A table or a hand: on the progressive hospitality within Snæbjörnsdóttir/Wilson’s Vanishing Point: where species meet

A table or a hand: on the progressive hospitality within Snæbjörnsdóttir/Wilson’s Vanishing Point: where species meet

by | Miðvikudagur.08.2019 | artzine in english

A table or a hand: on the progressive hospitality within Snæbjörnsdóttir/Wilson’s Vanishing Point: where species meet

A wooden bespoke table grounds itself by the River Gota. A seabird soars above it, and clouds are scattered across the otherwise blue sky. These early views of Snæbjörnsdóttir/Wilson’s Vanishing Point: where species meet act not only as an introduction, but an invitation; a gesture of welcome into their performance. Originally commissioned for the 2011 Gothenburg Biennial curated by Sarat Maharaj, this three-channel video is currently suspended above the altar in Edinburgh’s iconic St Mary’s Cathedral as part of the 2019 Edinburgh Art Festival.

I entered St Mary’s in the middle of a heatwave and immediately sought refuge in a seat at the front pew. I fell into the serenity and silence of the space, and basked in the cool shade as I witnessed the meal unfold. Pieces of bread were tossed from one end of the table towards the circular divot in the other, prompting the seagulls to flock towards their appetizer. A generous pat of butter slowly melts in a hot skillet, and a piece of fish is dropped in and it sizzles. In the Cathedral, the strong sun shines through three enormous stained glass windows at the top of the alter, echoing the three screens in front of them which hold Snæbjörnsdóttir/Wilson’s work in a way that proves that it’s resting in its rightful (albeit, temporary) home. I cannot help but associate this alternative rule of thirds that rings so prominently throughout my time with this piece and in this place: the video screens mimicking the stained glass (or vice-versa), the Holy Trinity, breakfast, lunch and dinner, a three course meal – I could go on.

The title, Vanishing Point, stresses the importance of the action itself over the location of it. Though this work was originally made as a site-specific piece, filmed on the roof of Roda Sten (the main Biennial building in Gothenburg), I believe the heart of this work exists in the convergence between species, and emphasises the importance of the willingness to share, and of unconditional and unwavering hospitality. In light of the current political climate in the UK (and globally, for that matter), this reminder of unity could not (re)surface at a better time. Sitting with this piece a bit longer, I fall into a trance of the birds calling one another, which within this sacred setting, feels like nature’s orchestra. They ring through the Cathedral in a similar way that the organ would draw the congregation in for Sunday morning service. My eyes are glued to the screens, and I find myself creeping up closer and closer to get a better view. There’s something so curious that happens with my perception of scale as I’m drawn in. The large screens suddenly feel slightly small only in comparison to the grandeur of the space that’s hosting them, but the images on the screen – the sky, the sea – span much larger than any architectural masterpiece ever could. My concentration was broken for a moment by a tourist who clearly missed the (vanishing) point of having this work installed within this context, as they exclaimed to their partner that the work was ruining the ambiance of the Cathedral and walked off. Their comment in turn broke the solemnity of the crowd viewing the piece. I shared a small smirk in solidarity with another visitor, and we went back to watching the morsels of bread fly across the screens.

The video continues, and my eyes remain fixated on this table. More so than any other piece of domestic furniture, I understand a table to have the function of hosting. A table is where we know to gather; it’s a meeting place. This basic form exists in many iterations and serves various functions within these roles, but inevitably, its purpose is to hold and support simultaneously. There even exists a strong presence of tables throughout art history – from Erwin Wurm’s altered furniture sculptures, to Robert Therrien’s Under the Table (1994)[1], to being a support or background within countless still life paintings, to being the central gathering place in DaVinci’s infamous The Last Supper (1495-96), which particularly resonates with Snæbjönsdottir/Wilson’s piece in this current installation. Most prominent in my mind, however, is Allora & Calzadilla’s Under Discussion (2005), in which we witness Calzadilla perform some sort of erratic act of engineering by upturning a table, attaching a motor, and turning it into a boat. The video captures this makeshift boat being used to survey the area of Vieques, which is an island-municipality of Puerto Rico that the US Navy had occupied and used as a bomb-testing site for over sixty years. This action offers a place to have a conversation that is often only ever had behind closed doors, prompting questions of information and access[2]. The table acts as a silent but active participant within this radical socio-political statement, which is similar to how I perceive the role of the table in Vanishing Point. Snæbjörnsdóttir/Wilson’s construction is situated in a way that gestures an open invitation, it’s nearly anthropomorphic in its way of being – acting much like a hand reaching out to greet or assist us. This wooden table was undoubtedly built with intention, with a “bowl” of sorts carved out of one end to hold and serve the meal to Snæbjörnsdóttir/Wilson’s winged guests. The intimate structure of a table enables the actions of gathering and support, and the proximity that we often allow them to have between ourselves, our actions, and others is perhaps why it seems to be the most hospitable piece of domestic furniture. Céline Condorelli speaks of her perception of intimacy garnered through proximity in an particularly resonant way within Support Structures, as she sheds light on the “violence” of support: that how being supportive implies more than mere contact, but furthermore being right up against the subject of concern. She states that to work in support means to emphasise the need for it.[3] Perhaps the table acts as more than just a literal support structure in this setting.

