![]() ![]() Extending this sensitive approach both to fibers and exhibition spaces is Yuko Mohri’s kinetic installation I/O (2011–2023), in which long reams of white paper are affected by humidity, dust, and other atmospheric conditions in the gallery. The installation Tuakirikiri (2023) by Mataaho Collective, whose members are Māori, weaves together industrial orange and grey trailer ratchet straps to brace the building, turning the hall into a large-scale loom. A colorful, shimmering work, it brings disparate references to mind, including kintsugi practices, in which broken ceramics are repaired with gold, and El Anatsui’s minimalist installations. I-Lann Yee’s Tepo Putih Ikan Masin (Salted Fish White Mat, 2023) is a hanging composed of woven-together north-Malay mats, typically used for drying fish and in other domestic settings. A focus of these is textile installations, which demand a particular attention to their making. Reflecting Lee’s artist-centric approach, it’s a relatively intimate biennale: seventy artists, many presenting new commissions. This sensitivity to exhibition environment carries through a thoughtful, slow-moving show that allows ample space for each work to be considered on its own terms. Instead of constructing new white walls to conceal the building’s decline, Lee and her team have largely left the space as it stands, with the exception of a few partitions of uncut boards and natural-fiber panels. These vast spaces have vexed curators from Okwui Enwezor to Maria Lind, yet this year’s artistic director, Sook-Kyung Lee, has embraced the rickety structure. Walking through the same structure-comprising four mega halls connected by ramps, and still in use by the biennale-feels like exploring an abandoned world expo site. The cavernous exhibition hall of the Gwangju Biennale was built in 1994 and intended to host only one exhibition. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |