Posts relating to arts projects (writing, curating, etc.)

  • Crease 4

    Discussion: MJ Kjarr with Sriwhana Spong

    Artist Sriwhana Spong’s conceptual visual practice embodies a spirit of exploration into relatively uncharted waters. Spong’s recent video Muttnik for example is an investigation into her Balinese heritage, which is to some extent a foreign quantity as she was raised outside of Bali. There is a deliberately fragile and subjective form of indexicality in Spong’s practice which for me brings to mind the museological aspect of possible antecedents such as Marcel Broodthaers Museum of Modern Art, Department of Eagles, among others. In keeping with the nature of her artistic practice we agreed it was more appropriate to attempt a critical discourse as an explorative process rather than trying to create a series of ‘answers.’ The following discussion was conducted via email early in June 2005.

    MJ Kjarr: A decorative, museological and personal experience of individual heritage appears to be an ongoing concern within your practice. For instance, the outcome of your Muttnik investigations originates from somewhat unknown traditions within your Balinese history/culture. I am interested in how your findings per se are retrieved in order to accommodate your position as a “cultural stray” from Balinese history and traditions.

    Sriwhana Spong: As I understand it Balinese Offerings are necessary and daily gifts made to express gratitude to gods, or help placate demons. These unseen inhabitants are honored guests to the Balinese and therefore all gifts must be both beautiful and symbolic. In Muttnik I deliberately took these offerings out of context, mimicking the Balinese use of everyday materials, to determine their final forms. Their original symbolic meaning or function was not my intent, so they became shadows harking back to an original source. Located in the fog somewhere between being lost and found.

    MJ Kjarr: I recently read the following quote from Charles Harrison’s ‘Further Essay’s on Art and Language’ in which Art and Language described a view that may apply to your practice: “The decorative in our sense absconds from the meaningful. . . There is nothing of course that is incapable of being meaningful in some sense, and of course one person’s or perspective’s decoration is another’s votive object. So there are no absolutely decorative items.” The impossibility of definite meaning that Art and Language describe seems corollary to your Muttnik series. In some regards you are allowing viewers to interact with content purely by engaging their own syntactical viewpoint and personal experience?

    Sriwhana Spong: In his 1877 talk The Decorative Arts Their Relation To Modern Life And Progress, William Morris describes all decorative forms which seem to serve a purely aesthetic function as having once had a ‘meaningful’ symbolic origin, much like the models in Muttnik. Morris writes: “I do not think it is too much to say that no man, however original he may be, can sit down to-day and draw the ornament of a cloth, or the form of an ordinary vessel or piece of furniture, that will be other than a development or a degradation of forms used hundreds of years ago; and these, too, very often, forms that once had a serious meaning, though they are now become little more than a habit of the hand.” An object or form never looses its original meaning: history just misplaces it. It seems that our perception of an ordered, progressive time finds nothing, and loses just about everything.

    MJ Kjarr: With regard to the “stray” position of your practice I am interested to know how you view the exploration of Balinese traditions inherent with the Muttnik series. For instance are the unknown areas of your exploration relative to particular Western art ideas such as The Sublime?

    Sriwhana Spong: One vivid memory I have of Bali, is being present at a Hindu ceremony when a spirit entered the body of someone present. It was the strangest sound somewhere between a baby crying, and a dog barking. It was an event completely normal and everyday to the Balinese present, but it made me understand my place as an outsider where surface is privileged. It was one of those ‘moments’ where the world becomes a much bigger, more irrational, and slightly scary place. I read Balinese offerings as a physical point of mediation between the Balinese and their gods, much like doorways/portals to the unknown, and reminiscent of Cape Kennedy launch pads to other planets and beyond. To take these forms out of context could be read like polite plundering; to add humour, such as strings of cigarettes, could be seen as sacrilege. But for me the forms in Muttnik have a sincerity and reverence similar to McCahon’s use of words, or Caspar David Friedrich’s depiction of nature as an altar.