As I take in the piece in its entirety, I begin to see it very much as a daisy chain of shifting hospitality. Snæbjörnsdóttir/Wilson are preparing the meal, but are fundamentally guests or visitors in the environment of the seabirds, but the seabirds nevertheless accept the invitation to break bread within their natural space. That said, perhaps the seabirds were also considered (unwelcomed) guests within Roda Sten, where they are notorious for brazenly joining in on visitors’ meals at the waterfront al fresco cafés in the area. In the exhibition catalogue for FEAST: Radical Hospitality in Contemporary Art, Jan Verwoert’s contributing essay[4] speaks of “the artist’s guest”. Perhaps this is referring predominantly to visitors in a gallery, but this particular work sheds a new light on this when considering host and guest dynamics within Vanishing Point. Within this particular installation, where they have been graciously invited by the Provost of St Mary’s to exhibit this work in the Cathedral, the invitation alone carries strong connotations of hospitality in and of itself; they’re guests in these spaces, but hosts through their objects and actions. Verwoert also speaks about the labour of constant care, as well as the invisible labour of the host.[5] Conventional notions of hospitality lead me to consider if hosting in general is a performance. If so, is the table merely a prop? And are guests the performers? Upon reflecting on Verwoert’s words, I came to realise that Vanishing Point is not solely about hospitality, but more so community, as the labour was never hidden.

The work comes to a close by placing the viewers in the perspective of being seated at the table to share in the meal as guests. The politics of equality and inclusion are truly challenged in this piece as it breaks down the preconceived differences between species, and highlights something that we all fundamentally need at our cores. It’s a reminder that everything and everyone requires nourishment to survive whether we seek it ourselves or its offered to us. Perhaps upon first look, some may find it strange to host a meal for seabirds, but how is it fundamentally that different from a conventional dinner party? We are all simultaneously hosts and guests to this Earth, and Vanishing Point instills in me that we are all connected – as much as humanity has often chosen to believe otherwise. I’m also reminded of the urgency of sharing rather than taking. With this meal, Snæbjörnsdóttir/Wilson choose to build bridges instead of walls – breaking down barriers and proving that generosity truly can be unconditional.

Juliane Foronda

 

 

[1] A similar, and often mistaken work of Therrien’s Under the Table is No Title (Table and Four Chairs), 2003

[2] “Under Discussion.” DMA Collection Online, collections.dma.org/artwork/5329404.

[3] “Directions for Use (Features: Proximity).” Support Structures, by Condorelli Céline et al., Sternberg Press, 2014, p. 15.

[4] Verwoert, Jan. “The Anti-Angelic Host: Reading the Politics of Hosting Culture Through the Writing of Virginia Woolf.” Feast. Radical Hospitality in Contemporary Art, David & Alfred Smart Museum, 2013, pp. 360–366.

[5] Verwoert, Jan. “The Anti-Angelic Host: Reading the Politics of Hosting Culture Through the Writing of Virginia Woolf.” Feast. Radical Hospitality in Contemporary Art, David & Alfred Smart Museum, 2013, pp. 360–361.

 

Vanishing Point: where species meet continues through 25 August as part of the 2019 Edinburgh Art Festival. Please note that St Mary’s Cathedral is an active place of worship and this means that at times the sound component of Vanishing point may temporarily be muted. A reception featuring an artists’ talk and discussion event will take place at St Mary’s Cathedral from 4:00-6:00 pm on Saturday 10th August, 2019 and all are welcome.

For the last twenty years, artists Snæbjörnsdóttir/Wilson, have been practicing and producing in the field of contemporary art on an international stage, with projects and exhibitions in the UK, Europe, Australia, and the USA. Through their work they ask what it means in the context of crisis, (e.g. mass extinction and the Anthropocene), to consider and practice art as a tool of disruption and mediation, how the semblance of passivity might subversively be channeled as an instrument of change and how complex, cross-disciplinary relationships can effectively and otherwise, be managed.

