Week 26 – Anne Hardy – June 29-July 5

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Scraping. Crackling. Rainbow sound. Filter. Whoosh and whoop and russsh of air. Brush. Breath. Sea, but not sea. Unsean. Trickle. Cloudburst. Broop, rustle. Rumble, scrapple: track fork. Nkrkrkrkr. Drum bung. Dong. Gung. Budda budda. Begin!

That’s what I hear: a Joycean overture coming from the speakers of Anne Hardy’s installation for Week 26 of Fig-2. She herself has “rrmmmph, huoooghg, op, mmmuuow, ip” which is just as good. Orthography (how we write down the spoken word as text) is an arbitrary, personal art. Joyce himself to great acclaim had Bloom’s cat in Ulysses say not “Meow” but “Mkgnao!”

Anne Hardy Fig-2 26/50 2015You can listen to an excerpt of this soundtrack “rrmmmph, huoooghg, op, mmmuuow, ip” and imagine having it going on at full volume all day long, as the fig-2 team do. Over 45 minutes I found it oddly reassuring, even friendly, but then I like controlled noise. I’m not sure I’d like it nine to five, though to be honest I have exactly that myself: a constant soundtrack of uncontrolled asymmetrical noise, chatter, smoking, sirens, and an alarm that constantly goes off when someone constantly opens the gate constantly all day. Jessie says the Hardy soundtrack isn’t so bad but that you’d then go out and a car could crash behind you and wouldn’t notice to turn around.

Anne Hardy Fig-2 26/50 2015The soundtrack is heavily edited and processed audio from recordings of Anne Hardy installing and creating sculptural work in her studio, leftovers from physical work, just as the space is strewn with physical leftovers of this other work that is absent. Plasterboard shapes being cut, scrunched up tape, big scrapes of smashed up concrete: your brain tries to connect the sounds to the objects, but both aspects resist each other.

Anne Hardy Fig-2 26/50 2015The speaker system by Flare Audio uses waves or something instead of compressing air so it can be much louder than conventional speakers. It is a remarkable technical advance and Flare’s technology to have been taken seriously by sound engineers and audio nutjobs. The sound is vivid and punchy, and I know this is how I experienced the sound and it wasn’t an illusion caused by having been told about the special sound system because in my notes I wrote “Very vividly recorded sounds. Very punchy sound.” (though admittedly my notes on things are mostly a higher form of complete drivel).

The carpet is the glorious “process blue” of pure cyan. A darkish inscrutable blue that makes objects a buoyancy in an alien visual field that invites the eye in and projects the objects back out.

Anne Hardy Fig-2 26/50 2015In such an environment with this vocabulary of sounds you do start to not so much hallucinate but question the origin of the noises. Was that noises off or did it come from the speaker? Irene steps through and kicks the bin, Jessie’s heels scrape, I blow my nose then sniff.  I think that motorbike was outside. You forget what’s inside and what outside, start hearing things, imagining you hear things. The sounds pile up on themselves and create little narratives.

Think of the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth – du-du-du-DUH. Most sound you hear is just du-du-du or DUH. Joining them together, however, you can create pattern. In Anne Hardy’s soundtrack I hear the long swelling sound of water followed by a weird click edited and juxtaposed to punctuate and create a phrase which is essentially musical.

Anne Hardy Fig-2 26/50 2015It’s a terrific use for ‘found sounds’. Years ago I went to a Wire Salon (a Q&A organised by the fiercely mandarin music magazine Wire) about field recordings, and one of the big questions raised was ‘After you’ve recorded all this stuff, what do you do with it?’ We sound recordists have hours and hours of birdsong and crowd noise and trains going out and coming in and beaches. I genuinely have a recording of complete silence (from an anechoic chamber – it sounds really odd).

The economy of Anne Hardy using discarded parts of sculptural processes in exhibiting them and soundtracking them makes her the green champion of fine art practice.  Throughout her work she has also scoured the streets of Hackney for objects that she can introduce into her work.

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She made her name constructing weird spaces of which she would then take a single photo which would be all that remained of it (she wasn’t always a green champion). They’re completely amazing. Her practice later took her into creating these spaces so that not one but several photos would be needed to capture them, and to not to be so rigidly ephemeral but so that people could enter them, adding a third dimension. Her Fig-2 show takes this even further by allowing us into the process of the making of these spaces, and seems very much intended to be viewed as transitional. It will be interesting to see next month in her show FIELD, at Modern Art Oxford, how far along on her trajectory she has gone in moving away from photography and integrating sculptural installation and audio.

anne-hardy-reference-3Opening up spaces and exposing processes, and centring on the process of making, is a functional kind of art. It’s art about art. Which is fine and modern but doesn’t invoke the sublime or the uncanny. The photos have a perfection. They are pure art. They don’t encode or include their own making except that inasmuch as there is no attempt to disguise the artificiality of the scene. This is what gives the photos their hyperreality. They’re so unreal they seem more real than reality.  Jessica Lack says Hardy is “one of a number of contemporary photographers well aware that the documentary look is best recreated by using stage sets.”

2-hardy700The extreme shortness of the depth of field adds to the effect, making the spaces harder to understand and interpret, harder to read. The process of “reading a space” is psychologically charged, and in a sense you project yourself onto it. The ghost in a haunted house is actually just the spectre of your fear. Hardy’s photographic spaces are difficult, and so foreground your own response. It might not be something you are even aware of.  The isle is full of noises. You might just feel a bit weird, a bit edgy, start imagining things. . .

