into our heads and egos, and ultimately alienates those who “don’t understand it” or feel it doesn’t engage them sufficiently. To me, art *should* be immersive, not put behind barriers like a museum artefact. We are missing out on so much of the real joy and depth of art when we’re not “allowed” to be in a fully connective relationship with it. Also: that curtain is stunning, and though I haven’t seen it in real life, I can absolutely feel what my visceral, embodied reaction might be. Thank you for sharing!
Yes, 100% agree with everything you say here Zoe. I was at Tate Modern the other day with some students in their late teens, and they started dancing and playing with the effects of projected light in the darkness of one of the gallery spaces. It was joyful to see.
Thanks for another interesting and thoughtful post. You’ve reminded me of a sculptural artwork I saw recently by Alice Channer, which consists of shiny pleated fabric. It’s large, and I wanted to feel the fabric in all its tightness of form and smoothness. I might put a pic on Notes.
Oh yes! I love this - I once saw a giant flower sculpture by Petrit Halilaj & Alvaro Urbano in Arken Museum in Denmark. It had been hung in the corner of a sort of corridor with a low ceiling, against a dark blue wall, which made the physicality of it so intense - I rounded the corner and saw it and immediately burst into tears. It was so huge and beautiful and unexpected - such clever hanging.
El Anatsui’s work is beautiful. I think the setting of an old shop added to the history and antiquity of his pieces, making it a jewel that you have discovered. This would be lost in a white wall environment but maybe the actual form of the sculpture as a whole would be different but nevertheless a big impact as did the sculpture in the Tate
Ha! I did a Substack with the exact same Sarah Lucas Chicken Nickers cover thumbnail last year for my Art Basel roundup. Love this work. One of my favorite evocative photos.
Yes, I agree re the shoulds, and I love the way you have phrased it Laurie. I have lots of interior whispers that I don’t let myself hear!
Thanks for exposing me to the work of Chun Kwang Young - a great example of art that resonates just upon seeing it and grows more compelling once you hear the story behind it. Your desire to touch the work resonated for me even seeing it via the video. Was particularly taken with his comment, what am I doing in America and went back home to his authentic place/roots. Sometimes I think the shoulds of the outside world make it too noisy to hear/follow the interior whispers.
This was such an enjoyable read to sink into on so many levels. I was thinking how relieved I was to not be the only one who really doesn't like the stark white walls of exhibitions. I saw a Monet show back in college, I think in Paris, that had been curated so that the light and the temperature darkened as his work was chronologically shown, so that by the end, when he was losing his eye-sight, the last pieces were hung in dim light on deep purple walls, so you had the sensation of straining to see. It was amazing and stays with me to this day. Also, same reaction when I first saw El Anatsui's work at the Fowler when he was first blowing up. The sheer shimmering beauty of it was like nothing I'd ever seen. I am going to try to make the show at the Tate if I can. And thanks for sharing again about Chun Kwang Young's work. I really want to see that work too. (I saw an amazing show in a chapel in Venice a few years back and the atmosphere was perfect for the work).
Oh wow, the Monet exhibition sounds inspired! Thanks for your thoughts Mary Jo and so delighted to hear you enjoyed reading this. If you do come to London let's please definitely meet up and look at some art together! The Women in Revolt Tate show focuses just on the British feminist art scene. There is so much info dug up from archives that had probably not been looked at much, and it made me wonder how many archives there are out there across the world containing information about female artists that have been obscured from history and our knowledge.
I would love to go see some art together! I agree, there's probably so much in the archives of obscured female artists. Will be in touch about my upcoming travel.
Hi. Thanks for this discussion and the tip about Chun Kwang Young’s work.
Thanks Martin
I've just come back from seeing El Anatsui's installion at Tate Modern (as well as the fantastic Philip Guston show) and I remember seeing Chun Kwang Young's incredible work in Edinburgh a few years ago. I think part of what draws us to these works is the sheer density of time they contain, the thousands and thousands of hours of painstaking work contained in their making. Somehow that gives them a kind of presence. It's as if they inhabit time differently and invite us to do the same, and to realise that each a single moment doesn't just have duration, it also has the potential for depth, for amplitude. I think certain spaces amplify this, while others dilute it, and the 'white cube' gallery is one of them.
