The Estonian artist combines glistening ceramics and intricate fabrics into shocking tableaux. The first installation here features a wall of arms and hands, surrounded by climbing grips. It’s like a bouldering centre run by an eccentric artist. The work implies that a degree of physical effort – the climbing – can lead to a new version of you.
In the next installation, ceramic crows pick bodies up from a rock garden: a bride, a baby, a workman, all stolen from this grey hell and whisked up into the sky. The room is dark, cold, and a little overwhelming, like a post-apocalyptic landscape that these people are lucky to be saved from.
The final installation is the best of the lot: rainbow figures dive into a rancid hot tub of bubbling brown water, watched over by some enormous vaginal ceramic god, surrounded by grabbing hands. The installation feels like a psychedelic moment of rebirth, or maybe just actual birth.
To an extent, ceramics are the most over-played material in contemporary art right now, and if I never have to see another artist making wobbly figures out of them it’ll be too soon. But Lemsalu’s wacky, kaleidoscopic, surreal approach to them seems to work.
What courses through this show’s landscape is a sense of change – of life’s big moments as opportunities for growth, renewal and evolution. It’s your chance to get as lost in this magical universe as Lemsalu seems to be, your opportunity to feel the power of change. So much art is about exploring the nitty-gritty of everyday life that it’s nice to let your eyes and mind take a break every once in a while."
Idea from this exhibition was to think outside the box does the work exhibited have to be displayed on walls or could the exhibition break tradition and be displayed on the floor or ceiling. The branding could be based on this unique quality.
3. Artist Rooms: Jenny Holzer
There’s nothing more revoltingly pointless than an inspirational quote. The kind of thing your aunt posts on Facebook: ‘Life’s not about the destination, it’s about figuring out how to use the touchscreen ticket machine at the station’ or some nonsense, slapped on a picture of a tranquil beach or a weeping kitten. American artist Jenny Holzer’s work is decades’ worth of statements, aphorisms, quotes and poetry. She takes words and sentences and plasters them over the streets, prints them on cups and condoms, engraves them into marble, and sends them stuttering at light speed along LED columns.
Stood here surrounded by words in this small new display, what strikes you is both the power and powerlessness of language. The first room is covered in collected statements, things like ‘the land belongs to no one’, ‘women love power’, ‘you should study as much as possible’. They’re sentences presented and said as truth, advice, things to live your life by. But they contradict each other, cancel each other out. Some implore peace, others call for violence. You end up nodding at the ones that resonate, shaking your head at the rest. For you, those specific words work, for someone else they won’t. Then you worry that just maybe none of it means anything.
The only works that feel firm in their definition are the ones based on testimony from the Iraq War; here, lived experiences usurp interpretation.
But everything else – the LEDs, the marble benches, the plaques – just makes you query everything you read. Holzer’s verbose art leaves your head full of question marks – that’s what makes it so good.
Idea from this exhibition relates more to interpretation and how peoples opinions differ this could be another approach to the visuals and typography the vertical column layout is unique.
4. Good Grief, Charlie Brown!
Anxiety, despair, dread, depression, fear, misery, alienation: a pretty standard Friday night, but an unusual recipe for a kids’ comic strip. ‘Peanuts’ is special, though. Over his tens of thousands of strips – syndicated the world over and read by millions of adoring fans – Charles M Schulz combined simple line drawings and emotional non-sequiturs into little bundles of pure, heart-wrenching modern truth.
This show, looking at the history of ‘Peanuts’ and the art it inspired, starts with the development of Charlie Brown and Snoopy, based on Schulz himself and his childhood dog Spike. From the start, Schulz’s characters are forlorn, sad little things – always downtrodden, always caught on the worst possible day, but always with a bit of hope in their hearts. Then along comes Lucy, Woodstock and the gang and you start to see the birth of the world’s most popular comic strip. It’s almost shocking to be confronted with the emotional vulnerability of ‘Peanuts’ on such a scale. Charlie Brown is a loser, a sad sack. His mouth is a shaky line that seems moments away from quivering with sorrow. So raw, so vulnerable. Snoopy is a gentle, necessary foil, Lucy is a hotheaded mess, Linus is a needy wreck. It’s all too real for me, an overtired slightly hungover 33-year-old. How the hell do kids hack this?
But that’s the point. Schulz made the emotional vulnerability that we all feel acceptable. These original panels are so honest and close to the bone that you want to reach out and hug them. And he doesn’t just stop at the heart, he goes for the head too. He tackles war, philosophy and lets his gaggle of strong, fierce girls voice the power and necessity of feminism.
His black lines and endlessly repeating panels had a huge influence on culture, and upstairs is a brilliant collection of ‘Peanuts’-inspired art and memorabilia. The Snoopy-emblazoned army and navy jackets are fascinating, but it’s the works of contemporary artists riffing on ‘Peanuts’ that are really good. Ryan Gander finds a stark meditation on time in Schulz’s work, Andy Holden explores its impact more academically, Fiona Banner turns it into a song of mourning, Ken Kagami repeats and twists Schulz’s forms. His impact is incredible.
What’s really amazing, though, is that with just a few ultra-simple lines and choice words, Schulz created something iconic; something that offered a window into the weaknesses, vulnerabilities and emotions of living. What he exposed feels so pertinent now, so important and – more than anything – completely and utterly human. Thank you, Charles M Schulz.
Idea from this exhibition would be to identify the target audience and find a common theme that relates to them however this may be difficult to refine. Alternatively the exhibition could be branded upon what feeling designs or artwork invoke.
INITIAL IDEAS
- Incorporate Leeds culture whether it's buildings, artwork, places to brand the exhibition focusing on one of the culturally driven University values.
- Think outside the box does the work exhibited have to be displayed on walls or could the exhibition break tradition and be displayed on the floor or ceiling. The branding could be based on this unique quality.