Something happened when I stepped into Gallery 1855 on Sunday 10 November 2024 . ..

something magical, something natural, something human …

The finding of friendly faces … those looks of recognition with folk you know you know, but don’t recall exactly who or how … or one of you doesn’t … or you’ve forgotten their name .. or they yours … and it’s a delight to see and feel the pennies drop .. to say hello first, with eyes or mouth .. and work out the hows and whos … to fill in the gaps .. connect the dots . later .. together.

…

It’s opening day and I’ve arrived a little after starting. The speeches are getting close enough that people are flowing into one room. I haven’t seen the art yet, just the humans.

I share words with old and new friends … the friends you’ve met once or twice, those who aren’t yet your friend, and yet they maybe are, or they certainly feel like they could be, at least in this moment.

I’m wondering which end of the room we’ll be facing. I talk about sitting on the floor. The human/friend I’m talking to tells me they can not sit on the floor. I leave in the unspoken that perhaps I am wishing to sit because I feel I can not stand .. or at least my body is more comfortable not standing. I inwardly enjoy the contrast, the contradiction.

We are a gathering of humans, snugging into a room, navigating body and space, and what we need in and from those environments.

“The ladies” (who turn out to be Jane and Barbara) “are at that end.” This informs someone near me that we will be facing that direction – I appreciate them speaking this out loud, near enough for my ears.

We ready ourselves. Some stand, some sit (mostly on chairs).

Jane speaks.

Barbara speaks.

I am moved … already.

Jane shares the origin story of the group that has created this collection of works. Her impetus to share space, create together, has built a collective slowly and from scratch, that now know each other deeply. A group that art and share and support in a way that is visceral within this room … I can feel their bond, respect resonating .. the holding of each other .. the acknowledging of each other … the celebrating .. each artist by name .. and where they are in this space .. including those not physically present in the room with us … everyone .. every one .

Sarah Bos
Belinda Broughton
Sue Butler
Anne Griffiths
Ervin Janek
Dana Lavenant
Mercedes Mangnall
Jane Mandt
Barbara Millward

Barbara tells us about the exhibition. How it was born from a line of poetry, or under it, in concert with it … her words are better than mine … perhaps the poetry was the exhibition’s north star:

“To see the world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower.
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour.”

William Blake

I jot some things down on paper as I listen, hoping that it doesn’t look like I am not listening, distracted … because the very opposite is true. I am not writing Barbara’s words, but the words that her words are stirring up in me, the thoughts I need to pen down in ink.

I write the word ‘trauma’ and my ears couple that with ‘renewal’ … trauma and renewal. ‘Poetry & nature’ I write.

I draw a candle with the word ‘hope’ in the middle – a poem of my own ‘relates to their poetic prompt’, I scribble. It’s an old poem I’ve maybe under-rated, think I might like to read again. ‘the universe in a grain of sand’ and all that perceptual jazz. Near to the candle, I jot down ‘blog post?’ The connection/s have the cogs turning, an early seed is sown.

William Blake is a name familiar to my ears … a poet’s words were quoted at the start of a research paper I came across when putting together my last exhibition … interesting … how old words keep popping up, that they inspire/set the scene or intention for art and understandings.

I wonder about the possibility of reading a copy of this speech … it hasn’t even finished and I would love to experience it again … I think maybe if I ask Barbara nicely she might be so kind as to share it with me.

‘When you initially view these artworks’ Barbara says, ‘you may well ask several questions:
1) how do they relate to William Blake’s quote?
2) they are so diverse – how do they relate to each other?
3) where is the meaning in what appears to be just a “pretty picture”?’

After a quick munch on some fruit, I start moving into the exhibition, greeting the works in order … which is a very orderly approach for me, but it feels right.

I see stitchings .. words and moss. I read them. Eyes absorb each thread, each whole piece. I see a line of paintings (by Sarah Bos), soft as a brushstroke, across a wall. Feel the difference in the way each artist’s works respond and call. Find myself in front of a painting, wondering after its name.

Someone next to me is with catalogue.

I ask where they got it from … thinking to drift off and collect my own, come right back … instead it’s better .. she shares hers with me, we look up number 11 … I smile … she then extends the consideration of catching me up – sharing all the names of the people who made the pieces up til this point, points out where in the space those pieces are … and shares stories enough that I know she knows many of these artists … ‘Are you one of the artists in the group?’ I ask.

