Some recent art shows in Edinburgh
Jul. 6th, 2008 01:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rhythmaningLast weekend, I missed the bus that was meant to take me to the hills. Finding myself with a spare day, I decided to wander around some galleries.
I went first to the Ingleby Gallery for last exhibition in their current setting. The Ingleby is one of my favourite galleries anywhere: set in the ground floor of a Georgian townhouse, it is as if you have been invited into someone’s house to look at some art (which is, perhaps, how this gallery started: the upper floors remain a family home). It always feels like a privilege going to see art there: the scale is very personal. I love it.
For the last year, they have staged a series of duets: two artists showing together, one contemporary artist paired with another, usually less contemporary.
There is actually a special treasure there, too: an Andy Goldsworthy installation inside a traditional cupboard or “wall press”. Most of the time, the door is closed; opening it is like opening a door to another world (OK, C S Lewis might had too much influence on my sensibilities): it is just so odd to find the mud-wall inside a cupboard.
This time, though, I couldn’t see the Goldsworthy: the back gallery which houses it was blacked out for a video by Samuel Beckett, “Quad II”. This was a fascinating, hypnotic work by the famous dramatist: I watched it thorugh several times. One, two, three and finally four cowled figures walked around a square, following carefully choreographed moves to avoid each other. That is it: no drama, just walking and avoiding. This was fascinating, and gripping; I tried to work out the rules they followed to avoid each other: I failed (however, I am not at all surprised that an analysis of the rules appears on Wikipedia…).
Richard Wright’s piece in the front gallery left me completely cold: gold leaf decoration in another wall press.
The Ingleby Gallery is moving after this show (which finished yesterday!) to a new space beside Waverley Station, housed in what used to be the Venue, a dingy rock bar (where I saw some great gigs!). The old premises are being returned to a family house - good for the family, but I was sad to leave what has been such a lovely exhibition space. I am sure the new gallery will be interesting, and I am really looking forward to seeing it - but I doubt it will feel so special.
Avoiding a heavy downpour, I then walked to the Royal Botanic Gardens. I was prompted to go there to see and hear a couple of installations, together called “Dialogues of Wind and Bamboo”.
The bamboo in question is a sculpture on a lawn, a series of painted bamboo stalks weaving through the plants and trees; it had been used as a setting for dance and music performances, but I missed those; The sticks alone I thought were pretty neat.
Nearby were some very beautiful, intensely blue iris – my favourite flowers.
I then went to Inverleith House, in the centre of the garden. When I first lived in Edinburgh (and, co-incidentally, spent much of my time studying in the garden), this housed the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art; now it is used for one-off exhibitions. There are currently two: one about the collection of John Balfour, who lived in Inverleith House (it was the residence of the Regius Keeper of the garden), the other featuring new works on paper by Louise Bougeois.
I didn’t find the exhibition of Balfour’s objects very interesting; and I found the Bourgeois rather disturbing. The juxtaposition of the two was, I think, meant to elicit a response to Bourgeois’ plant-like depiction of the female body – her show was called “Nature Study”. I really didn’t like these pictures: in blood-red gouache, they seemed to be full of pain, with no beauty. (The RBGE website has several examples from the show).
There was one bit of the exhibition I liked, which I only noticed because I almost went in through the out door. Above the lintel was written: “I still believe in miracles”. This filled me full of hope (coming as it did before I saw the pictures). I would not have noticed this coming out of that door, and I haven’t noticed it before, so I have to think that it was written above the door solely for this show – although next time I go there, I shall have to see.
I finished in the Palm House, listening to the wind part of “Wind and Bamboo”: a gentle musical installation played on traditional Chinese instruments automatically, using programmed (the leaflet says “robotic”) machines to pluck strings and strike percussion. It was very peaceful, and rather lovely. There is a podcast of the pieces available.
I went first to the Ingleby Gallery for last exhibition in their current setting. The Ingleby is one of my favourite galleries anywhere: set in the ground floor of a Georgian townhouse, it is as if you have been invited into someone’s house to look at some art (which is, perhaps, how this gallery started: the upper floors remain a family home). It always feels like a privilege going to see art there: the scale is very personal. I love it.
For the last year, they have staged a series of duets: two artists showing together, one contemporary artist paired with another, usually less contemporary.
There is actually a special treasure there, too: an Andy Goldsworthy installation inside a traditional cupboard or “wall press”. Most of the time, the door is closed; opening it is like opening a door to another world (OK, C S Lewis might had too much influence on my sensibilities): it is just so odd to find the mud-wall inside a cupboard.
This time, though, I couldn’t see the Goldsworthy: the back gallery which houses it was blacked out for a video by Samuel Beckett, “Quad II”. This was a fascinating, hypnotic work by the famous dramatist: I watched it thorugh several times. One, two, three and finally four cowled figures walked around a square, following carefully choreographed moves to avoid each other. That is it: no drama, just walking and avoiding. This was fascinating, and gripping; I tried to work out the rules they followed to avoid each other: I failed (however, I am not at all surprised that an analysis of the rules appears on Wikipedia…).
Still from “Quad II”, taken from the Ingleby Gallery’s website.
Richard Wright’s piece in the front gallery left me completely cold: gold leaf decoration in another wall press.
The Ingleby Gallery is moving after this show (which finished yesterday!) to a new space beside Waverley Station, housed in what used to be the Venue, a dingy rock bar (where I saw some great gigs!). The old premises are being returned to a family house - good for the family, but I was sad to leave what has been such a lovely exhibition space. I am sure the new gallery will be interesting, and I am really looking forward to seeing it - but I doubt it will feel so special.
Avoiding a heavy downpour, I then walked to the Royal Botanic Gardens. I was prompted to go there to see and hear a couple of installations, together called “Dialogues of Wind and Bamboo”.
The bamboo in question is a sculpture on a lawn, a series of painted bamboo stalks weaving through the plants and trees; it had been used as a setting for dance and music performances, but I missed those; The sticks alone I thought were pretty neat.
Nearby were some very beautiful, intensely blue iris – my favourite flowers.
I then went to Inverleith House, in the centre of the garden. When I first lived in Edinburgh (and, co-incidentally, spent much of my time studying in the garden), this housed the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art; now it is used for one-off exhibitions. There are currently two: one about the collection of John Balfour, who lived in Inverleith House (it was the residence of the Regius Keeper of the garden), the other featuring new works on paper by Louise Bougeois.
I didn’t find the exhibition of Balfour’s objects very interesting; and I found the Bourgeois rather disturbing. The juxtaposition of the two was, I think, meant to elicit a response to Bourgeois’ plant-like depiction of the female body – her show was called “Nature Study”. I really didn’t like these pictures: in blood-red gouache, they seemed to be full of pain, with no beauty. (The RBGE website has several examples from the show).
There was one bit of the exhibition I liked, which I only noticed because I almost went in through the out door. Above the lintel was written: “I still believe in miracles”. This filled me full of hope (coming as it did before I saw the pictures). I would not have noticed this coming out of that door, and I haven’t noticed it before, so I have to think that it was written above the door solely for this show – although next time I go there, I shall have to see.
I finished in the Palm House, listening to the wind part of “Wind and Bamboo”: a gentle musical installation played on traditional Chinese instruments automatically, using programmed (the leaflet says “robotic”) machines to pluck strings and strike percussion. It was very peaceful, and rather lovely. There is a podcast of the pieces available.
