My Impossible Gallery

I’ve been busy letting my mind wander to my dream exhibition on theVOV, composed of 15 artworks, 1 from each exhibition, with the binding theme of community and connection that I spoke about in my last blog post. I’ve spent so much time with these exhibitions, nearly a year, and I want to share with you my impossible gallery. 

So here’s what I would do…

You would walk in and find the whole gallery space itself floating in our VOV universe, through the windows you would see our lilac-pinky hues and our little bubbles drifting about.

The walls would be lacquered white ( I know how difficult it is to technologically do this, but hey! whilst we are dreaming!) floor to ceiling, which would be completely open to the VOV sky. On one side, you would see Hurvin Anderson’s, ‘Untitled Red Flags’, shown in the Ikon exhibition, the sandy-haze-beach, the brushed figures lends us the physical presence of space we are used to. There is something eerie about this painting, perhaps from the nod in the title towards danger, or the way the figures are blurred vertically suggesting upward movement rather than horizontally, which would lend a calming sense of people scurrying to and for on a beach. Instead, they look otherworldly, unhuman even. In the Drawing Room Space, you will find Marc Bauer has a huge mural of figures heading towards a boat, rendered also in this brushed way, where features are not easily discernable. Bauer’s show is centered around the migrant struggle, belonging and and unbelonging, and the lack of humanity shown towards this struggle is portrayed through the fuzzy charcoal pencil strokes. There is only one figure who’s features are depicted clearly, his features rendered well, he stands alone rather than unidentified in a group, and it is this one I would place next to Hurvin’s in contrast.

Then, as you turn to the opposite wall, a stark contrast and deep dive into nature, you would see Katie Paterson’s Vatakanjuul image. A crystal blue white photograph of an iceberg, and with it a sound recording, which when you click play you can hear the ice melting, a deep breath ro remind us of our communal impact we are having on our earthly home.

If you turned to the final wall, you would see a door, and on going through it, you would be plunged into a dark space, with two large video works on either side of the room, one is Julianknxx’s Roots for a Crown and the other Hanna Tuulikki’s SING SIGN, from the Showroom space and the National Gallery Scotland space. They both use the human voice to connect, and unravel their respective experiences as a person moving through the world. 

Moving through to an adjacent room, the presence of the body, very deeply felt in Hanna’s voice, would lead us to the work of Auroboros, show in the Sarabande space, where the use biomimicry and tech which allows clothes to digitally grow on the body. The inky blue hues and moving tendrils really reminds me of Lisa Brice’s work, whose respect and dedication of the female form being viewed without the male gaze is palpable in her work, and her use of a very specific blue colour. Both works have such a viscerality about them, from the tendrils in Auroboros, to the blue vein- like colour in Brice’s paintings.

You would then see a photograph from Ibhraim Mahama’s Parliament of Ghosts from the Whitworth, of a close up shot of an arm with BINTU ABRASIPU SEKONDI printed on it, their name and the area this man was working in. Despite only seeing a singular limb of this person, there is a real feeling of intimate connection, and the idea of the singular body as a source of community that reverberates around the whole exhibition.  

Then, in the middle of the next room, I would have Yinka Shonibare’s wind sculpture that you can find in the YSP space, and one of the Chris Burden lamps taken from SLG’s 12 Magnolia Doubles, side by side. Not only do they both have the presence of human figures to me, but they also make you feel small and part of something much bigger than yourself, which comes with being in a community.

In the next room, you would be welcomed by Linder’s, ‘You Search but do Not See’, from Nottingham Contemporary, Jan Svoboda’s ‘Picture that will not return XXXV’ from The Photographers Gallery, Pacita Abad’s ‘Caught at the Border’, hanging from the wall, and lastly Andreas Gursky’s Prada Storefront. The juxtaposition of faces, and stark empty spaces i think would be thought provoking, especially looking at Linder’s only almost-self-portrait of the exhibition against Gursky’s shot of the creamy green empty luxury storefront. 

I love this photograph so much, for it’s lack, but somehow, weirdly enough for it’s connection and community. It reminds me of how during lockdown, I would walk through empty streets with only skateboarders and the only occasional drunk teenager passing me by, and the shops either had their Christmas decorations still up in April or were completely empty. The mannequins bare and the busts without jewels down bond street; this photograph gives me that same weird eerie nostalgia.

And then in a final bow, to Season One of theVOV, we would be led out by the cacophony of voices and music in Tony Cokes’ ‘The Morrisey Problem’, from Goldsmiths CCA, and hopefully some sense of feeling close whilst far apart, and perhaps even some idea of how we can all build a better community together. 

What would your impossible gallery look like? 

You can dream for one final week as all 15 exhibitions on theVOV are live together for one final time. 

Come VOV with us.

with love, from Lottie @theVOV