    MJ Kjarr: Given that diluted traditions continue to a point, most 4 th or 5th generation Kiwi European’s and postcolonial Maori however are now somewhat heterogeneous to their ancestry. In the old (hierarchical) societies this would probably be apostactic, as witnessed whenever there is a fresh uproar over the (mis)use of traditions. The employment of Balinese concepts in your work seems to embrace a similarly ambiguous visual relationship, through focusing more on traditional beliefs than a specific physical/material aesthetic. Among possible analogies a philosophical description of your practice, from your position of dual nationality etc, could be Derrida’s ‘Differance’ (very simply put, like viewing two patterns simultaneously). With your non-portentious differance in mind and coming from a distanced upbringing as a New Zealander, I’m interested in responses you may have encountered from Balinese communities?

    Sriwhana Spong: In my final year at art school I tried collaborating with my father who lives in Bali. I wanted to get text woven in the traditional ikat style. We have never had the chance to really get to know each other, so it was a very interesting exercise in miscommunication. My Father could not grasp the concept of making art simply to be displayed, and kept trying to turn the work into a form of production which would validate an importing and exporting business relationship. The idea that these were to be put in a gallery was new territory for him, as much as accessing my Balinese heritage was new territory for me. Nothing came of the project, we both stood at the threshold of our own borders, and even though I had a nice ‘bi-cultural’ thread going through the work the reality is that in this instant there was no middle ground.

  • Top Tens




    Twenty one invited artists and writers personal top ten lists.

    Curated by Matt Blomeley/MJ Kjarr

    ISBN: 0473103672
    available as 32 page pdf

  • Interview: Joel Kefali

    ‘It is more valuable perhaps to pose questions than to refuse to question or to believe oneself capable of resolving everything.’
    – Jean-Luc Godard

    Joel Kefali’s visual practice embodies an awareness of our modern processes for searching electronic circuits (nerves) of information in which the scrambled rhetoric resulting poses it’s own solution, namely that a decision to draw your own conclusion is fated by collective|individual inexperience; inasmuch as the choice to represent confident solutions from a Western viewpoint is perhaps doomed to inadequacy or even nihilism in non-Western eyes. Kefali selects imagery from a variety of sources, not least the freely available endless array of stock news footage, cultural and personal imagery on the internet. Kefali is engaged in the discourse of representational painting in a way that freely engages an evolving personal study of cultural theory.

    MJ Kjarr: You mentioned earlier to me that the notion of obsolesence is an interest to you. I find this interesting in that painting is one of these older and perhaps obsolete technologies, yet it goes on successfully. I know that as well as painting, you are also involved with emerging technologies like digital animation. Bruce Mau’s Incomplete Manifesto for Growth 2 provided a practical insight for me into the power of obsolete technologies; ‘. . .Try using old-tech equipment made obsolete by an economic cycle but still rich with potential.’ If there is a similar consideration in your work how does this manifest itself through the tradition of representational painting and similarly of animation?

    Joel Kefali: To some extent I don’t see painting as oboslete. I see it as having a history that is so long and deep that it can almost not be shaken by other mediums but instead strengthened. You see this now with artists like Alys adopting animation and Monique Preto accomodating new technology into the long history of painting. I see painting like a piano, its sound can never be perfectly replicated synthetically or digitally, so it will always remain while the “latest” keyboard will one day be outmoded. I think these technologies, such as an analog synthesiser, something that has been rendered by computers and digital technology can be seen for their own merits and I almost think they are better when they are treated this way instead of as the latest thing. I try to do the same with my animation work, I try to avoid slickness and 3d animation, and instead look at the animation styles which were big 10 years ago and then push that in a direction that the slick 3d work can’t go in. This idea of obsolete is linked to the concept that we as a race are getting better, constantly evolving for the better leaving the last adaptation behind us. I personally think the world is slowly winding down, entropy. This idea of obsolescence was not heavily considered in this body of work, and I don’t see them as having a cohesive final answer. I like the quote “to pose questions…” This is something I do a lot. As a child I always wanted to know why. I read encyclopedias and was always interested in finding out how things work. I think this inquisitiveness can be seen in this body of work.

    MKJ: More so than many Western locales, we have a modern art history which has developed based to a large extent on photographic reproductions. Your paintings ‘Pedro The Lion (live)’ and ‘Movie Explosion’ for me exemplify how New Zealand has changed little overall in global relativism etc. since the likes of McCahon discovered Cubism via magazines. The same effect is today experienced by the passionate music fan who has to live with photo’s and DVDs. Is this duality in your work, which reads somewhere between homage and observation, related to a particular endemic view or philosophical idea of New Zealanders, relative to global culture?

