A Two-Times Exhibition: Silvia Iorio's Odyssey 2010 | Odisseia 2011

Perhaps some of you remember this post.
It doesn't say much, it is just the Press Release of the first show my colleagues and I curated as part of our  MA in Curating the Contemporary at the London Metropolitan University, which we successfully completed this year. Instead, that simple post - and show, is the start of something unique.
Something that needs to be read through the lines to be caught and understood.


But let's proceed in an orderly fashion.
When we involved artist Silvia Iorio in this show, she conceived an artwork, Odyssey, which was to be further developed in the upcoming year. The challenge presented to her to go beyond a clearly defined site, and pierce the walls of a space, was met with the idea of creating a two-times exhibition.
Odyssey is a panel with 160 coloured switches "that people were invited to activate during the opening night, on the12th of May. No light would go off at the same time, though: the artist decided to stretch this event in Time – and Space – by having the Light travelling through the Universe for One Light Year. An unconceivable distance for a human being, as it is the speed at which the Light travels (...)
Through Silvia Iorio's eyes, the journey of Odyssey’s Light reached even the most remote and unknown points of the Universe. The various stages of the journey would have been impossible to document had it not been for the experiences of the people attached to them. As part of the project, the artist created the conditions for those who participated to Odyssey to re-interact with the artwork: every 12th of the month, for 12 months, they received an email with questions about what they were doing at a precise time, what they were thinking, and if their mind and body were “connected”. How many times are we caught in the middle of doing something, but our mind is elsewhere? Yet, mind and body are closely interconnected, like the switch and the light. Through the answers she received and collected, Silvia Iorio was expanding the concept of dislocation and taking it onto new levels."*

Silvia Iorio, Odyssey, 2010, One hundred and sixty switches, MDF, enamel, aluminium and wood, 224 x 118 cm

Now, what happened after a year, namely this year 2011?
The first thing to say would be that artist and curator, too, were dislocated. The artist was in Berlin, the curator in London. The two of them were disjointed, their dialogue possible only through modern technology. As the dialogue between Odyssey and its twin work Odisseia, everything seemed hard and impossible: how can it be that two different events, happening at a different time and place, are brought together and re-connected in a solo show? Initial ideas were discarded and a more complex outcome took form, the barriers of space and time acting as incentives. It couldn't have been just the same panel, with 160 lamp bulbs bearing the same colour as the switches, and lighting up in the same sequence they were activated one year before. Very predictable.
But Silvia Iorio is an artist of many resources, and surprises, as sometimes Science is. 
Therefore, the Light manifested itself through imaginary Celestial Maps, from where unknown stars, which are lost in the vastness of Universe, shine for real for the eyes of those who can see them. 
They shine for the eyes of those who see the created connections. Light came back to Earth, and earth made its appearance in the gallery space. 21 people among many who activated the switches, one year before, were the most regular contributors in answering Silvia's question about their whereabouts. 
Their coloured experiences materialised in the form of 21 light terminals, and here the circle clicks, and closes.


And to think that everything happened by simply turning on a switch!
On September 22, 2011, the exhibition Silvia Iorio Odyssey 2010 | Odisseia 2011, was successfully concluded.

Silvia Iorio - Odisseia 2011, Installation view

Odisseia 2011 - Celestial Map, detail, dimensions variable 

As I told Silvia, I find her watercolours nearly moving.
To imagine corners of Universe no one will probably ever see, but that she was able to evoke thanks to the inspiration of Light travel and people's experience, is a gift. 
The experience of the casual viewer included, of course, the fact that seeing is believing.


P.S.: I am happy to mention another show that successfully featured the Celestial Maps, which are having a great and well deserved success: Silvia Iorio, Age of Time. Edge of Space, part of the ongoing show series Rendez Vouz Mit Kunst at the Restaurant Diekmann in Berlin. The show, curated by Isabelle Meiffert, was on until the 8th of September. An installation view is below and more pictures can be found here.

_________________
(*) Extract from the catalogue's text. You can read the full version on the Galerie Mario Iannelli's website.

24 June 2011: She Devil 5, Rome > Kate Street

In a young Curator's career (or "career"), there are certain occasions for celebrations. You know, little small satisfactions, like when you select a talented video artist whose work is then included in a group show, and the screening happens to happen - hear ye! - in your hometown's Public Museum: the MACRO - Museum of Contemporary Art Rome.
Your name, together with those of other 12 remarkable colleagues, shines in small white letters on a black panel, and your little critical text is printed on paper handouts, and passed from hands to bags.

I saw Kate Street's work for the first time at Nettie Horn and always wanted to realise a project with her. Some fortunate circumstances made this possible in grand style, and for it I am grateful to the artist and to Italian gallerist Stefania Miscetti. But let's skip the chatting and go straight to the copy-and-paste of what the event was all about, plus some pics of the evening.

