Cy Twombly (American, 1928-2011) Cold Stream 1966 White wax pencil on canvas
This painting reminds me of the drawings of Rudolf Steiner (see the exhibition Joseph Beuys & Rudolf Steiner: Imagination, Inspiration, Intuition at The National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne earlier this year) but here the performance of marking is pushed beyond the bounds of the spiritual by the ferocious attack of the artist – repeating the form but transgressing the boundaries of that form, disintegrating the ritual into the physical release of energy through the hand.
One can almost see the maelstrom of the splitting of the atom in Twombly’s repeating performance threatening to destroy himself and the world around him.
Exhibition dates:Â 29th October – 6th December, 2008
Louise Rippert (Australian) Recording (detail) 2008 Collage; thread, aluminium and silver gilt and pencil on khadi paper 38 x 37cm Collection of Deakin University
Deakin University Art Gallery present an exhibition by this Melbourne artist of new work.
“Favouring the use of archival, translucent, brittle and fine materials in her labour intensive and near devotional ‘manuscripts’ of stitching, pattern and perforation, Rippert creates mixed media works of the utmost delicacy … This is the first solo exhibition of Rippert’s work in a public institution and will present her past and recent work.”
Rippert’s work is extraordinary. Taking paper of every sort Rippert inscribes the surface: stitches, weaves, colours and indents the paper, making annotations that develop personal narrative. Delicate and insightful her work celebrates what it is to be human – to be lovers, to be a daughter, to dance, to record. Rippert uses repetition of form in grids and circles to achieve her archetypal works, touching the deepest patterns of our lives.
Dr Marcus Bunyan
Louise Rippert (Australian) Cochin Mandala 2005 Collage; glassine, pencil, thread and gouache on paper Private collection
For many artists the process of art making has a mysterious fascination that continues to draw them back to experimenting, searching and the experience of creating. At the very least, it is reasonable to suggest that art making in this respect is supramundane; an experience particular to itself, simultaneously autonomous but contingent on an “other”, challenging but ostensibly satisfying, baffling and revelatory as – in this sense – creating art involves the artist’s responses, reflections and what is sometimes referred to as an inner dialogue with the work.
The medium (in that very specific conjuring sense of the word) and the interaction with it then becomes a vehicle in which this dialogue has an opportunity to “arise”, or be “heard”. It may be in these cases that the exercising of inner consciousness marks an escape or a period of sanctuary from the regular rigours of life, or that it denotes the labour of a different kind, of higher purpose, intellectual inquiry or even some manner of transcendence.
The term meditative is often ascribed to this transformation of consciousness and the introspective process of art creation. So is it meditation? Certainly many artistic traditions have involved high levels of training and discipline. Certainly many forms of meditation have involved an “other” to provide musing, focus or distraction for the mind. Both have shared common traits of concentration, labour, devotion, repetition, patience and practice. In the artwork of Louise Rippert, certainly the preconditions for such a meditation are identifiable.
The inherent irony with formal artwork is that short of sitting over the artist’s shoulder the audience experiences the result of process, rather than the process itself. However, the beauty (in more sense than one) of Louise Rippert’s work is that in many cases she leaves paths that can be followed or re-imagined, whether it is in the delicacy of her stitching and folding or the sequential approach to numbering that characterises many of her works. We can sense the endeavour. We can see the labour. We can begin in the middle of a spiral or circle and follow the numbers to their logical conclusion. Our mind in many respects can literally “join the dots” and so make the abstractive leap back and forth in time to appreciate this process of becoming.
The extra dimension to the work exhibited in LOUISE RIPPERT: TRACE is that the result also speaks not just of the process, but the intent. There is equilibrium, harmony and quiet in and across these works, which compels revisiting that very painstaking process. While having exhibited artwork annually since 1994, Rippert’s modus operandi has meant limited opportunities to show substantive bodies of work. She has been represented periodically in the National Works on Paper Prize at the Mornington Peninsula Regional Gallery and in 2005 she was the co-winner of the Blake Prize for Religious Art.
