The life and times of Urs Fischer’s “Francesco” at Canberra’s National Gallery of Australia
While our current situation is making it difficult to enjoy and share first-hand encounters with art, I’ve taken the opportunity to return to a work that left a lasting impression on me when I first saw it at Canberra’s National Gallery of Australia just over one year ago. I’m also taking the time (since there’s so much more of it!) to experiment with a video delivery of what I’d normally put into written word and still image. This is the first one, and it’s far from professional, but I’m willing to be wobbly with something new. Feel free to comment on either the content or the format – or both!
The “Invisible Man” makes an appearance at the Ballarat International Foto Biennale
A stark white wall of mobile phones. Shelves and shelves of magazines in an American news agency. Rows of blue and orange vinyl seats filling the UN’s General Assembly Hall. A mountain of stringy, rotten garbage. At a glance, and from a reasonable distance, these might be the quick summaries one’s eyes and brain make when looking at the photographic work of Liu Bolin. None of these descriptions sound particularly remarkable nor exceptional, but accept the invitation to look closer, and one will notice something quite extraordinary; each picture is disturbed by a faint and glassy shape. It is the barely visible form of a man, the artist himself, hiding in each frame in plain sight. Having mastered a unique practice that crosses and fuses photography, painting, performance and optical art, Liu Bolin cleverly camouflages himself with meticulous applications of acrylic paint (without digital manipulation) that allow him to blend almost seamlessly into backgrounds of environments that bare social, cultural or political importance. For Liu Bolin, the invisibility in which he veils himself and others in his artworks addresses tensions between society and the individual, and is symbolic of the powerlessness felt by those who identify as anonymous and insignificant.
Edging the eastern boundary of New York’s Central Park is 5th Avenue, arguably one of the most expensive and elegant streets in the world. A significant stretch of the avenue, located in Midtown Manhattan, is lined with prestigious boutiques and luxury flagship stores. However, a little further along 5th Avenue, towards the Upper East Side, lies “Museum Mile”, a picturesque length of the street that is home to several cultural institutions that house some of New York’s finest and most treasured collections of art, design and history from around the world.
While there is often a lot to be gleaned from the subject matter explored in art, there are instances when an artist’s choice of materials and techniques can make the meanings and ideas expressed in his/her artwork even more profound. I’ve chosen to share the work of two very unique APT9 artists, who have produced enormous commissions for the exhibition, with two key elements in common; both are comprised of thousands of objects intrinsically connected to cultural heritage and personal histories, and both have been shaped by empowering and meaningful practices and techniques.
transformation, community relationships and urban development in Cambodia are
central themes in Vuth Lyno’s work. His APT9 contribution, House – Spirit, is a beautiful and poignant sculptural construction
that references Phnom Penh’s iconic White Building, a vibrant residential hub
for artists, musicians and craftspeople, that stood in the heart of the city
until its demolition by a foreign developer in 2017.
The first Asia Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art (APT) was held at Queensland Art Gallery (QAG) in 1993. According to the exhibition catalogue, this made QAG the first art institution to comprehensively address the art of the region. Further to this, the aim of the exhibition was not to place Brisbane at the heart of the Asia Pacific art world, but to better comprehend, appreciate and connect with powerful work by artists who had their fingers on the pulse, coming to the fore from a dynamic and rapidly changing region, of which Australia was a significant part.
Hi there, and thanks for visiting “art4brunch”, a blog dedicated to sharing first-hand encounters with great art in museums, galleries and the outdoors.
My name is Leah, and I’m an art enthusiast and art educator. I truly love being around original works of art, and I am extremely fortunate to teach both in school contexts and in a culturally significant museum, making interactions with artworks a part of my regular routine, with the added enriching bonus of involving others, too.
Exploring the endless and ever-evolving world of art enlivens and moves me so much that I recently decided I needed to share what I experience with others more readily. It’s as though interacting with great art fills me with such excitement and emotion that I can’t quite bottle it up! I hope that “art4brunch” might serve not only as channel into which I can pour my experiences with and interpretations of art, but also reach, inform and inspire others, as well as relieve my attentive and loving partner from the thumping “I NEED TO TELL YOU ABOUT THIS AMAZING ART NOW!” tsunami that frequently bombards his downtime. (I don’t think he minds, though, really.)
When coming up for the name of this blog, I reflected on what might be my favourite meal; brunch. Sometimes, being in front of a work of art can feel like ingesting an eight-course meal with matching wines all at once; the indulgence leaves you feeling a bit too satisfied, amazed, giddy and probably in need of a stroll. Rather than assault readers with too much detail, information and interpretation jargon, I’d like to present them with a nice, rounded and visually delightful account of what I’ve experienced that might equate more to a pleasant brunch with friends on a Sunday than an extravagant, gluttonous eight-course dinner.
For even tinier entree-sized art bites, you can follow art4brunch on Instagram. This stream of photos will direct you to what’s happening here – which is nice, if you’re like me and appreciate gentle, visual reminders.
Thanks again for stopping by, and stay tuned for future deliciously digestible interpretations of my encounters with great art in galleries, museums and the outdoors. I really can’t wait to share them with you!