Nau mai, haere mai, welcome to eyeCONTACT, a forum built to encourage art reviews and critical discussion about the visual culture of Aotearoa New Zealand. I'm John Hurrell its editor, a New Zealand writer, artist and curator. While Creative New Zealand and other supporters are generously paying me and other contributors to review exhibitions over the following year, all expressed opinions are entirely our own.
Showing posts with label Boris Dornbusch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boris Dornbusch. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Intriguing tension


















Boris Dornbusch: Phantom Limb Construction Sites
Starkwhite
31 March - 1 May 2010

‘Phantom limbs’ are those invisible legs that amputees feel are still attached to their bodies and which provide sensations of pain or itching. The legs or arms don’t exist yet the neural systems within the brain don’t seem to acknowledge the original limb’s separation and absence. They create illusions which are related to other sensations of music and taste that can be generated through exposed surfaces of the brain being stimulated with electricity or chemicals.

With his ‘construction sites’ Boris Dornbusch appears to be referring to the Duchampian notion of the viewer creating a large part of the artwork themselves; that they actively participate in the conceptual construction of the art. Their mental creativity generates meanings that almost like a sticky substance attach themselves invisibly to the object of their attention.

Dornbusch here has come up with an exceptionally clever and evocative title, yet strangely very little of the actual art fits in with the ambiguity of the Duchampian concept. Instead of being open-ended and welcoming of mixed interpretations, almost all works are tightly thought through, and seem the opposite. They provide definite clues that anticipate the ‘correct’ answers of these riddlelike artworks.

With these two types - decipherable puzzles that tease with ‘crackable’ codes, and works that are vaguer and which generate more ‘poetic’ impressions – there appears to be little overlap. One is viewer-driven whilst the other is artist-based and more controlling of possible readings, with certain correlations that have high priority. Artist and viewer in other words compete over imaginative control of the work’s meaning.

For ten chosen works Dornbusch has a wide array of clues carefully laid out for his well–educated audience. Two pieces are based on art historical references. Clear Moods and Crashpad (right door) allude to Malevich’s famous perpendicular black square and tilted white one - with jokes about Malevich’s paintings being vandalised by the art-going public. In Dornbusch’s versions one is liable to be scratched by opening car doors or Starkwhite’s audience running up the stairs, and the other they walk over coming in the door.

Three others use semantic logic and witty paradox. In In almost every season there can be a singular moment when something unexpected fails to materialise the title contradicts itself, an unopened canvas is shown facing the wall and a Braille text is screened off and made unusable by a sheet of Perspex.

Skalinada is similar. It shows a b/w photocopy of two dark derelict skyscrapers in the Dalmatian city of Split. They look joined but ‘split’ and the paper has tearable tags on its bottom edge with vertical cuts. The tile refers to an internationally famous Croatian pop song and the sheet is attached to the wall with sickly bubblegum.

The third work coded in this way is Fighting An Old Problem. On a white jersey tied around a column, Dornbusch has painted a white jersey with a sweaty armpit and more importantly, short and long sleeves. They allude to the difficulty of putting on the garment while the sleeves are tangled.

Three other works have a logic that is media-based.

Directions for a Visiting Friend shows us a makeshift map of Berlin or Split (the two cities where Dornbusch lives) made by photographing objects on a kitchen table placed in a ‘cartographic’ diagrammatic arrangement. This photograph has been made into a paper photocopy and then folded like a store-bought city street-map. It’s very witty.

Slow Change presents an image on a LCD of three coin impressions fading from the palm of Dornbusch’s hand. The title refers to digital motion on a DVD, the difficulty of retaining cash, and the fading of ink in photocopies.

With 330 ml we see a running tap recorded on a short DVD loop. Because it is in Auckland, the water is paid for by the user, so Dornbusch amusingly has an energy meter fitted to the gallery power point to show the running costs to Starkwhite.

One large ‘blank’ sheet of white PVC features the use of vernacular language - like you would find in a cryptic crossword. The unfinished title The great white is completed by a tiny painted shark you have to look for, under a horizontal slit.