This is the Press Release:

SHE DEVIL was devised in 2006 by Stefania Miscetti for Italian and international female artists and curators, from the youngest to the most successful. Different works and critical perspectives coexist in a multivocal discourse which reveals the many facets of the female world and vision. This broad spectrum of activities and aims can be seen in the exhibitions that have been organised over the past years, which have included 40 video works and involved 24 curators, as well as a special international edition held in Bucharest in 2009.

As part of its summer 2011 exhibition cycle, MACRO is hosting a new edition of the project, now in its fifth year, an event that is perfectly in line with the galaxy of cultural and artistic proposals that have defined the identity of the Museum over the past few years. On the opening night the videos in this new edition will be presented in the conference room of the Museum's new wing, the nerve centre of the New MACRO exhibition area. The wing, too, was designed by a woman, the architect Odile Decq, thus it is the perfect setting for the presentation of the video works.

The Fifth Edition is curated by: Antonia Alampi, sybin - susanna bianchini, Benedetta Carpi de Resmini, Dobrila Denegri, Maria Garzia, Laura Giorgini, Maria Cristina Giusti, Caterina Iaquinta, Manuela Pacella, Cristiana Perrella, Lydia Pribisova, Elena Giulia Rossi, Chiara Vigliotti.

Thirteen videos by International female artists were presented, among which Kate Street's Flowering, 2010 (duration 1'29''). It was the only video animation on display.

In Kate's work, nature is always scary or uncanny. In Flowering’s case, the artist used childhood memories, in particular the belief according to which, if you swallow a plant’s seed, this grows up in our stomach. We see the plant filling the frame and engulfing the figure; its expansion creates an intermittent, not linear time suggested by the images that converge one inside the other in an uncertain, non-fluid way. The animated sequence makes one think of a complex association of thoughts, which is a characteristic of femalès nature; sometimes, our same guesswork overpowers us and it is hard to swallow it back inside, to dominate it. At the same time the ending, though not encouraging, suggests an exorcism of these fears, which is favoured just by going through such violent experience. As it happens also in her precedent works, Kate Street’s guideline is the different and possible meanings that some images’ associations generate in the viewer.

Kate Street, Flowering, 2010, video still. Courtesy: The Artist

She Devil 5 is on until 8 January 2012 at MACRO, precisely in the V-Tunnel.

I went back home for the opening, and the Museum was packed with people visiting also the other shows that are currently still on. It was nice to see familiar and unfamiliar faces around.

Show me the Shoes you wear and I will tell you what kind of Curator you are: Curator's Stuff 

Curator's Stuff - Stockholm

Colder, cosier, and more expensive.

That is how I would describe Stockholm at the first impact, compared to jolly old London. I have just spent five days there, setting foot in Sweden for the first time to accompany a certain Cardiologist to the annual ESC Congress. Work for him, leisure for me: I have discovered that wandering around on your own in a new city is not the end of the world after all*. But it is very, very harmful for your pockets, because you're more inclined to give in to the impulse buy.

Five days are not enough to understand another culture of course, but I could try and sum it up this way:

The Swedish like: 
- Tall and narrow spiral staircases (pictured);
- Walking on the cycling path;
- Keeping bar's customers in line (see below).

The Swedish don't like:
- To give directions;
- To use the word "pineapple" instead of "ananas";
- To apologise when they bump into someone. Unless "grunt" meant "sorry".

Speaking of cycling paths, I must admit that I have started to rate my liking or not of a city based a bit too much on how good the bikes facilities are. This way, poor Rome would occupy the last place on the chart.

In Stockholm there is the same bike scheme just launched in London, with the fundamental difference of being able to keep the bike for free for three hours, rather than just half an hour.

I guess the Stockholmers made this very clever reasoning: "There's no way a tourist will get the names of our streets straight: we must allow plenty of time for them to get lost, find their bearings, and try again." I would like to thank them for having thought of me. On two wheels, the whole city is at hand: the paths along the canals, with highways running right above your head, are very enjoyable, and even the worst sense of orientation has a chance of redemption.

Another thing I very much liked about Stockholm: I didn't get a Huh? as a reply when I said that I am a Curator.

For my visit, the main targets were, of course, museums and galleries. Let me say that the end of August is not really the best time for this, because most of the places are closed and busy preparing for the autumn season, like for example Magasin 3: THIS FALL A GREAT STORY BEGINS a lot of banners shouted around town. Shame I will only be able to follow their promising next show through the Internet.

Luckily, not only the Moderna Museet was open, but it had on the Ed Ruscha retrospective that I had missed when it was at the Hayward Gallery here in London. That's what made me think of the "Curator's Stuff": sometimes, on Facebook and in my language, I see some square messages appearing as links on people's status. For example: "Being happy about having put the eyeliner perfectly on one eye, forgetting that the same thing should happen on the other: Women's Stuff". Or another one, more specific for working roles: "To separate form from content: Designer's Stuff". And so on and so forth. There are the most embarrassing (and truthful!) features for Psychologists, Architects, Teachers, Singles, Students, Art Historians...but no Curators.