I'm scheduling a trip to the Tate Modern to see Philip Guston. I think I'm going to have to give myself the whole day!
I love taking my time at Tate Modern. When you need a bit of a break from all the art, I can highly recommend taking a bit of a nap sitting on the comfy sofas next to the escalators, perhaps with a restorative flask of tea and a book to read! :-)
Great tip. Thanks.
Thanks for your thoughtful reply, Samantha. I love this idea you, and how you phrase 'what draws us to these works is the sheer density of time they contain'. And 'it's as if they inhabit time differently and invite us to the do the same'. Lovely - I wish I had thought to say that! I think you're right.
Thanks Victoria. To be fair, I was perhaps slightly tangential to your main point about contexts and spaces! But you got me thinking about how some spaces invite us to linger and others move us along briskly. When I went to see the incredible Stonehenge exhibition at the British Museum a couple of years ago it was mobbed, and I felt I was being shuffled along too quickly to really absorb it all. I'd recently recovered from a broken ankle so I felt justified in pinching one of those neat little foldable stools they give out, and just plonked myself down on it whenever I wanted to pause. It was a revelation! The crowds just flow around you like you're not there. So now I always ask for one when I'm in a museum and want some peace and focus...my top tip for slow exhibition-viewing! ;-)
I’d love to see that El Anatsui piece! I always get headaches in traditional galleries. They are so dry.
Ha! Yes, headaches, exactly. I think you have to be quite strategic about viewing art in traditional museum spaces. I mostly tend to see specific exhibitions, but when I'm looking at the permanent collection it's usually with my students and we're looking at particular themes or areas of art history. So it's contained.
Certainly have gotten lost in El Anatsui works this way. Thanks for the great description of the piece.
Thank you Gabriel, glad to hear it resonated.
Both the idea about the importance of the space in which art is shown and the idea of magnetism to a particular artwork are great ideas to ponder. Yes, there have been times when I am in the presence of "great" art (which I also think is great) but its placement makes me nonplussed, walking by rather quickly. Sometimes this is also due to the crowds in the room, while other times a crowd can make the art feel iconic and exciting. There is so much nuance and not an easy playbook for curators! I imagine it is difficult to fully grasp the concept before it's actually placed in the space.
A place I find interesting to look at art is an art fair - Art Basel in particular. Most of the time, I find it a bit overwhelming...there's just so much, not especially curated, and so many people. But then the magnetism of certain pieces shines through majestically, as if they have a certain aura that surpasses the experience. Last year, Hockney's huge mural depicting himself three times did this for me. I think it's also the intimacy of connection at these places - there are not many white taped lines or alarms, and there is the feeling that you can even take it home (ha!!), making it feel like you share something with the art rather than appreciating it from afar.
Thanks for this thought provoking post!
'there have been times when I am in the presence of "great" art (which I also think is great) but its placement makes me nonplussed, walking by rather quickly' YES EXACTLY! I'm interested in this idea of the crowds / other people, and how we respond to art. I have to admit yesterday at the Women in Revolt show at Tate Britain I was partly thinking 'come on, move!' to my fellow gallery companions when looking at the art, and partly absolutely thrilled by the presence of so many women of all ages looking at the work and talking about it, and the sound of laughing and, well, just the camaraderie I felt in that space. Women celebrating women. But now I'm off on another track... I tend not to go to art fairs because of the commercial element of it, but I think I need to rethink my thoughts around that. Another track... Thanks for your thought-provoking thoughts, as always!
Nobody has reserved our sofa-bed yet this June! ;)
Also I've got to see that show at the Tate! Maybe I can work something out...
As a young teenager I went to the La Jolla Contemporary and experienced Tony Oursler for the first time... Wandering around a corner to a small room off another room and seeing a “baby” pinned under an overturned chair, the face a grotesque projection-- I was so compelled and repelled to share space with this thing, it has stuck with me for decades.