Bryndís Snæbjörnsdóttir (PhD) is Professor and MA programme director at the Iceland University of the Arts, and Mark Wilson (PhD) is Professor in Fine Art and Course leader in MA Contemporary Fine Art at the University of Cumbria, Institute of the Arts, UK. They live and work in Iceland and the UK.

https://snaebjornsdottirwilson.com/

 

Photo credits: Bryndís Snæbjörnsdóttir/Mark Wilson.

On community, colour, and collaboration: an afternoon with Cobolt Collective.

On community, colour, and collaboration: an afternoon with Cobolt Collective.

by | Sunnudagur.06.2019 | artzine in english

On community, colour, and collaboration: an afternoon with Cobolt Collective.

I look up at the same sky as everyone else.

These words were so thoughtfully strung along Cobolt Collective’s most recent mural which immediately caught my eye. Bright pops of coral, ultramarine, scarlet and teal stretched throughout a collage of illustrations that took me right back to my childhood summers at the Jersey Shore. The vibrant palette eventually managed to fall secondary to this phrase, and I was taken aback by how it resonated much stronger with me than my immediate feelings of nostalgia for the sun-bleached east coast that inspired this particular project.

In many ways this mural sums up what I understand Glasgow’s newest (and only) all-woman street art collective to be – vibrant, layered, bold, precise, thoughtful, yet also warm and carefree. Comprised of Chelsea Frew, Edda Karólína Ævarsdóttir, Erin Bradley-Scott, and Kat Loudon, Cobolt Collective was conceived in 2018 through their desire for more inclusivity and gender balance within the street art community. These four women epitomise collectivity at its core. As graphic designers, sign painters, illustrators, freelancers and business owners, they themselves bring a fusion of skills, interests and backgrounds to this sisterhood. Their collective practice differs from the mainstream street art scene as they root themselves in research. They take their time, building up layers of ideas, concepts and colour, to produce intricate levels of meaning in a single mural. Running various public workshops alongside to their street art practice, their aim is to educate and empower other women to take up space. In many ways, their processes echo their message – complexities that need attention and time to evolve and unravel. With their colour palette acting as sensory triggers, along with the merging of four complimentary yet distinct visual styles, and a seemingly effortless collective confidence, they ultimately encompass the force that is Cobolt Collective.

The immediate associations with their murals, for me, were obvious – the iconic heroines from the 1970’s feminist art movement such as Barbara Kruger, Jenny Holzer and the Guerilla Girls who challenged systematic barriers in bold, inspired and public ways. Their (often) text-based, public and powerful works paved the way for women today to have a voice. It’s important to acknowledge the labour of all of those who so boldly stood up for women’s rights, and I find it imperative for feminists today to continue to actively make space when there seems to be none. Cobolt Collective is carrying on the tradition of strong women making strong work, but I find their softer energy and approach of making so refreshing. It’s important to be reminded of the strength it takes to remain soft and positive in a world where there’s an abundance of (sometimes unnecessary) force where one can often be left feeling like only the loudest voices are heard.

Roxane Gay (re)defines feminism so brazenly, and in a way that I have often felt but have never been able to articulate as eloquently within the pages of Bad Feminist. She states that feminism is complex and evolving and flawed, and that it often seems to be held at an impossible standard, as we sometimes forget that this movement is run by humans who are themselves inherently flawed. Gay carries on and says that because feminism is about choice, then as a feminist, it is her responsibility to fight for the rights and decisions of all women even if their choices are not the ones that she would make herself, and even if those women choose to not be feminists.[i] Change does not happen instantly – it’s complicated, constant, strenuous and often leaves us feeling raw. Feminism should never stray too far from humanity, and I hope that there’s space for us as a society to redefine the conventional notion of strength, and to practice love as an action.

Highly celebrated women such as Tracey Emin, Malala Yousafzai, Greta Gaard, and Margaret Atwood, to name a few, continuously employ language – carefully chosen (s)words that permeate us and help shed light on the realities of women within the current cultural climate. Feminism is not a single voice, but many voices, and it’s important to not lose sight of the urgency to support and celebrate the women in our personal lives – the “everyday women” – our mothers and mother figures, partners, wives, sisters, teachers and friends – whose platform may not be as public, but who deserve just as much of our time and space. I’d like to think that Cobolt Collective’s work contributes to this ongoing sisterhood of everyday thinkers, makers and doers who are occupying public space and are asking not just for change, but systematic change. Feminism has only gotten more complicated over the years, but occupying public space in any capacity proves time and time again to have merit and purpose. Art in public spaces can often build an intimate relationship with its viewers. It integrates more seamlessly into our daily lives and allows for more time for reflection and resonance. I could imagine countless lines from my conversation with these four women plastered in a Guerilla Girls pamphlet, on a Jenny Holzer condom wrapper or stamp, or as one of Tracey Emin’s neon signs.

