Visual art exhibitions and events with a platform for critical writing
Room 113, Point Hotel, Edinburgh.
13 February 2008
Reviewed by: Jonathan Baxter
I entered the hotel lobby. Was I looking a little lost or was I just that type? “Hello, are you here for the show?”
“Isn't this the show?
“No, its upstairs in room 113.”
And with that, the briefest of conversations, I was ushered out of the lobby, into the lift - does it always hum like this or have they amplified the drone? - and into a crowded room of, well, I must admit, people like me.
But let me take a step back and explain the context. I'd been invited to a show by a new art collective called echo, the first in what promises to be 'a series of events throughout the year, dedicated to diversifying the role of contemporary art in Edinburgh and beyond.' Hence the non-art context, the Point Hotel, and the title of the show, Starting Point.
So what did I encounter when I entered room 113? Well, beyond the other visitors - rather too many to get the feeling that I was entering a hotel room - I noticed the largest intervention, a wall-based video projection, entitled City Break, showing one of the artists, Tonya McMullan, in winter coat and red beret standing in front of the mock-Acropolis on Calton Hill, Edinburgh. Here, Tonya could be heard singing, quite softly, in a high-pitched voice that rose ever higher and higher. There were random 'events' in the background - one man, obviously playing to the camera, leant against a pillar and tried to collapse the Acropolis! - but it was unclear whether this was an intended contingency or a distracting by-product: was the framing of the video meant to suggest a holiday photograph, and thus a 'still' image, the illusion of which was broken by the voice? Or was the voice somehow commenting on the rising pillars and their obvious folly? Whatever the intention the voice was compelling and it accompanied me throughout the show.
Beneath this video was a double bed with clean white sheets, a white pillow and white duvet. People were laughing so I ventured forward - an intrepid explorer of room 113 - and laid down on the bed to the curious pleasure of crunch and give - strangely erotic in fact - of the knäckerbröd (a Swedish oatmeal cracker) that had been placed under the white sheets, and which, for some reason, made me think-feel of dry shit, parched earth and infancy. (Indeed, I can still feel the tactile pleasure!)
Arising, and somewhat changed, I stepped into the bathroom. God knows how they can charge so much money for such cheap bathroom suites, was my first impression. But then, what to make of the blue water in the bathtub, toilet and basin? No doubt the trace of some cleaning product found in the cupboard, I thought. And then the intricate craft of an electricity pylon - about one foot in height - rising out of a crumpled, clean white towel discarded on the bathroom floor. This piece, entitled Out of Disorder and made by Takahiro Iwasaki, was both delicate and jarring. The pylon itself, made from some sort of white polymer thread (I think), was in such marked contrast to the artificial and polluting stench of the blue cleaning fluid that it vividly juxtaposed our technological artistry against its more sinister and destructive environmental side effects.
Out of the bathroom and into the UHT milk cartons: a Tower of Bable-like sculpture stacked precariously on a table - complementing the Acropolis on the other side of the room - and again, to my mind, playing with the themes of what we consider to be 'natural' and 'artificial' and the mythic world that lies between them. Or perhaps just reflecting the potential boredom of spending a weekend in this hotel room, cut off from the thrum of daily life?
To the left of the Tower - which, for the record, was entitled Andrew Doolan's Palace; Doolan being the architect of the Point Hotel - was another video piece. This piece, viewed on the customary hotel room TV screen, showed the artist, Paulina Sandberg, asleep, and apparently dreaming, in a wardrobe, hugging a white pillow. To Paulina's right were various items - an apple and a small suitcase, for example - placed upon the wardrobe shelves. The video was grainy, thus amplifying the dream-like quality of the piece, and with very little variation: a simple slow zoom-in that evoked duration; a deep sleep. On the other side of the room (although I actually encountered this piece, entitled Stow-away, before I noticed the video) was a wardrobe which, when I opened it, contained a photocopy cut-out of Paulina hugging her pillow, this time with the apple and repositioned suitcase accompanied by other clothing artefacts. Again, this piece had mythic connotations: a dream of archetypal images that the viewer was left to interpret. For me this hooked back to the Knäckerbröd Bed piece, thus amplifying themes of childhood and sexuality.
The final intervention involved a semi-orderly cue of Starting Point participant-observers waiting to answer the telephone. When I finally got to the receiver I was greeted by a female voice - that of Jennifer Williams - and, after a failed attempt at conversation - I should have known, the piece was called Listener - I was made privy to a poem about ... well, something I can't translate into prose; but the language was rich, the imagery vivid, and the voice melodious. The only weakness, here, was that there wasn't enough give and take, begging the question as to why this was a 'live' performance, rather than a pre-recording. (But perhaps there was some process of poetic selection in response to the opening conversation?)
All in all I enjoyed the show: a form of concrete free association. In retrospect I have been able to re-navigate room 113 and re-experience the work; surely evidence that echo created a well conceived and executed show. My only reservation concerns the large number of people in such a small space, and for only three hours in duration, thus detracting from a serious engagement with the work both in real time and in context. That said, the numbers also indicate that there is an audience for this sort of collaboration in Edinburgh and I can only look forward to further echoes of this echo.
Venue detail:
Room 113, Point Hotel
Edinburgh
myspace.com/echoedinburgh
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