A goodbye and a rehearsal

In the picture: SITE GALLERY, Centre for Contemporary Art, Sheffield

Call me an hopeless romantic.

Call me even pathetic, but when a show ends, a show you worked on with enthusiasm and dedication, you do feel a bit sad. 

Yesterday, Martin Westwood's Flat-field went down from The Bay Window and the curtains were replaced, making it an ordinary window again. 

The project is not finished of course.

More artists will come, in fact one per month until December, and right during these days, just before the holidays, I am working on the next project and press release, which you will soon find published on this blog.

We had a glorious rehearsal moment yesterday. 

OK, I am disclosing just one thing about the next project: it's a video.

How do you project on a window? By using normal tracing paper. This allows the image to be seen from the other side, too. Well, this was just in theory, and yesterday it was the moment of truth (I must confess I was a bit concerned).

I would have liked someone taking pictures of us staring at the window from the other side of the street, dumbfounded. Not only it works, it's mesmerising.

Can't wait for the opening. Hope you are curious, too.

THE GUESTBOOK

When you put up art projects with no physical place, is very difficult to keep track of feedbacks. And it's the feedback that allows a project to evolve, to grow. Without people's opinion, we risk to fall in sterile self-contemplation.

In short, we would like to hear from you.

Did you see Sorry, We're Open, spotted some interesting things and would like to speak your mind? 

Have you just bumped into The Bay Window or missed the opening in which there was an actual notebook to sign? 

This post is for you.

Please leave a comment.

Posted by sybin

SybinQ Art Projects is born

Martin Westwood, Flat-field, 2010
Laminated print on window glazing
4 panels, dimensions variable.

Courtesy: The Artist and SybinQ Art Project

I wanted to write a post about exhibiting in a window.

The exhibition finishes in two days and I have been feeling that weird sensation of melancholy for the whole week. Being a curator can't really get so personal, but I guess it's normal: you always work on temporary projects, the shows, which are set up and then dismantled. If you do a good job, they will be remembered, mentioned, and inspire people for... ever? 

Well, at least for a very long time.

I'd like to talk plainly about The Bay Window Project now, beyond the academism of the press release. First of all, the idea was inspired by my Mum. She is not that into art, but likes to gaze-peep into other people's windows at night, when the curtains are slightly open and you can catch a glimpse of what's going on in a house different from yours. Something unavoidable, that is, curiosity. An invading tool, that makes you call yourself a voyeur with all the wrong connotations this term implies. 

But, in fact, minding people's business is licit if done through the media: the Big Brother on TV, all sorts of video on You Tube, not to mention that I am living in the most surveyed country in the world, a nation under CCTVs. The present show at Tate Modern, Exposed, is just about this. It is interesting to see what happens, instead, when the gaze is free to wonder in an urban environment. Usually the mind is blinded by personal thoughts, which make it difficult to actually register disruptions in the ordinary layout of buildings, shops, advertising signs, and so on.

This is where The Bay Window places itself, attempting to attract the passer-by gaze.
Documenting curiosity, in this case, becomes difficult. I have been observing people strolling along the street and hardly anyone is aware of their surroundings. Moreover, of the very few ones who might have raised their chin, spotted the window, and understood that they weren't looking at blinds, I know nothing of their thoughts. I would really like to hear opinions, to have crits. From "interesting" to "why would this interest me?" Art breeds on discussion, and I feel that this project, still at its embryonal state, needs some feedback.

The opening saw thirty people coming and it was nice chatting with them and hearing their impressions. I had a black notebook for the purpose, which collected, in total, two comments: one was raising an health and safety issue, the other was, simply, "Amazing project. You inspire people."

I shall add, at the end, that a new peculiar exhibition space is born: SybinQ Art Projects.
For now, it's in the Bay Window. But being not a gallery space, it can change place.

Note to the picture: since I do not have a camera with the wide angle lens, this is the result of sticking two pictures together. And yes, I took the inspiration from Digby's work, to whom I apologise for the poor result.

The (late) Events

All is left of the show is the orange vinyl on the door, that we forgot to remove. 

Russel Charter's installation next to it, that was blocking the view from outside, is gone too, leaving place to an exceptionally shiny window. Dylan Shipton's structure was dismantled piece by piece, several of which were just thrown away. All the other framed works, including the huge Odyssey panel, are bubble-wrapped and awaiting collection.

The plinths we recycled from the room in the basement came back to their place, one painted black, another pierced in various points with a drill in order to let some cables passing through. 

Dust, screws, plaster and a hammer.

Fresh white paint on the walls and on some tape, to try and conceal the drilled holes on the plinth.

After the hard work, nothing remains but pictures, and some mention here and there. For example, let's remember the Events before the memory fades away (musica, Maestro!)

