A cascading glacier of refuse, from ceiling to floor, greets the viewers as they step into Bozo Ink’s latest installation and incarnation/collaboration – this time between Hobart’s Amanda Shone and Melbourne artists Cameron Bishop and Simon Reis. Amongst other abjections fridges capture glaciated moments with perspex protrusions, and projected figures that move, wriggle and incubate inside of them. Fridge becomes womb, fridge as technological hubris, fridge is a stillborn archive. The archive can only be written in analogue form, and even then it is open to interpretation. Fridges lie in glacial detritus and moraine inside the gallery space, distinguishable in the mist by their straight lines and animated interiors.
Barthe said; "landscape is the cultural sign of nature". Nature will swamp culture, and things will be indistinguishable, indeterminate and finite. No-one will be around to read the archive or to uncover humanity's stratified rubbish or to build a museum around it. To look backwards to read forwards is specific to human nature. White-noise words in the mist are meaningless, but become portents when a bureaucracy builds an arcane architecture around them. They become the stuff of magic. Can a bureaucracy/archive exist without voices? Listen to the crevasse, it whispers bad dreams.
SOUNDS provided on the night by the talented Mr Michael Fortescue. (Sound starts at 7pm.)
About Bozo Ink
Bozo Ink is a name under which a loose band of artists collaborate. By nature it is fluid, chaotic and open-ended, yet manages to galvanise particular groups of people at critical times, when their ideas coalesce. Since 2004 it has exhibited pieces in both legitimate and illegitimate settings, from freeways and isolated pine forests to the McClelland Gallery Sculpture Survey and Award. The theory is that if you put enough clowns in one room with enough laptops, nonsense will prevail. Or perhaps no one will ever read what they write. So it’s a moot point.
No comments:
Post a Comment