Deakin University Art Gallery is therefore very proud to present LOUISE RIPPERT: TRACE, the first solo exhibition of Louise Rippert’s creations in a public gallery and would like to thank the artist for collaborating in this project. Thanks are also extended to the following people for their contributions to this project; Euan Heng, artist, for his opening remarks to launch this landmark event, Diane Soumilas, Gallery Co-ordinator, Glen Eira City Council Gallery for her insightful catalogue essay, to the private collectors who have loaned works and Jasmin Tulk for designing the catalogue to mark and accompany this important exhibition.
Victor Griss Exhibition Curator
Originally published in Louise Rippert:Trace, Deakin University 2008
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Louise Rippert (Australian) Trace 2008 Collage; pigment baking paper, tracing paper, pencil, thread and adhesive contact on drafting film 94 x 94cm Collection on the artist
Deakin University Art Gallery 221, Burwood Highway Burwood 3125
Artist Tim Fleming on the ABC’s Sunday Arts program talks about his art practice, his Flatland work in plywood and laminex and how the work has taken on a life of its own. The work takes on a self-reflexive element with his use of mirrored surfaces forcing the viewer/maker to assess where they are going in life. Fleming notes that it is important to take time as an artist to gather the skills and lay the foundation for future work. Working slowly, laying the foundations, gathering the skills.
Personally I like the use of objects that are taken out of context to convey different metaphors for everyday life. As an artist Flemings semiotic language upsets accepted boundaries of how we look and interact with the world, forcing us to question what it is that makes us who we are.
Klippel/Klippel: Opus 2008 exhibition sculpture and installation from the first space
A magical exhibition of the work of the Australian sculptor Robert Klippel (1920-2001) is presented together with a soundscape to accompany the works by his son Andrew Klippel. The exhibition presents two distinct rooms of light and shade and finishes with a singular monumental bronze work No. 709, but it is the two rooms that astound. They contain small assemblages and bronze sculpture made in the 1980s-1990s.
In the first space lit glass cases hover in darkness, containing delicate constructions of found objects, beautifully crafted. Made of plastic and metal, some parts taken from modelling kits, the sculptures morph and weave a delicate narrative, a powerful artistic vision. Mostly totemic in nature they transport the viewer with wonder and delight, the artists vision fully realised: no unnecessary flourishes, no wasted energy on forms that are redundant.
Wandering from the first darkened space we face a curved wall of black with a bright white opening, almost like the mouth of a Nautilus shell. Upon entering we are enveloped in white – walls, floor, stretched acrylic ceiling and stands upon which glass cases sit all being pure white. It is like stepping into the spacecraft from Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey – quite disorientating but transformational. In the cases sit small very dark bronze sculptures contrasting with the white. Again mostly totemic in nature the sculptures have great power and presence. Some portray small cities on top of hills. Others intricate machine and figure like constructions. All of the cases are mounted at different eye levels, unlike the first room.
When looking across the gallery space, the boxes and sculpture within create a diorama, almost a tableaux vivant, where you can move the focus of your gaze from foreground to mid to background, all suspended in white. If you can be in this space alone with the work and wander around soaking in the vision of this artist so much the better. The contrast and parallels between the two rooms is striking – here is an artist at the height of his powers commanding his materials and his vision in two distinct bodies of work: one delicate, found, plastic the other solid, dark and essential, both dealing with the essence of human creativity and being, leaving the viewer with a sensory experience long remembered.
Klippel/Klippel: Opus 2008 exhibition entrance to the second space
Robert Klippel is regarded as Australia’s most important sculptor of the post-war 20th century period. Known for his abstract assemblages created from found objects he is a distinguished figure in the history of Australian art. Andrew Klippel, Robert’s son, is a composer and musician who has achieved international recognition as a solo musician, songwriter and influential music producer.
Klippel/Klippel: Opus 2008 is a unique and compelling sensory experience which presents a group of Robert Klippel’s small-scale sculptures that were produced during the 1980s and 1990s – some of these have never been publicly displayed. It also includes the monumental bronze work No. 709. Andrew has arranged for this work, which Robert was preparing to cast at the time of his death, to be executed for the National Gallery of Victoria and included in the exhibition. And, in an important artistic response, Andrew Klippel has created a soundscape – a meditation on his father’s work.
Klippel/Klippel: Opus 2008 is an extraordinary and immersive exhibition that celebrates the creative process.