The tenth work involves the phenomenon of ekphrasis where words are used to describe a visual artwork and even replace it. In this case Dornbusch has written out a line from a Sonic Youth song that describes a paintable vista featuring foreground, figures, and trees used as compositional framing devices. He has translated A view through the trees to a couple standing in the snow into Braille and you can touch the embossed aluminium. However you don’t need to because the title tells you roughly what to visualise in the scene. The details of what you mentally see fit in perfectly with Duchamp’s theory, as you yourself provide the descriptive particulars for a sentence that is essentially vague.

Good art doesn’t have to be brainy, and often intellectual artists make work that is infuriatingly smug and convolutingly rarefied –particularly if the display is short on sensual appeal. Such art needs a carrot to draw the audience in, so that the ideas and materials strike an emotional chord that makes the work memorable and not sterile.

With Dornbusch, the fascinating exhibition title sets the scene for how you receive the display. Some items are indisputably one liners but that is not necessarily a bad thing. A good idea that is very simple can linger long in the imagination and provide continual pleasure and engagement.

So while this show at first glance does seem to be too cool for words, it is not really that icy. It will reward a couple of visits as various cross links – often to do with tactility – readily become apparent. Dornbusch’s ideas become much clearer in a solo presentation, far better than in say, previous Starkwhite group exhibitions. Here, with a little patience and a close examination of the printed list of works, patterns become detectable.

Friday, April 17, 2009

A question of Faith


Boris Dornbusch: In all applications: in all departments
Te Tuhi
7 March - 12 April 2009 (This show is over now.)

Boris Dornbusch is one of those artists who seems to regularly think in terms of tropes, especially when he is working with moving image that he is presenting in an installation. The DVD is presented in a sort of austere theatrical setting, a few props that comment on the content of the film. Recent works at Starkwhite and Room 103 confirm this.

For the Te Tuhi show, the DVD was projected over a floating helium balloon hovering in front of a wall. It showed somebody from a seventies American TV show I would term a ‘faith healer’ more than a magician, somebody with allegedly paranormal powers who can push or pull people (or objects) through space with invisible forces radiating from his fingertips.

In one scene he is attempting to lift a ‘patient’ lying on a bed, by running his hands over his sides and above, without touching. Trying to get him to float weightlessly, like the balloon onto which much of the image is projected.

In another scene the standing patient is seemingly pushed and pulled backwards and forwards without physical contact. Though his eyes are shut, the patient seems to be coordinating his leaning with the movements of the ‘doctor’ behind and in front of him.

So what is Dornbusch up to here? Is he commenting of the degree of faith in our lives, our gullibility perhaps? Is he being rude about the artworld that he himself is part of, like you or me? Is he saying don’t believe all you are told or shown, or is he saying the exact opposite, that isn’t this great, it’s gotta be good for you?

The balloon indicates scepticism I think. It establishes the presence of irony. It could also have a metaphysical intent, like perhaps the broken window in Room 103’s installation, alluding (like Magritte) to a world of illusion with a false veneer that is suddenly exposed.

Lots of interpretative layers.


(Image courtesy of Starkwhite and the artist)

Monday, February 9, 2009

Three artists








: Akiko Diegel, Boris Dornbusch, Trenton Garratt
Starkwhite
3 February – 28 February 2009

This exhibition of three young comparatively unknown sculptors at Starkwhite is a good chance to think about the sensibilities detectable in their work. Two of them have won Awards, so they are starting to attract a following. As ‘a trio’ in the large downstairs space they create a nuggetty, resilient display, and have more work upstairs in stock shows.

Akiko Diegel’s work 7 x 10 refers to a grid of stacked up blankets that have been cut and stitched into shopping bags. They almost could be mistaken for folded singlets but they are too rectangular.

Her installation seems to refer to the comforts of the activity of shopping, rather than being about the acquiring of any specific products. It extols the warm soothing pleasures of consumerism, the addictive joys of spending, seven days a week, ten hours a day. It also critiques by suggesting buyers are like babies with bags that serve as security blankets. That shopping is something compulsively bodily and reflexive.