First of all, a big thank you to Digby Washer for having taken these glorious pictures.

Digby likes to construct the picture by assembling different frames, creating elements of surprise and displacement. In this picure, Cesare Pietroiusti was just starting his talk about The Artist and the Given Space. He told us about his different experiences, as an artist, of trying to go beyond the wall, like for example when he worked for three hours to demolish a wall in a cellar during an art event in Rome. 

He though he would have found a passage to go to a garden on the other side and ended up in a private loo, instead. Behind the wall, there stood another one. Back to the talk, people interacted with him (which, in fact, is one of the points of his practice) making questions, and everyone seemed to have had a good time. We were very pleased to see, among the public, Whitechapel Gallery's director Iwona Blazwick and Documenta's curator Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev. 

The cream of the crop was, in the end, to finally see the performance Dancing on Kelkulè devised by artist Sophie Vent. 

Sophie was introduced to the show by Will and Clementina gave a description of her work in the handouts: "Dancing on Kelkulè is a live performance of the B-Endorphin molecule translated through dance. The translation derives from the chemical structure of the molecule; the skeletal diagram is re-built and represented as a physical form, translating the language and symbols of the diagram into a new system of interpretation. Vent worked alongside choreographer Jummy Bolanji & Child of Zion dance group for a new language growing up from the molecular shapes, physical properties and Kekulè's Laws."

Art and Science. Again.

So, how does a molecule behave then? It jumps, up and down. It changes direction quite suddenly, it tries to mingle with the other ones without succeeding. It wears quite a serious face, it knows what its job is and can't get distracted. What does it transmits? Energy. Pure energy.

To conclude with Thank Yous, hail to the participating dancers and their coreographer: Arinthia, Jummy Bolaji, Ta’Shanh Clarke, Jaigh Ejakpovi, Davida John, Abraham Kanu, Santhy Sivananthan.

Coming Soon...

The academic year at University is now finished.
The first term passed as fast as light, I think we are realising it now after the rush, struggle, and of course concentration into finishing our assignments.

I am now working on something opening in two days.

It's a show of course, but with different parameters: it's called The Bay Window Project.



It's time to use this blog again!

What's going on

Ouch.
No posts since more than ten days!
Well, it's a bit difficult when you have to:

1. Follow up a show;
2. Finish your assignments;
3. Open the events day and close the show the day after;
4. Organise another small project;
5. Remember you had a social life.

We even have amazing pictures to post, so please bear with us.

You won't be disappointed again!

The Stories Behind the Opening

Wednesday morning, 9:30 am at the University.

In Unit 2, Will is squatted on the floor, manoeuvring cables and plugs next to a black hand painted plinth, under Sophie's gaze: the loop of the video Dancing on Kelkule' (B-END) isn't working because of a missing remote, and she's just back from Argos where she bought a new DVD player with a remote; now it's just the case to understand which cable goes in which plug. Meanwhile, Francesca is standing on the ladder, cleaning the dusty and so far neglected surface of the spotlights. We've spent the previous days scraping the floor, then polished by the cleaners, sanding the wall and re-painting it: the long, rectangular gallery looks fresh and new.

All the works are up and ready but three: Habda is gone to Charlotte's studio to collect two and is due to come in at 12-ish. We are adding a new piece, Night Gown, that the artist has just finished, because the left hand side wall next to Dylan's installation looks a bit empty. For a moment, setting up a show looks like furnishing a home. You notice an empty space above the sofa: you buy a mirror or something in a frame. For a great collector, that would be a painting.

The other missing work is THE Odyssey. Not ready yet.

The day before, I had my very first long face when I discovered that the MDF panel was painted at 4.30 pm and was going to take all night to dry up. Moreover, the switches' plates didn't have their gloss yet. That meant finishing the work on Wednesday, the opening day, by 6 pm. Hah.

9:35 am.

My long face and I are at the spray workshop in order to beg Andy, who's swamped with other work, to spray finish the plates, which will dry in two hours (two hours!) We exchange pleasantries, and then Andy makes my morning by saying that he did the job at 8:30 am and we can collect the plates in half an hour or so. I jump back downstairs to meet D.V., who is now officially helping Silvia and has been nominated our guardian angel: a skilled technician, practical and direct person, he will reveal himself to be an essential add. We go in search of a gun...for hot melt glue, not to shoot anyone of course.

11:30 am.

The panel is dried and ready on trestles in the workshop in front of the spray finishing room. Silvia and D.V. are inserting switches in the holes, which click perfectly in place. The gun is not warming up. It takes 10 minutes before realising that the plug isn't working. New plug. The gun works. At 11:46, we have our first test of gluing a plate to a table, to see if it holds. It does. More or less.

