Triennial 2024 (1)

I’ve been to the NGV to see this twice, first on the 28th of December 2023 and again on the 18th of March 2024. About an hour both times. There’s a lot to see including some silly stuff that mockers love to highlight; but most is really good. So much so; I’m doing multiple posts of which this is the first. Two more are here and here. I cover only a tiny proportion of the exhibits. There are lots more, including a lot of big video installations, which can’t be adequately captured in a photo. It finishes on the 7th of April 2024 and is really worth a visit. I love that it’s free entry making it very accessible. All the quotes are from notes accompanying each exhibit.

Outside the gallery you see this in the moat to the left. It’s luk bagurrk gunga, 2023, bronze, by Kim Wandin. The title means eel women catch and it represents a traditional woven eel trap. A remarkable achievement in bronze. I liked it much better than the stuck up thumb that dominates the entrance and the Triennial publicity!

Inside you’re advised to start up on the third floor and work your way down. Which is how this blog is organised and which I recommend. Signage throughout is pretty bad and I often had to ask an attendant for directions. Triennial exhibits are mixed in with the gallery’s permanent collection.

At the very top is an intriguing exhibit called Conflict avocados. This contains a number of pieces relating to the avocado industry in Mexico. The centrepiece is a film which is described as providing a lucid account of the social economic and environmental ramifications of global consumption. In particular through the example of the impact of Americans obsession with eating avocados. Forests in the state of Michoacán in Mexico are being decimated at an astonishing rate to be replaced by avocado plantations. Political corruption, murder and vigilante gangs ensue. Some very brave people are fighting back. Both for themselves and for the endangered Monarch butterfly for which this forest is critical. It’s well worth the time to watch it all. This Avocado leather cabinet 2023, avocado skin, walnut; is made of cured avocado skins – amazing! It was commissioned and bought by the NGV.

Next to this room is a rather ordinary exhibit, Designs for a World of Many Worlds: After the Festival by designers Dunne & Raby. I didn’t linger. It contains a group of what are described as imagined artefacts of a fictional festival celebrating a shift in the collective mindset of human beings. This is Memento figure 3 2023, Huon pine.

A pretty amazing bit of carving of Huon pine. Wonderful natural colour. Here’s a close up.

Among the artifacts is this – which I don’t think indicates a shift in human mindsets! Accessory 4: Shoes 2023, felt. A bit of silliness for which the Triennial is famous.

This exhibit is opposite one which drives Triennial critics mad – a collection of Dyson coolers – not in use. I didn’t photograph that but I liked this one nearby which includes another artwork purchased by the gallery. Dual acquisition 2022, Walnut, Cherry wood, resin, glass, charcoal. By an American Derek Fordjour. Very clever and inventive and using amazing materials.

In the next gallery on this floor we found these two vases which I was initially inclined to pass off as pretty things but a bit silly. Why bother to try and replicate ancient relics. Entitled Modern relic IV: All in this together, apart 2020, glass (sandblasted, engraved) by Australian artist Jessica Murtagh. She draws inspiration from ancient Athenian ceramic amphoras known for their depiction of scenes from everyday life. These two depict the human experience caused by Covid-19. Look closely. Here’s a scene from a supermarket which recalls the panic buying of toilet paper.

In this one we’re outside a Centrelink office with a security guard and client, both masked, which evokes the immediate mass unemployment caused by the virus. Very beautiful and very inventive.

I’ve seen paintings by Melbourne artist Prudence Flint in Archibald Prize exhibitions – she’s been a finalist seven times. I really like her work though some say seen one, you’ve seen them all. They’re quite mysterious and convey a sense of alienation about being a woman in this society. Without specific narratives but full of psychological richness, these women are surrounded by everyday objects that serve as metaphors for the inner world. I couldn’t work out from the signage which title related to which painting. I’ll hazard a guess but may be wrong – Google was no help. I think this is Good Bad Mirror 2023. They are all oil on canvas. I love the background objects – the dog so finely drawn and the baton – what does it mean. Protruding should bones. Enigmatic expression.

That title could relate to this painting which also features a mirror, or it could be Second Meal 2022. Is the woman pleased with her reflection or not? You can’t tell from her expression. And maybe the baton is a wand, maybe it’s a magic mirror. I love the formal composition and the colours.

I think this one is Second Banana 2022, although that could be the one above! There’s lots of repetition in these works. The woman’s shoulder bones here are again protruding. What’s she thinking? The mirror in the background reflects another woman. Is the object on the bed a diary or a picture frame turned upside down? It’s the same bedroom as the one in the painting.

And this seems to be The Bars 2022. Again the posture of the woman at the back is enigmatic – is she sad or just waiting her turn. The watermelon is pretty but what’s it doing there – to be eaten after their exercise?

And this might be Night 2022. I love the choice of items on the bed – a letter perhaps and an apple. The stairs in the background lead where? What is she thinking? Her posture could be relaxed but her face is serious. Mysterious and evocative. I love the ambiguity in all of them.

This painting is in fact in two frames hung closely together. God is You 2022, synthetic polymer paint, coffee and badges on canvas, by American artist Chase Hall. He uses innovative materials and techniques to highlight racial inequalities that are part of America’s past and present. This is based on an archival photograph of a congregation at a Baptist conference. It looks exuberant but the use of coffee pigment and raw canvas – both intrinsic to the slave trade – contain a different message.

I like seeing displays of clothes in these exhibitions – always interesting, some-times spectacular. Shipwreck, jacket, top and trousers, headscarf 2023, triacetate, polyester is by Thebe Magugu of South Africa. The title refers to the South African folktale of Mami Wata, a mermaid-like creature who lured fishermen astray. Why does every culture have these savage stories about women! Anyway it looks quite ready to wear!

At first glance these drawings could be by Rembrandt but they’re not. Entitled After Rembrandt 2019, etching, ed. 30/38; by English artist, Glenn Brown. Pretty spectacular likeness but I’m unsure about the whole enterprise – why bother when you can’t out-do?

I can’t remember when we moved down a floor, but it might have been after visiting a room curated by Yoko Ono – meaning her idea. It’s a tribute to mothers, I can’t remember what it was called and Google is no help! Visitors are invited to write tributes to their mother and stick them on the wall – an amazing number of people have done so. Not Joe and I and I didn’t want to read any of them – too personal – although Joe took a moment to do so.

We both loved the next room which contained two pieces by Swiss artist Franziska Furter and which the gallery is seeking to acquire. Haku 2023 glass (beads), thread and Liquid skies / Gyrwynt (meaning ‘hurricane in Welsh) 2023 wool. Here’s the room as a whole.

And from another angle focussing on the ceiling (hopefully). The thousands of hand-threaded glass beads emulate ethereal swathes of fog. It’s inspired by a painting by J.M.W. Turner displayed nearby, Falls of Schaffhausen which I didn’t photograph. Fog was not what it conjured for me -rather something magical.

Here is the carpet close up. Wonderful, vibrant colours depicting a composite of multiple infrared satellite images of hurricanes. Visitors are invited to to rest on the carpet to consider our place within the landscape. I did see people walking on it but I couldn’t bring myself to – so beautiful.

Closer again of one of the biggest hurricanes depicted. Such a strong sense of movement strong!

I can’t remember when we moved to the next floor – it may have been after this room – or maybe not. In any event I’ll now move to second post about the exhibition.