As we sipped on our coffees, they began to unpack the local lineage of strong feminist activism that exists in Glasgow. Mary Barbour, for example led 20,000 women through the Glasgow Rent Strikes to protest against the irrational rent increase in Govan in 1915. Her tenacity protected thousands of tenants from being displaced from their homes. Barbour later went on to be Govan’s first woman councilor.[ii] They also told me about the Glasgow Girls – a group of young women from Drumchappel High School who fought against the Immigration Service raids that had detained their Belarusian classmate and her family, who were seeking asylum in the UK. Cobolt continued to lay out countless social justice issues that impacted the lives of the locals, but that were tackled with such force and integrity. They made it sound so simple, even though I could feel the energy and emotion in their voices as we continued on. This strength spans decades and finds itself manifesting in various iterations due to the seeming inherent mindset for Glaswegians to simply, as Erin said, “not put up with shit that isn’t fair”. Glasgow is a city that epitomizes what it means to be a part of a community and is made up of people who choose to make their neighbours’ problems their responsibility.

The collective, like their mural’s phrase, tries to keep it simple though they are far from simple-minded. Cobolt chooses to take a positive approach when challenging complex socio-political concerns, teaching by example in order to inspire positive change. Someone will always have an opinion, as they so acutely pointed out, and though systematic barriers like sexism and mansplaining are still issues they face as minorities in their field, their positive approach has garnered highly positive feedback both from within and beyond their communities. Now being more in the public eye, they’re aware of their response-ability with this platform and it seems to only push these women to band together and be more ambitious, crediting their force and confidence to each other – which to me, encapsulates sisterhood in its entirety. It’s an honour to be able to witness Cobolt slowly unravel into their own. As their mural’s phrase sinks into my mind a bit deeper, I’m reminded of Yoko Ono’s infamous words about how the sky is always there for her, and that when she looks up at the sky it’s like she’s looking at an old friend.[iii] That familiarity. I begin to extend my thoughts onto the importance of community, the feeling of inclusion, and our need for connection in both intimate and public ways. I revisited these feelings through this mural the same way as when I’ve allowed my eyes to rest by watching the clouds passing or the stars shining – linking the scale of the mural and the scale of our sky; the feeling of being so big (empowered) yet so small (belonging). Simultaneously. Perhaps as much as we’re constantly (re)learning about the problems and possibilities of our surroundings, the necessity for introspection and to simply look up is just as important.

Juliane Foronda

 

[i] Gay, Roxane. Bad Feminist: Essays. London: Corsair, 2014, Introduction: pages x-xii.

[ii] Burness, Catriona. „Mary Barbour: Background.“ In Mrs. Barbour’s Daughters, 55-60.

[iii] This Yoko Ono quote that I’m referring to reads: “The sky is always there for me, while my life has been going through many, many changes. When I look up the sky, it gives me a nice feeling, like looking at an old friend.” The date and origin of this exact quote is unknown, but a similar one exists in her Sky Piece I in Acorn.

Writer’s note: I would like to acknowledge that the limitations of language can often effect the ability to describe the full spectrum of gender identities and specificities (especially in texts like these), but I’d like to clarify that when I refer to “woman/women”, that I am inclusive of any person who identifies with this gender on the scale, including but not limited to trans and intersex women, non-binary, and gender fluid individuals. 

Photo credits: courtesy of Cobolt Collective and Sweeneypix

Cobolt is a mural collective of four designers – Erin Bradley-Scott, Chelsea Frew, Kat Loudon and Edda Karólína. Aware of the unequal balance of male to female mural artists in Glasgow and across the UK, they decided to start their own collective in the hopes of influencing more women to get involved in large scale mural projects. Despite the fact that women take up 50% of the population and 70% – 80% of art students are female, almost all of the large scale murals in Glasgow are done by a small group of male artists. They decided to form this collective to offer an alternative to the gender imbalance within Glasgow’s mural scene. Cobolt is currently working on numerous murals in collaboration with local and national organizations such as Urban Roots, Barclays Bank, and the University of Glasgow.

www.instagram.com/coboltcollective/

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