Art Gallery

I love the art gallery, it's so communicative. Here's a comment about my visit to the art gallery today...

What a day! It's very Springy, which makes me almost hedonistic with joy, and I wore some nice clothes today including a pin collar shirt and a vintage tie tack. On the bus a mixture of Tool, Janes Addiction, The Brian Jonestown Massacre and The Doors added a music track to my drowsing interspersed with gazing out the window at the light and marveling at how separate from my fellow humans I feel.

At lunch time I decided to catch a tram to the Mall and walk to the art gallery. The tram ride itself was as entertaining as the morning bus ride to hunt and gather (work).
It was a nice walk in the sun to the gallery.

After spending time with my normal favorites I found a new (to me) exhibition by Nicholas Folland. It was amazing. So witty. Just really, really good. Art is supposed to agree with an internal comment or remark you make about a thing, I think. You're supposed to agree with what the art is saying to you; it's supposed to resonate. If it doesn't talk to you about something it's not art. Art is always very chatty. Informative, but sometimes in a silent way rather than a chatty way. It can brood at you, scowl, even hit you with fists all bloody; but it always says something and you always know what it's saying and agree.

So anyway, here's some photos...

The exhibition was in a dark space...

The first piece I saw was taken over by the second piece. The second piece was spots of light. The light was thrown out from inside crystal or glass vases, like 1950's vases. Small, LED lights on extendable twisty stems stuck out in a curve from the wall to illuminate the vases.
It was really cool.

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Next I saw what looked like a 1930s mahogany wash stand. The wash stand had a porcelain bowl sort of perched on the side. I'm not sure if the stand and the bowl are original or if the bowl has been added to the furniture; but either way I like it on the side like that. In the porcelain bowl was a white blob with an illuminated chandelier on it. It looked like the chandelier was embedded in a mound of Styrofoam. I could hear a loud humming coming from the cabinet. I saw a small, round, black metal screen on the side of the cabinet; and looking in saw what looked like vintage electronics and a motor. I realised that the cabinet held a refrigerator motor and the Styrofoam was ice. From the cabinet bottom poked a white tube running to a white porcelain chamber pot, obviously for any melted ice.
it was really cool.

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Then I saw a little sailing boat. A very nice vintage looking sailing boat like from the children's book Swallows and Amazons. It was laying a little on its side as sailing boats do and from in it came a mass of light. The light shone through layers of crystal or glass serving dishes; like one would serve little cakes on at an afternoon tea party. The thing that was really nice was that the level of the glass plates was level with the ground. It was like water in the boat.
It was really cool.

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Then when I turned a corner and met the deer or whatever with a lit chandelier draped on its head like a garland I almost laughed out loud. Very witty.
It was really cool.

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Next were two framed 'maps'. One of the Indian ocean and one of the Pacific ocean. Devoid of land masses and latitude and longitude but still cartographic. Again, very witty.
They were really cool.

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Next up was, well, bloody mind blowing really. Sort of like taking LSD and then watching that bit of the original The Wizard of Oz movie where they meet the wizard. Just astonishing. A huge contraption of ladders, wood, screens, small, white plastic desk fans, a keyboard, incandescent light globes, revolving glass bowls, more lights, and probably lots I've forgotten or didn't see stood in a darkened room and displayed the message 'Imagine I'm the imagined' to a sort of choreography of light and sound. This was really cool.

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On the way out some granite boulders plugged in to a power source. I wondered what the power source was for. Then I saw on the floor a message telling me I could touch the art work if I wanted to. Always happy to touch granite I placed my hand on the rock and, again, let out an audible "Oh" as I felt its warmth. Continuing to to touch the rock like it was a woman's breast I felt one boulder was particularly warm; almost hot. Quite amazing; and I kept wondering at the small glints of gold in the rock and how many hands had touched this before mine and had also said "Oh, this is really cool"...

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