    JK: I think it is obvious that we rely heavily on reproduction and means of communication to experience art in New Zealand. Julian Daspher addressed this idea very well, with his recordings of gallery noise and exhibiting a replica of “blue poles”. I think we are becoming less behind the times though. With the internet being so prolific we can see what artists have been doing this year, instead of waiting for a catalogue to come out and hopefully make it to New Zealand ten years later. What interests me though is the patches of information missing when we experience art or anything this way. Scales of paintings all become relative on the screen and flattened out. By seeing paintings in catalogues and computer screens our minds still make up parts of the painting and we think about it more romantically because its in a virtual space not a physical one. I’m so used to seeing works in print or on screens that when I see the work in real life I’ve often been disappointed. The mystery I had about the work is gone, or what I imagined it would look like has been shattered by reality. “Pedrothelion(live)” shows the lie in the paintings. The fact that it is live means I would had to have travelled to be there and taken a photo to then paint or otherwise I am painting a virtual experience. Movie explosion in context with some of the other explosion works I think shows the loss of truth in media. On the web, information is homogenized and not given any more [hierachical] importance, so lies and opinions flourish. We can’t tell what is actually true unless we can say we directly experienced it, but even then the person we would tell might not believe us. Infomania sets in.

    Catalogue text

  • rm103 July 2005







    Auckland, July 14-24, 2005

  • Interview: Paul Pachter

    Paul Pachter and M.J. Kjarr meet and talk about Paul’s most recent work. Recorded October 4th 2004.

    M.J. Kjarr: There is a well documented history of artists exploring the sea, the land, and the sky. But, as you are a keen sailor yourself, your investigation seems very personal. I was wondering initially if this represented a survey of a particular part of the coastline which you related to?

    Paul Pachter: Well, initially I set out to document the Waitemata. I was driving around the South Island last summer with Karen and my kids, and we were trying to sum up a keyword which suggests our respective practices. We both suggested that it was the landscape. You said something which relates to this in one of my critiques when you suggested; why don’t I just go out and paint the landscape. I was going to build these observation platforms and go into twenty four hour rituals of recording the landscape and defining my motivation, which was basically to connect. But I realized that I already knew the connection, because of my love for the sea. You know, sitting there for hours watching the coast glide past and observing the grays and the blues. I can do that forever and I know it. Also, I am inspired by the memories that attach to the land and the stories of the people who have lived and traveled to get to this place.

    MJK: Your recent painting has become increasingly focused on experiences from the marine viewpoint of the New Zealand landscape, in particular the sky. Is this related to an egalitarian, outsiders view of land and ownership?

    Paul: Yes, and also I suppose that is where the sky comes in. Because the sky is so difficult to cultivate. We do pollute it, and we buy it; you know the sky is actually for sale with television, radio and mobile technology etc. But it is a lot less obvious and therefore it is harder to grasp. With regard to the ocean, it is so treacherous, we can only skim over it. The moment you go into it, it seems endless. But once you go under it you are gone.

    MJK: In a recent discussion, Jeremy Blake recapitulated that the purpose of abstraction is the demonstration of philosophical nuance. In particular I would relate a similar nuanced approach to your recent developments in this series. Oehlens has also talked about retaining content in a similar vein, being an explorative way of working?

    Paul: Well, when I paint that content, the sky, I never really paint ‘the sky.’ It’s all the same stuff really, whether it’s the sky or the water or the land. I’m painting the form or the feeling of the form. I could spend hours watching clouds shifting and draping each other. So I am actually working from memory although I use various references that I have, such as photographs; but when I am out there I can see the weather coming, I can see what’s in front of me and also what’s falling away. It’s not literal to me, rather, it’s about time, experience and memory.

    MJK: This is kind of what made me think of Jeremy Blake or Oehlens for instance, in that there is a nuance there that you are trying to capture. I wanted to relate your working process conceptually to seemingly different artistic models in order to draw a parallel viewpoint. The idea of nuance was evident to me in the earlier works in this series which have a more notational, recording quality. For instance you may happen to be working from, and marking out certain geographical viewpoints such as a place on the Auckland Harbour, but also as something which could be anywhere.

