1 - 6 July 2024
45 - 65 Peckham Rd, London SE5 8UF
The degree show experience, for me, was a focused exercise in curation and display. I showed 8 works clustered together on two walls sharing a corner. The feedback was mostly in two camps: the closeness of the pieces was interesting and felt like a natural history display or it felt cramped and a bit difficult to focus on a single piece. I appreciate both reactions as they reflect my intention for the space and the grief experience: my practice of pulling out the individual bits of grief for examination but also stepping back to view the more complete experience. One audience approached more analytically and focused on the collection as a whole while the other felt the crush and busy-ness of the space.
Leading up to the show, there was a lot of discussion about my shelves and wall color: should the shelves be painted white or left bare wood and should the wall be painted? I left the shelves bare, as was my intention from the start, to maintain a personal, homey touch: this is my grief and it is alive and with me everyday. The wall remained white, mostly due to time and funds. Wall paint isn’t inexpensive and I felt, justly, very particular about the color. I needed something that didn’t change the feeling of the work, but supported it and also felt in harmony with the colors in the work. In the end, nothing was quite right, but I am interested in taking up the challenge again for future shows.
This conversation of white walls and white shelves has me ruminating on art world expectations. There is a predilection toward isolating art in a white space which, to me, isolates the work from the audience. We invite the audience in but remind them that they are still separate. I don’t mind white walls, necessarily, but I want the space around the work to speak too. I don’t think art can, or should be, isolated or separate from the everyday human experience: art should add to it.
The arrangement of all the individual works posed its own challenge. I made many sketches but, though helpful, I didn’t quite know how everything would look until it was up on the wall. There is an extra dimension to consider when arranging a space with wall based sculptural work. Once all the work was on the wall, it became apparent that the arrangement wasn’t quite working: the chain, What’s Left of You, looked flat and deflated. It would have been nice to hang the chain, but the individual links couldn’t support much weight. The compromise was to keep the shelves for support, but to stagger them at different heights and hang small sections of the chain. The display was much more dynamic as a result.
My most important takeaway from the degree show is a stronger sense of how I wish to display my work. What my work truly needs is the proper light to allow shadows to be cast. Shadows highlight the work adding extra weight to some pieces, the woven rib cage and live edge wood paintings, and a lightness to others, the glassworks showing their transparency. The glass chain would benefit from being fully laid out, because the length matters, or placed on a table or floor that allows for different arrangements of the chain. The ability to change the design of the chain, spiral or mirroring the shapes in the jewelry, opens up a great deal of display possibilities and is reflective of a main theme: memory.
Semillero is a student-led research group where members present and discuss their current interests and discoveries within their art as research practice. As part of the postgraduate show program, our group led a tour for two invited guests, Hannah Olukoga, Assistant Curator at The South London Gallery, and Gareth Bell-Jones, Curator/Director of Flat Time House, followed by research presentations by myself and fellow students Charles Meek and Owen Herbert.
The presentations were to be under 10 minutes, but I was still quite nervous to speak because I had committed to reading some of my poetry. While I had shared poetry in my work and on my website, I had never read any out loud to an audience. My talk was focused on my recent discovery that the way I wrote was evolving alongside the evolution of my artwork: as the poetry became less manipulated the narration in the visual work became less rigid (read further discussion here). I managed to shake the nerves out of my voice by hyper focusing on the words.
The discussion that followed was lovely. I was congratulated for reading my poetry. Someone told me I was brave. It was quite embarrassing and uncomfortable, but it was nice to get those affirmations. Three of us presented, but a great deal of the discussion focused on grief and questions around how to share such painful experiences. This was, in part, due to shared concerns as Hannah revealed she was a death doula. I did feel a bit guilty, like I was stealing attention, but on reflection, grief and honesty are seductive subjects. When a space feels safe, people are eager to share. Those interested in the honesty bit expressed a difficulty in making themselves vulnerable in that way. I was asked how I did it and the answer was murky. I was trying to explain the need to share to people that needed to keep things close. These feelings seem to be the antithesis of each other, but now I understand each side as different types of protective behavior. I didn’t necessarily expect such a rich discussion, but the invited guests showed genuine enthusiasm for the event and there were student attendees, who hadn’t been to a Semillero before, who contributed quite a lot and joined us for later Semilleros. Overall, it was a hearty and confidence building experience.
There is something satisfying about viewing work hung salon style. The volume of work is impressive: a visual feast. However, if you have a taste for something particular, the feast becomes an irritating, dizzying puzzle.
My work, Mourning Jewelry: Snake and Mourning Jewelry: Hand, stands out a bit, as hanging sculptural pieces among, mostly, paintings. Because of, and despite this, I found one piece very quickly and spent a great deal of time looking for the other. I even knew where the, seemingly, missing piece should be hanging as it was neighboring a piece by MA coursemate and sculptor, Owen Herbert. Owen had posted a photo on social media, but even with that clue, it took me a good 5 minutes to track the artwork down. In the end, I found it by the gallery entrance, hung high up the wall. I had glanced toward the ceiling throughout the exhibition, but I realized that was really all I’d done. My focus was at the height of my eyes, then a little above and a little below. So much work in a small space looks impressive for teh gallery, but doesn’t quite do justice for the artists.
Generally, I’m not too put out by the arrangement. This exhibition was a non-judged open call and they communicated that it would be hung salon style. I’m not too keen on how the chain lies for Mourning Jewelry: Snake; I’m not certain why it couldn’t have been hung more cleanly, as Mourning Jewelry: Hand was. It’s likely with the volume of works to be hung, that there were different people installing in each section: different concerns.
Curation of so many varied works seems difficult, and I wouldn’t have been surprised not to catch any hint of arrangement outside of size and shape, but there is some. My work, in both areas of the gallery, is clearly hung with some of the same artists. If there is a thematic arrangement based on the descriptions provided by the artists, I don’t really see it in relation to my work, but Mourning Jewelry: Hand is directly next to a painted hand. I’m not greatly keen on the bright orange color scheme surrounding Mourning Jewelry: Snake: it feels discordant. In the future, if I know work will be hung salon style, I will submit larger work and give more consideration to the possibility of surrounding work detracting from my own. Some of my work needs space and quiet to be heard clearly, and that is not the language of salon style display.