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ADDITIONAL LINKS

Fig-2 interview with Anne Hardy: https://soundcloud.com/fig2/2650-fatos-ustek-interviews-anne-hardy

The world’s largest natural sound archive just went up online – The Macaulay Library uploaded 150,000 recordings documenting the sounds of 9,000 species. It’s fully listenable and fully searchable: http://www.chartattack.com/news/2015/08/06/worlds-largest-natural-sound-archive/

Week 40 – Una Knox – October 5-11

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fig-2_40_50_2When you enter the room the first thing you see is that all of the walls have been drawn into the centre of the space and bound together. The Fig-2 mobile wall structures and book shelves that usually delineate a space within the room have been wrapped up together, and there is nowhere to hide.

fig-2_40_50_4Whether deliberately or intuitively Sylvain Deleu’s photos don’t zoom in on the the central structure but show it surrounded by the exposed space of the studio — balancing the tight compression at the centre with the openness around it. This arrangement has an unsettling effect. Artist Una Knox notes that in drawing things together you illustrate the potential for, or the inevitability of, the opposite: all things will break apart.

unaknoxpvThis is the context of coming to Fig-2: these shows are brought together for seven days and then blown apart. For Week 40 of Fig-2 Una Knox has bound together elements of film, photos and sketches within a specific spatial configuration that introduces specific tensions into how you perceive the work.

“In previous works the question has come up: how does a particular architecture have the potential to dictate a conversation?”

Una_Knox_fig-2_teaser_image_2015Whether it’s an elevator shaft or a small room full of tape and paint like the ICA studio, depth of field (the distance between the nearest and furthest objects you can perceive) has a profound effect on you. In cities we can get wound up and depressed by the closeness of everything, and feel relief and elation at emerging into a wider perspective like a park. Conversely, in the countryside we can feel overwhelmed by the distance of everything and long for our homely corners.

fig-2_40_50_6In Una Knox’s Fig-2 installation the objects are brought into intimate relation with each other through proximity, and looking at them all cramped together feel like we’re clambering through them, unearthing them like old manuscripts in a library.

fig-2_40_50_7The small monitor screens play video archives of the artist’s father David Knox, himself an artist, at work in the 1980s. He’s making ‘surface studies’ in which he introduces cuts to large pieces of paper. This work doesn’t survive except in these grainy flickering video documents.

There is also a notebook hidden away that contains preparatory work from both father and daughter, work you wouldn’t normally see when looking at a final work. It presents us with one dynamic of a relationship we can only imagine, and sketches for works that might or might not exist. If there’s a depth field of meaning we’re coming towards a wall here.

CQkwUroWEAMYwXwExploding the plane is the most colourful part of the exhibition, the three large trichromatic images, semi-abstract photos of Una’s own absent cutouts. You see these from the outside, from the open space of the room, whereas with the other works you have to almost clamber into the central structure. These large photos are made using pre-colour photography processes, with three sequences shot one after another and different tones of grey creating different densities of red, green and blue.

fig-2_40_50_2This paradoxically creates much more vibrant colours out of gray than using colour does. You’ve seen films shot in Technicolor. Their rich saturated image palette comes from using three separate film cameras each with a different filter to capture red, green and blue. It’s nostalgic and also, such complex methods of image creation are akin to the workmanlike methods of artists. So there’s another connection between the processes of Una’s photos and David’s physically cutting into paper.

fig-2_40_50_8It’s about “history and how things taken from the past are modified and reshaped and retain something of what they were and become something else and how two things that are the same can become unique.”

Cutting into paper breaks the two-dimensional plane, which is quite a radical act in artistic terms. It’s violent. Interplay between two and three dimensions is an abiding feature of op art, which creates three-dimensional effects through manipulating and tricking the cognitive processes that read the information of the world: optical illusions. The vase keeps popping into a face.

“I was interested in the way that we look back in history and what we see through these different layers of media, these practices of artists who we can only see through documentation and what happens in that filter, so I wanted to bring those filters to the foreground, in accentuating the quality of this old video but also in the photographs splitting apart the materiality of photography but also of vision and how these things come together, sequences in time collapsing in and becoming dense. So you see that in the structures and also in the materiality asking you to look through the shelves.”

There’s nothing on the internet about David Knox. The show is about someone we as strangers can’t hope to know about. When you click on @UnaKnox in @fig2london’s tweets it says “Account suspended” — the correct handle @unannox has protected tweets. In the absence of the internet, or getting to know Una Knox, all we can know about the relationship between the two is mediated through the work.

This seems to echo a psychological truth that sets up an unresolved ambiguity in the work. Sometimes we can fail to understand something because we are ‘too involved’ as well as too far away: ‘clinical distance’ is another kind of knowledge. It’s a problem of perspective, of depth of field: everything is either too far away, in time or space, or so close up to you that you can’t see it. Art breaks the surface plane so we can try to peer through.

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All quotations from Una Knox are taken from her audio interview with Fig-2 curator Fatoş Üstek.

POSTSCRIPT

The Sipsmith gins at the show opening were apparently a “Trichromaticism mix” but I have a photo in which it’s distinctly referred to as “Smoke & mirrors”. Smoke and mirrors: certainly I’m now beyond confused not only about David Knox, but also Una Knox, and even the drinks.

One artist bio of Una Knox says “She is inspired by instances where an absence defines a presence” which we certainly encounter, or don’t encounter, or do we, through her work. It’s also a central idea in contemporary art practice that I’ve had hours of fun mocking. For once I’ll just leave off the jokes and think about Jazz. Simpsons did it:

PUNTER: Sounds like she’s hitting a baby with a cat.
LISA: You have to listen to the notes she’s not playing.
PUNTER: I can do that at home.