I can give you one now, the first of a long series in this blog:

> Missing a traveling exhibition in your hometown and going to see it in another country: Curator's Stuff.

The Moderna Museet knew its golden age in 1960 with the curator Pontus Hulten, who managed to create a bridge between Europe and America by hosting shows of young American painters, among which were Jasper Jones and Robert Rauschenberg. Later, in the 90s, he started to emphasise the direct participation of the audience to the shows by proposing broader themes like poetry or utopian societies.

> Spending four hours in a Museum, making sure you have read all the labels: Curator's Stuff.

The permanent collection has some real flagships, divided in chronological periods: for example, the Cow Wallpaper by Andy Warhol, in which the museum was wrapped up in 1968, Martha Rosler's Semiotics of the Kitchen, 1975 (embedded below: I found it illuminating) and a Surrealist woman I didn't know anything of: Dorothea Tanning.

> Getting annoyed because you have confused Eva Hesse with a relatively unknown Swedish artist: Curator's Stuff.

The day after was a Monday, vacation day for most of the exhibition spaces. The only arty place open was the Thielska Galleriet, at the far end of Djurgarden. No bike station was available down there, so my unfortunate travel companion (another lonely doctor's wife) and I parked the penny-farthing and embarked in what we thought was a 20 minutes walk to reach the spot. After 45 minutes, a rain shower, countryside landscapes and some moaning, we arrived at this lovely house from the beginning of XX century, owned by the banker Thiel, art patron of his times. The collection comprises remarkable examples of Nordic art from late XIX and beginning of XX century, not to mention the outstanding furniture and the poignant, decadent atmosphere of the place.

> Walking 4 kilometers to get to a remote public gallery just to see Edvard Munch's paintings in the flesh: Curator's Stuff.

* I am Italian: compulsive sociability is deeply rooted in my genes. We hate eating on our own, traveling on our own, and even talking on our own.

Ausstellungsmacher

Don't worry, I am not insulting anyone in another language.
Especially in German, which is something I don't even have a smattering of. I can pronounce Oranienstraße or Ja correctly, but that would be all.


According to Harald Szeemann, the Ausstellungsmacher (translated, the vulgar "Exhibition Organiser" before the advent of the fancy word "Curator") is:

- Administrator
- Amateur
- Author of Introductions
- Librarian
- Manager and Accountant
- Animator
- Conservator
- Financier
- Diplomat

Just a German word, to summing it up so well.

How about some advice?

I have read with great amusement this recommendations to a budding curator by the self confessed newspaper man Augustine Zenakos, who in turn was suggested to us by the curator Tom Morton. I couldn't resist but leaving some personal comments.

Read a lot of post-structuralism, preferably in the form of quotations you can find in catalogue essays. Quote them in turn, profusely, making sure their relationship to any actual artwork remains obscure.

Whenever I see the word "post-structuralism", I just turn the page over.

No studying anything before the 1960s is allowed. Learn all your history through contemporary art theory.

I tried that, but my heart belongs with the idea that history, all history, is necessary to do a good job.

Never say you are anything more than a facilitator for artists. If inadvertently you do, and you momentarily appear like having anything remotely resembling a vision or, worse, an agenda, cover it up quickly with a phrase like “curators have to stand firm against the voracity of the market”.

Yes, Master.

Be as immaterial as possible, be a ghost. Support everything anti-spectacular and insubstantial. When asked to describe it, use words like interventional, process-based, archaeological, investigative. If challenged with something like the inability of others to see the point, call them antiquated and formalist and declare the work of art to be changing.

You forgot to include "taxonomy" in your list, Master.

Praise the local, but in abstract terms. Make sure that you choose a local thing that does not require any local knowledge to be understood. If you can’t find something suitably local where you are, pick a Mexican or a Lithuanian one. When faced with a situation that is truly local, dismiss it as nationalist, and continue.

But this will cut any potential fund out, Master.

Be against state-run cultural policies, as well as private enterprise. Declare your support for small autonomous zones of collaboration. When asked about their funding, don’t dwell too much: this is not about money.

And the fact that it is never about money makes the curator zone off limits for those who can't afford it, which is a shame.

Be for independent organizations, but when faced with one, call it cliquey and turn away. There is nothing there for the taking, anyway.

Er...Yes, Master.

Always acknowledge the public. Say that all this is being done for their benefit, because contemporary art is for everyone. Then, blame lack of funding, public support, etc. If someone appears to be practical about these things, call them a behind-the-scenes-mover-and-shaker and state that you are not interested in authoritarian structure.

Wow, I never thought to actually be such a complicated thing. I just thought I was practical.

You’ll do fine.

Thank you, Master.

And now, let's close the little distraction-from-the-more-important-task-of-writing-the-damn-catalogue-text-for-our-show-post and go back to work.