In-flight (Project: Another Country) by Brisbane-based Filipino couple Alfredo and Isabel Aquilizan is one of the works in APT6 that works effectively for both adult and child.
Visitors can create their own planes from whatever materials are on hand and add to the growing pile that’s both a fun activity and a critique on issues of migration.
And it will continue to grow. What the final results are – a mountain of a mess or simply a grand mountain — when the Triennial ends next April is, well, up in the air at the moment.
But you can’t deny its impact.
Contemporary art-as-big spectacle has its fair share of critics. In Singapore this year, there were at least two group shows (D. Minor and Eniminimimos) that reacted directly to exactly this notion by presenting the beauty and power of small art.
Indeed, some contemporary artworks rely on this initial effect of overwhelming you with its hugeness. You stand in front of this Goliath and are humbled. Alternatively, you cower.
But more often than not, big works aren’t things you can easily dismiss with a “I can also do that.”
There are those, however, that do not offer anything new. After the initial awe, I can now hardly remember anything significant about Chen Qiulin’s installation of a traditional wooden Chinese house.
Except that it’s a masterpiece in terms of logistical planning. Because it just stands there cold and empty, the supposed gravitas is absent – or washed away by the Three Gorges Dam project it criticises.
But that’s not to disparage huge works as a whole. I still like Subodh Gupta’s mushroom cloud sculpture. At his talk on Saturday, the Indian artist also came up with an interesting analogy in defense of his 5m high work (which apparently isn’t the biggest version – there’s a 10m one).
He compares it to watching Hindi movies “(that) are full of drama”, specifically the idea of the cinematic climax in a larger-than-life setting.
“People know (what’s going to happen in the climax) but they want to watch it,” he said.
We want to see the artwork as climax. An atomic mushroom bomb is one, obviously. Compared to that, Chen’s traditional house seems more of a footnote. Or one of those numerous “epilogues” in the final The Lord Of The Rings movie.
Meanwhile,the Aquilizans’s mountain of hand-made planes is a story in progress. A very interesting one at that.
***
Despite the novelty of seeing art coming from North Korea, the question of whether or not these were “contemporary art” was one question that was in the minds of some people.
A mosaic tile work and a bunch of prints greet you at the entrance – all looking pretty much like they were made in China during Mao’s Cultural Revolution in the `60s.
But during a talk last Saturday, Nick Bonner, co-curator of the Mansudae Art Studio sub-section, insisted these are contemporary, primarily because most were created (with mediation from the curators) very recently. As in, this year.
Like Bonner, I was disappointed that politics got in the way of art yet again. Five of the North Koreans who work at the said art studio were slated to come but were denied visas by the Australian government. North Korea isn’t recognized as a trading partner, along with some of the participating countries this year, like Myanmar and Iran.
Nevertheless, Bonner (a Beijing-based Brit filmmaker who regularly organizes travels tour to and is in touch with art studios in DPRK –such a cool graffiti collective sounding acronym isn’t it?) made up for it with his passionate exposition on the works. (I dub thee, the Uli Sigg of North Korea, Nick).
He began by acknowledging the viewer’s set perceptions of what “North Korean art” is – the reason why the curators placed the mosaic piece right at the entrance.
But Bonner moved on to point out the differences – prints of obvious propaganda import share space with those that would probably be regarded as reactionary in Maoist `60s China, e.g.. pure landscapes.
Equally important was the gesture of giving these unknown artists a human face. Bonner peppered his talk with anecdotes that reveal his admiration and respect for the artists.
No, North Korean artists are not in ball and chains. Art making is “a natural process. They’re not forced,” he said, describing their day-to-day schedule at the studios as something akin to that of a full-time, workaholic commercial artist.
He also had some amusing stories, particularly in how he dealt with the artists in the creation of five paintings (i.e. tell them to try something different from their socialist realist-informed practices without saying “try to paint something true or real” because as Bonner said, these propaganda-type representations are their truths).
It may not be contemporary art for most folks, but as Bonner said, “it is contemporary for North Korea”.
Instead of clinging to the idea of “them” catching up us and with the rest of the world, maybe one should approach the show from the position of us getting up to date with what’s happening over there.
***
This is my last post on the APT6, but I’ll try to put up a couple of videos on some of the works soon, but for now, this is the RAT signing off from Brisbane.
God, I miss nasi lemak…