“5. In a modern society, images made by cameras are the principal access to realities of which we have no direct experience. And we are expected to receive and to register an unlimited number of images of what we don’t directly experience. The camera defines for us what we allow to be “real” – and it continually pushes forward the boundary of the real. Photographers are particularly admired if they reveal hidden truths about themselves or less than fully reported social conflicts in societies both near and far from where the viewer lives.”
Sontag, Susan. “Photography: A Little Summa,” in Sontag, Susan. At the Same Time: Essays and Speeches. London: Hamish Hamilton, 2007, p. 125.
Edward S Curtis (American, 1868-1952) Nuhlihahla-Qagyuhl Nd
Following my thoughts on the series The First Australians on SBS we have this wonderful coffee table book of photographs: Edward S. Curtis: Visions of the First Americans with images taken from his seminal 20 volume work The North American Indian.
Curtis worked on the project from 1906 to 1927 hauling his large format glass plate camera across the United States much as Eugene Atget did at roughly the same time in Paris, taking photographs of the old city and its hotels, shops, parks and gardens. Atget died in 1927 with his art recognised by few whilst Curtis lived on into the 1950’s, dying in obscurity and poverty after the fame of his ground breaking work had disappeared. Both photographed a vanishing world capturing it for prosperity on fragile glass plates. Both brought to their projects a unique vision and a belief in what they were doing.
Atget’s photographs of people half seen through shop doors and windows, like shadows of the night. Curtis’s photographs of masked Yeibichei dancers wearing elaborate attire. Curtis thought he was photographing the dying races of the American Indians. Atget knew he was photographing the collapsing spaces of old Paris. Both use the space of the photograph to signify their intentions: an understanding of their subject matter, an empathy with a disappearing way of life, a need to record their vision of this world – and an intensity of insight into that condition.
No other photograph has the space and timelessness of an Atget. No other image the presence of the plains that Curtis summoned.
His masked dancers remind me of the last photographs of the great American photographer Diane Arbus in their candour and beauty, posthumously called Untitled. Finally Arbus has found a subject matter that she could return to over and over again. As did Atget and Curtis.
As Doon Arbus has commented,
“These images – created out of the courage to see things as they are, the grace to permit them simply to be, and a deceptive simplicity that permits itself neither fancy nor artifice … The photographs appear to be documents of a world we’ve never seen or imagined before – one with its own rituals and icons, its own games and fashions and codes of conduct – which, for all its strangeness, is at the same time hauntingly familiar and, in the end, no more or less unfathomable than our own.”1
Dr Marcus Bunyan
1/ Arbus, Doon. “Afterword,” in Diane Arbus: Untitled. London: Thames and Hudson, 1995.
“The artist does not turn time into money, the artist turns time into energy, time into intensity, time into vision. The exchange that art offers is an exchange in kind; energy for energy, intensity for intensity, vision for vision… Can we afford to live imaginatively, contemplatively?”
Winterson, Jeanette. Art Objects. London: Vintage, 1996, p 139.
A wonderful, long overdue documentary series on SBS television about the history of ‘Terra Nullius’, the white occupation of lands through the persecutions, massacres and genocide enacted upon the Aboriginal population.
Although some of the ‘academic’ comment lacks balance this can hardly be blamed.
As an Englishman who is now an Australian I feel deep shame over the actions of my predecessors and empathy towards those whose civilisation was uprooted. And so it continues …
In episode 3 the nobleness of the Aboriginal leader Barak broke my heart:
“And may the Lord bless you sir, and give you good knowledge.”
he wrote to his persecutors.
After his son had died After the promises had been broken.
There is a moment in Greek tragedy when the hero realises all he knows is untrue: peripateum.
Barak must have had such a moment and he returned to his people and his cultural roots, in the last years of his life painting his memories: alive, wonderful, moving.
“And on the other end of the spectrum, there is the AFTER LIGHT, a light of the past, which are echoes from past experiences so intense that they sometimes appear in front of us in the form of unexpected shadows. They hide on clear days under the roofs of houses. It is believed to be the same light seen by people we knew many years ago that survives like a message in a bottle, but always in a precarious way and often vanishes into thin air.”
. Helguera, Pablo. “How to Understand the Light on a Landscape,” in Patt, Lise (ed.,). Searching for Sebald: Photography After W. G. Sebald. Los Angeles: The Institute of Cultural Inquiry, 2007, p. 119.
Art Blart _ art and cultural memory archive 
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