Wuv & Wage

Author: Kelly Kelly | Love & Rage Event Recap

Wuv and Wage. We all know how to describe these two things, these percolations of spirit that bubble up from time to time, something along the lines of “love is happy, rage is angry!” Those of us embedded in circles of empowerment, therapy, and childcare, also appreciate the false dichotomy of love and rage. At least on an intellectual level, we can appreciate that rage isn’t a bad thing. And sometimes love isn’t always the answer. So all in all, the concepts of love and rage are healthy soil to plant a flagship art exhibit! Tethered ARI, a company of five early career artists, described their exhibition as an opportunity to hold a mirror up to themselves and to consider their own relationship with, you guessed it, love and rage. Of course, the event was also necessary in order to simply (not so simply) birth the baby. The exhibit was a playground of ideas. Or better yet, a friend’s living room. In part, this is due to the personal nature of the topics at hand(s).

There is an automatic, immediate, raw projection onto the artworks from your own experiences. You resonate with how someone else feels, or admire someone else’s outlook. It was inevitable to walk out of the exhibit and feel fulfilled in some way.

It is inevitable to walk out and feel fulfilled in some way… but how would you walk in? I arrived Saturday midday and was welcomed at the entrance by lovely Gretel and Summers. What first caught my eye was Angel’s two pieces: The Chariot and The Lovers. These were two dining scenes, one ossified, waxy, ghostly, and the other, we’ll get to. You know how someone says “what do you bring to the table”, I think that is what is going on here. And then there is a smattering of candles on The Lovers, potentially a nod to “holding a candle” for someone? And maybe a candle is lit for different people who sit at the table with you. Maybe some are relit. And with time, the candle melts and the table is changed by the wax. If only The Lovers table could be seen in action! And I don’t mean that in a perverse way, I mean a table lit by candlelight in the dark, how beautiful would that be?

Unless such a scene was mishandled and led to…. (Segue incoming) The Chariot! The same table but incinerate, cremated, punished, burnt to tetanus shot levels of rust and crust. Destroyed but…. Not. As it still exists. Angel’s tables remind me of Dewey and Bentley’s transactionalism - you change and are changed by those around you in a never ending loop of reciprocity. Also, do you notice the strange shapes in the chairs and tables? Someone said they’re Rorschach tests, what do you think that could be about?

In regards to procedure, it is same same but different for Chapman’s other piece: Perfect Bone Structure. A collection of bone with fresh, live bone marrow inside. It reminded me of how much I love that the inside of living bone is in fact deep red with blood. It makes something as strong as bone demystify and become vulnerable. But anyway, it’s not marrow even, it’s some cursed, turbulent biomatter. Chapman described that she was moulding clay and the forms came to her. Again, the art coming from the process but, to me, in a different way. I found it remarkable that she didn’t already have the Intention of making this behind working with the clay because this was one of my favourite pieces. Chapman also described how yourself is always embedded in everything you make, whether you realise it or not. So what is true will come through. I think most of all I enjoyed the truth of this art piece - how you’re expected to hold it all together with a pretty bow on top. And if you don’t have a release valve, you get sick.

Next was Chapman’s Love Body, a blushing tapestry of pubic hair and a mosaic of snapshots. Now this is the art piece that made its way onto a majority, if not all, of the advertisements for this exhibition. After yarning with Chapman, I admire her procedural process. The piece itself is very defiant. The fact one must look up at it. I couldn’t help but imagine the tapestry like the obelisk from Space Odyssey or like the skin lady from Dr Who, which I suppose might have some… symbolic merit to it. But the admiration comes from understanding the story. The fact of dedicating her time to creating a mural to her evolving, shifting, experience of love. Dedicating herself to her experience of love. I am happy for her.

Down the hall, Tarry’s puppet sat and their painting hung. Their didactice’s do a good job explaining what the pieces are, I don’t feel the need to harp on about them. But I will write that I was touched by the painting and its meaning, and I could see the relationship between it and the puppet. How their relationship with other people’s relationship with their gender expression, the seesaw of internalised pressure to just be “normal” and the heartfelt desire to be authentic, has impacted their capacity to be intimate with others.

As someone who also creates hyperrealistic artI feel comradery with Milan’s pieces. In particular I admired the wetness of the heart and noticing the necklace on Quiet Rage being showcased in Love Connection.

All the while explaining these things, I’ve made an omission, or at least I’ve contained a series of letters and syntax until this part of the piece: in order to enter the space, you have to walk through and/or around one of the pieces which I think, was a piece that very harmoniously lapped at the shores of the others and connected them all. A projected video showing someone ripping a hanging cocoon of sheet, then struggling to repair or make use of the sheet. And other people support in mending the sheet. It’s giving Kintsugi, which ties the piece to Angel’s. There is dedication which ties it to Chapman’s and Milan’s. And potentially a similar fable as Tarry, but then that’s spreading the butter a bit thin. The piece was a lovely reminder of tender love.

I write this all as someone with, yes, a creative disposition however nil and/or naught artistic training or practice in creative critical thinking. Consider this a piece written by an amoeba and please just be impressed that I could even summon the electrical power from my one braincell to even string these words together. The string may be a macaroni necklace but a string nonetheless.I hold my cards close to my chest and don’t mind an eye-roll or two to pet my ego. When I walked in and saw the reference to Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women’s Anger and Rythym 0, I couldn’t help but think this exhibit would be a cliche without any philosophical high octane notes. I thought this was going to be a “womanhood is pain” kind of feminism, which I personally hate. But in hindsight - why was I wanting to intellectualise these organic matters of love and rage? It’s an ongoing problem for myself, I try to think so I don’t feel. And, as I always say, I think a lot. But that’s enough about me, and clearly another story.

Monday, 13 October | Author: Kelly Kelly | Edited & Visuals: Kyla Bass

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