She isn’t, explains her connection, talks about art and a bit of training … I mention something about not necessarily needing training to be, or be considered, an artist (to be worthy/enough/artist enough). I ponder briefly on this large topic that I have deep and complex feelings about. I share some small words on the matter. I hope they leave her feeling at least a little encouraged, accepted, validated or seen. We have a lovely chat until another friend spots her and I leave them to it … off to collect my own catalogue .. to catch up with each piece, its title and artist statement from the start.

Soon I am staring at a wall of works with a man who appears to have been standing here for some time. I want to look closer but he looks settled and I would have to squeezy-in on the side, potentially disturb his audiencing. I allow him his space, deliberately deciding to stand back .. not to rush him, or myself.

I also like it very much when Mary appears to the left of me. I know her face but have forgotten her name, can’t place her for a moment .. we connect the dots back to Fabrik and stitching signatures and the sharing of a lanyard. Tucked in this corner, Mary and I talk until another interaction sweeps in.

I move on with the natural flow of things.

..

It’s at this point I don’t know where to head … straight? down? which way around?

I peep down .. ooo .. it looks good in there!

I make a mental note to check the catalogue numbers for direction. Something .. perhaps taking a little time-out in the kitchen and/or a wonky sense of wayfinding .. lands me here, peeking round a corner …

“Hello”, I say as I approach, “you look like you’ve settled in.”
They move across slightly to make room for one more. We lean back together and look.

I soak the artworks in. They soak the artworks in. We soak the artworks in.

… and chat about how we’re going around this part of the exhibition backwards, about what we’re looking at, what we like about it … “I like how you look at work.” I share … “yeah, you too.” .. “proper!” I say .. “yeah, proper” … we share smiles.

My new friends Margaret and Noel are discussing “Which one do we both like together?” There’s the individual choices, and the together choice. Their process strikes a chord, makes me think differently. I enjoy their enjoyment … their thought-full and unrushed process.

I also enjoy how individual pieces are lettered: a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h…
I am struck, and after some quick yet thoughtful processing, scoot off to see if I can secure a resonating piece of art – Ervin’s j

As happenstance has it, I happen upon Ervin & Belinda on their way out …

… and I get to share this moment with Ervin: … “somebody bought it!” .. “me, I did” .. “oh, thank you very much!” .. ” “it’s so beautiful .. it relates to a storyline playing out .. it’s just perfect .. I love it” .. “you bought it” .. “I’m so honoured to have it .. I got so excited I had to run and grab it” .. “thank you for that .. good fun” .. “good fun!”

I tell Belinda that I haven’t seen her work yet, am travelling around the wrong way … her pieces start at the other corner and she kindly directs me to go the right way round. I take her advice and am happy to have done so. Starting at the start makes much sense on this occasion.

Looking at the first wall of her haiga, ‘a mixture of an image and haiku or tanka’, I hear someone mention the ordering of the pieces … the movement, the flow … I consult the letters on the wall – ah! … I follow their lead

… visceral reactions begin in my body .. my same-time-different-place memories of these moments surface, and I start making small notes, words and symbols to record what bubbles up:

^ click through above

images: my jottings in the catalogue under titles of Belinda Broughton’s work

. .. … ‘phwar!’
.. ‘I remember the sensation & I wasn’t even there!’
.. ‘this is all so visceral! my cells vibrating!!
.. ‘the sad sacred laugh of life and renewal in the cinders of dreams, the dreams of cinders’
.. ‘Gahhh!’ … .. .

Stories start rolling out of the mouths around me .. by this stage I’m on the floor again, in a fascinated flurry of pen and paper.

Margaret tells me where they were when the Black Summer bushfires sparked off. Noel was in hospital that day, and when Margaret had finished grabbing and doing all that was needed, she came in to land there, exhausted. Fitting in a way, I thought, musing on the theme of care and recovery.

“Anyway” says Margaret, “that’s life.”

..

A woman takes their place and tells me a story that my too-slow note-taking has recorded as:

” . .. lost rainwater tank, big shed @ back, but saved his ___ & his house’ … ‘drove through … I’d always worried about the stand of stringybarks behind my place … the big bushfires that came over Mt Lofty … years ago … burnt down … & up our back paddock .. .”

” . .. lick of fire .. coming up through stringybarks .. the wind change .. the collaborative burn-off saved .. that was when Bonython castle got burnt out .. we had an old coach house .. now turned into apartments … 100 yr old oak trees .. someone cut down … we had a circle driveway .. no gum trees only an oak tree because they give off vapour – of air, of moisture … so if you’re in the Adelaide Hills grow oak trees .. “

Her words trail behind her as she sweeps out of the space, my pen trying to catch what I can. I interrupt with “lovely to chat” and quickly ask “do you mind if I quote you, write your story? .. I’m writing a blog.” .. “Nope. My name’s Mignon” .. “I was about to ask,” I say, smiling and writing it down.

I am alone now … but not ..

They come in close and this time I shuffle over to make room for them.

They’re looking at a particular piece, have perhaps decided on the ‘together one’ … “which one? .. oh, you’re looking at that one – what letter?” I ask, “f again .. oo it’s good isn’t it … are you thinking of buying it?” … “mmm” Margaret muses … “mmMMmm” I sing song … *laughter* “oh alright, come on … I’ll be back to put a red dot on it” …

… we would have liked to have the j too” … “ohhh” … “that’s alright” … “the elusive j” … “the elusive j”

we converse about Ervin’s j ..
“Whether the person is visiting the bird or the bird is visiting the person, that is the question,” offers Margaret.
I muse on this very good question.

“nice to look at art with you”, I offer as they leave.
… “thank you very much, that was all very fun” … “yes!”

After they are gone, the penny drops and I’m left sat in the realisation that it was I who bought the j they wanted!

It could be said, perhaps, that j is the together choice of the three of us.

..

Someone in their storytelling has left me with a striking vision … watching from a distance “the black smoke moving across the sky” all thick and occasionally these vertical plumes “of white smoke pop up and they were people’s houses’ going up.”

I’m not sure if this is from Margaret & Noel’s story, or from Mignon’s …

… or all of ours .. in a way … in the way the smoke affected 80% of us … in the way NASA saw it tour the globe … in the way that Black Summer warmed the stratosphere.

…

I don’t make it any further than this wall. I’ve spent so long savouring …

As the venue starts to fold in for the evening, I find myself planted on the floor, papers filled with pen marks, and a mind trying to hold together what has happened here (I didn’t expect to be documenting my visit … and there are snippets of conversation I wish not to lose!)

image: indigo’s denim legs extended out on a terrazzo floor. Cosy-close on her left, her bag drapes a leather handle over her leg. To the right, a pile of handwritten papers and resting under them, a four-colour pen.

‘I wonder shall I stop here
where I have stopped
stay-full
many words un.captured
by the pen, the screen,
the sound of it all!

I want them to be kept, to be heard, to be felt …

(how nice does felt feel!?)

I think I will
I think I will (need?) to pause
… .. . & return’

For now, I am left pondering:
how many stories have fed into the creation of these works … and how many stories might they surface from within us?

…

This is a mere snapshot of the artists and works in this emotive exhibition. Not a complete record … more a taster of what I experienced on the day.

I encourage you (and myself) to (re)visit the gallery and take the whole lot in … take the time.

And if you’re free this Saturday …

Meet the artists:

Sat 23 November
12-4pm

Free. No bookings required. All welcome.

Artists will be on hand in the studio with examples of their artworks in progress to give you a behind the scenes art making experience. This is a perfect opportunity to experience the artist at work and to chat about the production processes underpinning the artworks on display in the gallery.

Exhibition and Venue info:

HUMAN : NATURE
Wed 13 Nov to Sat 21 December
Gallery 1855
2 Haines Road, Tea Tree Gully
… visiting hours are Wed to Sat, noon til 5pm

…

‘responding to ‘HUMAN : NATURE’ is a creative documentation, created out of impulse, by indigo eli … if you’d like to commission indi to creatively document something for you (in or outside of the arts) you can click here for more info.

If wishing to support indigo’s artistic practice or the creation of her work, you can fuel her up with virtual coffee here.

Many thanks to all the artists, the gallery staff, everyone I encountered, especially those who shared stories or otherwise collaborated in making moments magnificent.

Thanks for sharing in HUMAN : NATURE!

..

video: indigo leaving the exhibition .. savouring one last look .. including at artwork number one: ‘a pocketful’, a mixed-media textile work by Sue Butler.

(the video gets a bit liney when looking at Sue’s work … oh no, apologies!)

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21 Nov This entry was published on 21/11/2024 at 9:44 pm. It’s filed under creative documentation and tagged Art, artist, creative documentation, exhibition, exhibitions, gallery 1855, Human Nature, painting, response, south australia, storytelling. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.