Three works she has upstairs show a similar sort of wit. One is a small jam jar of bulldog and alligator clips made from the paper foil that surrounds Aspirin and Disprin tablets. It suggests our sense of the corporeal and neural is suspended by chemical painkillers which keep us out of touch with our normal bodily processes.

In a nearby fridge Diegel also shows two frozen power-sockets made not of plastic but white chocolate, a circular joke about sustaining molecular stability through electricity. More oblique conceptually, but astounding physically, is a paper coffee cup holder made of thin plaster – a project similar to works by Glen Hayward in its technical virtuosity.

Trenton Garratt’s sculptures are less complicated, mounds of brittle terracotta or white chips that are thin with pointed ends. The work is about the heap as an elemental haystack-like form, and physical taste. The fragile baked sticks look unnervingly like skinny French fries and affect you intestinally. They also look like straw or shredded paper.

Upstairs he has two unusual oil paintings about vertical – not horizontal – layering. They feature scrawled texts. Out of Change has ‘Africa’ and other words written underneath the title, while Out of Nothing is superimposed over ‘Danger’. Garratt seems inspired by Robert Smithson’s famous A Heap of Language drawing with its stratified lines of cursive script.

Boris Dornbusch’s projects seem fixated on transmitting or receiving signals, a trope for the process of Art itself. His main work, Towers 2 The Sky, features video film of a man in an agitated (drugged?) state, frenetically dancing. He is slapping his buttocks and legs to the rhythm of music that we cannot hear. It may only be in his head, or it may be emitting from his nearby house or various parked cars.

He is filmed from a high window from across the street and that creates a sense of voyeurism. The moving image is projected on the gallery wall from a DVD player on a stand and nearby is a microphone stand with no mic, as if a comment on the unseen musical source.

Dornbusch seems intrigued by the distance between separate parts of artworks. On the wall by the landing of the staircase leading upstairs is a yellow disc from a plate-sized ‘smiley face.’ The two eyes and curved mouth have somehow slipped down to the varnished floor. Upstairs the theme of movement is explored with stationary objects once more. A pilgrim’s bundle wrapped in garish synthetic fabric and attached to a pole lies on the floor of one of the galleries.

There are also two sets of hanging keychains on the walls. One has a laser aerial for locking and unlocking cars. The other a whistle. The theme of transmission and reception appears again.

This is a subtle understated show where nothing is obvious. You need time to ruminate and discover the connections. It’s a tough restrained exhibition that is demanding but rewarding.

(Many thanks to these artists and Starkwhite for the above images. The photo of Trenton Garratt's terracotta Our House was taken earlier at City Art Rooms.)

Friday, March 7, 2008

Exhibition with two balls




Boris Dornbusch & Daniel Webby: I always say the contrary to what you say. I always say the same as you.
rm103, Auckland
28 February - 15 March 2008

The title of this show is one of those riddle-like exercises in paradox that searches for meaning in the face of illogical contradiction, like the famous example, a philosopher from Crete who announced ‘all Cretans are liars.’

The two rooms at rm 103 are thematically linked, but not in a manner that is overtly super-tight. Dornbusch's video is hilarious: at the centre of its bottom edge we see a basket-ball hoop, around which are repeated shots at goal, all failures.

Webby’s adjacent room shows a basket-ball on the floor surrounded by broken glass. It has come through the window, and left a large hole in its centre.

Taped to the ball is a mobile phone, which when rung – using a number provided on the wall – tells you ‘this number is not permitted to receive calls.’

Oddly, parts of the blurb on the gallery site seems more appropriate for Gambia Castle than rm103:
Two like things may be considered members of a set, thus the body which emerges is that of the set, with the constituent members lost.

Like the current Tahi Moore show at Gambia Castle, lack of success is a theme here, but encased within a riddling title. The video in particular is quite wonderful. Even funnier than Steve Carr. Well worth a visit.