12:07 pm.

Back in Unit 2. The video loop works, but there are problems with the plinth crashing the cable and stopping the connection. A big, black, heavy TV sits atop of the plinth and has to be removed every time a new arrangement is made. Nonetheless, Will doesn't loose his high spirit. I get a text from Habda: all well, she is on her way with the works. If we need anything just let her know. Same text from Clementina, who will come in the afternoon. Fran is adjusting the projector's position for Gusztav and Katja's video Transposed Bodies, which in the meantime has been kept playing: although none of us speaks German, I think we now know the lines by heart.

12:33 pm.

I go back to the workshop room, which is 5-7 minutes walk from Unit 2, to see how the plates gluing is going. One line is done. The lines are 21. The switches 160. One line per hour makes...I suddenly realise that the work is proceeding very slowly because of the accuracy Silvia is putting in choosing the right colour combination among the six selected. I make her promise to speed up, then I regret saying that: beautiful things are always slow. From the back of my mind, I hear a voice shrieking: No.Time.For.Cheap.Poetry.Damnit!

2:30 pm.

I bring the guys something to eat and have my sandwich along the way. Two lines done. But, most of the plates have been arranged, it's just a matter of gluing them. 

3:05 pm.

Back in Unit 2. Charlotte's works are up and look amazing, I may make some more considerations in a minute. On D.V.'s suggestion, I am putting the screws in the wall for Odyssey in advance so, if they really finish last minute, at least we will save time on the hanging. Will, who in the end managed to fix the video but isn't quite done yet, and I diligently take all the measurements according to D.V.'s instructions, and mark the four holes for the screws. 

4:16 pm.

I spend at least half an hour to check that the holes are on the same line: not easy when you have a 224 cm long work and a spirit level measuring only one meter.

I need a string. And blue tack. There was plenty of it but I can't find it anymore (I will find it two months later, in the back pocket of my shopping trolley. And I have the suspect it was actually me who put it there). While the others start to clean up the space from tools and additional dust, I go to buy some more tack justincase and to see what the situation is with the work.

4:30 pm.

Still gluing. Some of the plates have started being temperamental and refuse to stick. The three bottom lines are all done. Plus the first two and some other random plates. I receive a phone call from Fran saying if I wanted to go home with her and relax a bit. I thank her and decline.

5:05 pm.

The corridor outside the workshop bears the marks of my pacing back and forth. Inside, the guys are pitching on.

5:23 pm.

I receive a phone call. What.Is.The.Piece.At? I am not surprised by the hint of impatience in his voice. My calm wears off for a second, but I reassure him that we are almost there, the screws are in the wall already, and all we have to do is to pop the work onto...I don't see any screws in the wall, is the answer.

What?

There are no screws in the wall.

Oh, brilliant. After having pulled myself together, I ask to speak to Will, who explains to me that he prefers to see the work before putting screws, just in case it needs to be moved...I give up for a couple of minutes and report to Silvia and D.V. They urge me to put the screws in the wall.

5:31 pm.

I call Will again. Same conversation. I feel like hot metal between two anvils, and about to be squeezed like a lemon. I run for it, back to Unit 2, and can feel my throat drying off. When I get in breathless, I am not even able to speak: Pu...Scr...heh...Wall...No...W! And I also remember to say Pls.

While GoodWill does that, I quickly fix the video camera that has to film everyone activating the switches in place, on an existing ledge above Russel's work. There is just a plastic string holding it in place, plus loads of blue tack. God bless the Blue Tack. Wish me luck.

5:47 pm.

The screws are in the wall. Will and I are on our way to collect the work. As soon as he and D.V. lift it, a couple of plates fall off.

5:51 pm.

People stare and cars honk while a panel with 160 coloured switches floats about, carried by two rather exhausted guys. Silvia and I waddle behind, hoping not to have to grab other fallen plates. We miss the shortcut to Unit 2 and take a parallel street. It seems to take forever.

5:54 pm.

Artwork approaching! I sprint forward, open Unit 2's door wide and declare: "They're here". There are people in the gallery. Thank God it's just the artists. The others wait in front of the work's spot to finally see it. Great expectations are in the air.

5:55 pm.

Odyssey enters Unit 2. Just one last effort and...pop! It perfectly sits on the screws. It's straight. It holds. A spontaneous though slightly exasperated applause bursts out. Fallen plates still to be fixed.

5:57 pm.

Video camera is on and records my panicked face and waving hands as the first thing. I cross the gallery carrying the ladder and bump in a couple of acquaintances who came to see the show...early. I am not dressed nicely, have no make up, and my cheeks are bright red. But I definitely feel relieved.

6:00 pm.

SORRY, WE'RE OPEN.