    Paul: Yes, it is universal and it could be anywhere, but it (nuance) is also about loss. I mean that it is an abundance of information and when you interpret it as an abstraction, it is about loss. And that is also what the conceptual element of the work is about; about cultivating wilderness. This then becomes what we know as our landscape. The moment is actually long gone, but you still essentially know the feel of it. That’s why we all go to the bush or for long walks. It’s what reminds us daily of what connects us.

    MJK: I recently read something that Paul Strahern mentioned about the limitations of our intellect in comprehending something outside our frame of reference. This strikes me as an ideal approach for painting, ie. an exploration that can be notated, but never grasped?

    Paul: Are you meaning metaphor? I was reading a book called ‘Uses and Abuses of English,’ which had a section on metaphor. Metaphor’s are there, for example, for you or I to talk about or to explain things that would otherwise take page after page to describe in words. For me paintings are likewise about things that we know but we can’t talk about.

    Paul Pachter interviewed in conjunction with Pachter’s show with photographer Karen Crisp at Artstation, Ponsonby, Auckland, October 2004.

  • Review: Tim Thatcher and Judy Grace

    Tim Thatcher and Judy Grace at Snowhite

    The proposition offered in the Snowhite show of Unitec 2004 Bachelor of Design Painting Graduates Tim Thatcher and Judy Grace suggested that an encompassing, sympathetic vision is necessary for understanding contemporary painting. The positioning of these formally differing artists within the same gallery was accompanied by the transcript of a discussion between the two, regarding their respective formal and subjective interests and influences. The dichotomy inherent was underscored by the unofficial title of the show; ‘Uncertainty comes between two points.’

    Thatcher’s fantastical landscapes are analogous to the modern form of fragmentary, poetic fiction. In Thatcher’s work’s we witness an evolving (or devolving) cast of miscreants, troopers, animals, innocents and savages in colonial landscapes seemingly put through a cultural mulcher of events, technologies, theories and suppositions. At first glance it could be tempting to draw comparisons between Thatcher with the work of Dargher or Thek and more recently Tony De Latour, Brad Kalhamer and Jockum Nordstrom. The most appropriate method to understand Thatcher’s work is not to consider this kind of painting solely as a historical genre however but rather instead as endemic and besides, ruptured.

    Thatcher’s paintings with their narrative content spanning wide terrain, together with his coalition with Grace in this show, were suggestive that Ortega’s Modernism1 remains apropos of contemporary painting, principally due to the concern with idea as subject. Ortega’s 1925 proposition for ‘The Dehumanization of Art’ for instance was concerned primarily with the realization of ideas as a separation from their representative appearance. A simple proposition albeit a deceptively wide ranging, multileveled theory and in this case primary to Thatcher and Grace’s exhibition concept.

    Judy Grace’s abstract works offered a counterpoint to Thatcher’s narrative landscapes, bearing similarities to the classic abstractions of the Greenbergian abstract formalists of the 50’s and 60’s. Grace’s pairing with Thatcher (whether intentionally or not) aggressively asserted a contrary position to the formalist pedagogy which would have typified, even until recent times, an assessment of Grace’s style of painting. As such, Grace’s explorations in colour harmony and composition were positioned not as naive formalist zeitgeist, but more like a conscious contemporary realization of Husserlian Phenomenology and not least of all, the pleasure of hands-on experimentation.

    As a conceptual proposition presenting a paradox or dichotomy and also as a show composed of two individual artists, ‘Uncertainty comes between two points’ generously offered an opportunity for the viewer to make connections via their own interpretive reading, based on an indexical juxtaposition of common knowledge related (for instance) to both formalist abstraction and narrative painting. This is similar to a demand for interpretation raised by Charles Harrison in a 2001 essay entitled ‘Conceptual Art and It’s Criticism.’ Harrison notes; ‘I suggest that the demand for readings that seek to make the work intelligible is still instinct in those examples of Conceptual Art that have remained interesting. That demand should not now be replaced or forgotten in the name of an assumed authenticity. . . The suppressed beholders have to exert themselves.’ It is easily foreseeable that a didactic approach to understanding modern art practices should find resistance among artists who justifiably resist most categorization. But at some point, a discursive thread must surely be offered to the viewer, as Harrison notes. Their generous proposition therefore made the show a success for both artists, conceptually and as a forum to exhibit the freedom and potential of paint media.

    M.J. Kjarr

  • Maxikunst Group Show 2004


    James Wallace Arts Trust Gallery, October 2004