Oh wow, I bet that was something! Thanks for sharing, Lisette. You've inspired me to look at again at Tony's work.
Oh yes, many years ago, Oursler had my friends and I on our hands and knees in the (back then much smaller) Aspen Art Museum.
I can’t claim to know the artists work that you’re talking about but I do connect with the importance of context and curation. Also the lack of touch when visiting these touching exhibitions. It was marvellous when the YSP allowed touching on the Henry Moores but now due to some abuse they’ve reinstated cordons and no touch policy.
My works all about touch texture and tactile experience. Yet it’s been exhibited under these same restrictions. It’s very difficult to renegotiate these parameters. Imagine if you could touch those huge Anselm Keiffer drawings.
YES! I often find myself wanting to stick my fingers into the swirls of paint in heavily impasto-ed paintings. Or even paintings that have a smooth surface, just to test the uniformity. It's a shame about the YSP, although I'm not sure how they would be able to police that. Of course a no-touch policy is understandable for most art, but for outdoor sculptures it seems a bit silly.
Lee Bontecou's early wall-hung sculptures would probably do for me what you are speaking about. They seem to exist as objects in space more than anything else.
A while ago there was a piece by Leslie Shows at the Bemis Gallery in my hometown of Omaha, made of hundreds of small objects she had cast out of pure sulfur. They were all sitting in a pile on the gallery floor, and I couldn't help myself . . . no one was watching, so I picked one up and licked it. It had a very mild sulfur taste.
This is so funny. The urge to lick a piece of art is so specific It's surely something that should be studied.
I LOVE THIS ANECDOTE! Made me laugh. Some art is just so enticing that you want to consume it or know it through other senses. It makes me think about my relationship with music. I can turn up the volume on songs that move me (which I do), but then I have to touch out the beat to get more of it or something.
You are absolutely speaking my language here! As an artist my work is all about engaging our multi sensory (and multidimensional) faculties. There is a profound disconnect problem in the art world, which puts us into our heads and egos, and ultimately alienates those who “don’t understand it” or feel it doesn’t engage them sufficiently. To me, art *should* be immersive, not put behind barriers like a museum artefact. We are missing out on so much of the real joy and depth of art when we’re not “allowed” to be in a fully connective relationship with it. Also: that curtain is stunning, and though I haven’t seen it in real life, I can absolutely feel what my visceral, embodied reaction might be. Thank you for sharing!
Yes, 100% agree with everything you say here Zoe. I was at Tate Modern the other day with some students in their late teens, and they started dancing and playing with the effects of projected light in the darkness of one of the gallery spaces. It was joyful to see.
That’s so beautiful! I hope this is the future of art 😍
Thanks for another interesting and thoughtful post. You’ve reminded me of a sculptural artwork I saw recently by Alice Channer, which consists of shiny pleated fabric. It’s large, and I wanted to feel the fabric in all its tightness of form and smoothness. I might put a pic on Notes.
thanks Yasmin! Yes please, put it on Notes (and tag me so I don't miss it!)
Oh yes! I love this - I once saw a giant flower sculpture by Petrit Halilaj & Alvaro Urbano in Arken Museum in Denmark. It had been hung in the corner of a sort of corridor with a low ceiling, against a dark blue wall, which made the physicality of it so intense - I rounded the corner and saw it and immediately burst into tears. It was so huge and beautiful and unexpected - such clever hanging.
Gosh, that's a bodily response! Thanks for sharing this story. I don't know those artists, I'll look them up.
El Anatsui’s work is beautiful. I think the setting of an old shop added to the history and antiquity of his pieces, making it a jewel that you have discovered. This would be lost in a white wall environment but maybe the actual form of the sculpture as a whole would be different but nevertheless a big impact as did the sculpture in the Tate
Yes. They become different artworks in different spaces... So interesting. Thanks for reading and for your thoughts, Pauline.