INDUSTRY: Art Internships

Since starting my fine art degree, I have been on three different art internships. All of these internships have varied from each other, not only in the tasks and roles I have been involved in but also in the nature of the actual organisations themselves.

The Cutting Room, Nottingham Playhouse, Nottingham

(3+ months)

The Cutting Room comprises two graduates from the NTU fine art degree course: Jennifer Ross and Clare Harris. One of the best ways of seeking out opportunities is to utilise the contacts and networks that already exist on your course and at your university. As recent graduates still based in Nottingham, they were offering internships to students particularly on our course. Not only did I benefit from being an intern in a working art organisation but I also gained valuable advice and mentorship from people who had already done what I had.

I did a huge variety of jobs whilst I was there but some of the highlights were looking through exhibition submissions and choosing artists for forthcoming exhibitions, filming and recording interviews for a private view showreel and designing the marketing material that eventually went to print.

The Way Forward (2012) Exhibition Flyer, designed by Vivienne Du

http://internship-thecuttingroom.blogspot.co.uk/

REVIEW: [Dalston House] by Leandro Erlich @ Barbican Centre, London

Dalston House by Leandro Erlich
Barbican Centre
26 June - 4 August 2013

I've always been a fan of interactive and participatory artworks, and London's latest instalment Dalston House was just the type of work I love going to see. Having read about Leandro Erlich's work before, I was intrigued to experience his manipulation of visual and spatial dimensions in the flesh.

What struck me immediately was its nonchalant and honest simplicity. The first thing you see is the huge and imposing mirror, and in effect that is all there is to this illusion: the mirror. However I found myself drawn to the metal scaffolding holding the mirror up. Erlich has purposely allowed the viewer to be able to see the exposed mechanism behind the illusion. Nothing is concealed, there are no smoke and mirrors to the work's production. Every person participating in this work knows more or less how it works, how the illusion transpires ─and still...the magic and curiosity is still very much there. If anything, the pleasure received from the work is even more so somehow when you realise how straightforward it is in its construction.

People are always fascinated by their reflections. Even now when you see someone walk down the street and they catch their reflection in a mirror unexpectedly, they look intrigued or surprised as if seeing themselves for the first time. Seeing one's self allows an unusual, out of body semblance; an awareness of one's body and its ordinary constructs and restrictions in real time and space. Dalston House enables the impossible ─but not in actual physicality, just in the reflected image. Yet this is enough to reverse our rational understanding of our bodies and its capabilities. Participants became acrobats, superheroes, people with gravity defying abilities and contortions. Ironically enough, most viewers were adamantly trying to recreate a realistic portrayal of gravity, dangling upside down for example was popular, or sitting a window ledge from a seeming twenty or so feet off the ground. People were trying to create fantastical scenarios but within the realms of believable physics, as if this makes the illusion even more seductively deceptive. Creating a sub-real reality from the unreal. You get how it works, you see how it works, but you still find yourself staring at your own reflection thinking "I'm dangling upside down from a window ledge." You may know you're lying on the ground but this feels irrelevant when your body becomes the best full scale puppet you've ever had to play with.

PRACTICE: Tactile in Texture

How do you define space?

Often I find this relentlessly perplexing. Space, to me is free, moving and fluctuating around us, it never holds any true form or dimension. I often experiment with the way in which space can be 'divided', how in which our perception of space can be manipulated through creating 'walls' within space.

What is a 'wall' and how can this represent solidness and physicality?

Because of this, I find myself drawn to materials that exist in a uncertain medium between opaqueness and transparency. There is always ambiguity, and I feel that my work should be an enquiry, a tool in which to allow people to question space in the same way. These tactile, moving, sensuous materials often allow me to play with this idea of the divide, of the barrier. Nothing is definite, nothing if finite or as simple as what you physically see. Is there such a thing as a barrier when space is constantly flowing around us. Is this actually a case of a somewhat mental barrier instead?

Reverse of Volume (2012) by Yasuaki Onishi

The Garden Document (2010) by Edith Maybin

Hero (2002) directed by Zhang YiMou

REFERENCE: A Brush with Space

Gregor Schneider

Walking in Contrapposto (1968) by Bruce Nauman

Walking in Contrapposto (1968) by Bruce Nauman

PRACTICE: A Study of Corridors

Anyone who knows me, will know that I am fascinated by corridors, both from an architectural perspective and from a psychological perspective (which is why I often find my favourite examples of corridor shots from film).

Corridors act as a transitional bridge between spaces, their function is to take us from one destination to the next. Very rarely does is a corridor constructed to be a destination in itself. This is why the corridor has often proved to be such a dynamic setting in film. It preludes to a sense of expectation, of something beyond and unknown. I like exploring the idea of the corridor as being the illusion of infinity, of a route that extends so far, we can no longer see its end.

Various Screenshots taken from Film

REVIEW: [Blackout] WEYA @ Nottingham Contemporary, Nottingham

As part of the World Event Young Artists Festival in Nottingham, the majority of art venues and galleries were getting involved in this huge event, with exclusive performances and showcases from a wide variety of artists. Nottingham Contemporary hosted the sensory experience of Blackout, described as "a rare opportunity to explore the potential of our minds. With sensory limitations placed on the artists and audience, cutting edge musicians play anonymously and are never revealed in the pitch black...leaving the crowd to personally explore the sensory interplay between their imagination and the music."

This sounded like a fantastic method of heightening senses, and producing an unusual platform to experience music and visual art. As with any type of artwork of this kind, there is always a trepidation in not knowing what to expect. The programme stated that the artist playing would also remain unknown and therefore there was no way of knowing what to prepare for, what may lie beyond the darkness.

When it came to actually entering the darkened space, ushered in one by one, the intensity of the dark is quite intimidating. I don't think anyone nearly expects darkness that is so pitch black that you literally cannot see your hand in front of your face. I realised that as soon as I entered the room and couldn't see, I was reaching out in front of me for someone, anyone. I felt comforted when I could feel my fingers brush across a complete stranger's back. There's an odd sense of reassurance. The expanse of black seemed so vast, and yet you feel trapped in a bubble, unable to reach anyone else, even though you can hear people around you. I think the most unnerving sensation throughout all of this is the sense of displacement. You cannot locate yourself in relation to anyone else or the space. You have no idea exactly how many people are sharing the space with you, and how close or far away they all are. It is rather disorientating. After a short period, as more and more viewers were entering, you could hear people sitting down, and I felt uneasy about what the appropriate behaviour was in this circumstance. I didn't know whether I was expected to sit, stand, walk, regardless that at this point I was much more comfortable standing still. I found that when I actually decided to sit down,  I felt a sense of relief. The ground seemed to give me a better sense of where I was, where I could sit and slowly move my arms around me. My biggest concern was whether people would bump or step into you unexpectedly, but surprisingly that didn't happen. Perhaps everyone was staying still.

REFERENCE: Traps and Manoeuvres

Often in my influences, film plays a big part in inspiring me in the use of space to create mood and express narrative. In the realm of film, anything is possible in terms of set design.

In this scene from Resident Evil (2002) not only does the space captivate me, but the way in which the characters move within the space. What really strikes me about this scene is how bright it is. Clean, light, nothing to hide. What often tends to happen in film, is that there is a common association between small spaces with tension and this often means dark, uncomfortable, and shadowed sets -making us fear what we can't see. In this instance, the corridor is anything but, it's stark. And it works in the film's favour. The starkness and sterile nature of the scene will make everything  that happens within it more pronounced. In most films, it's what we can't see, what we make for ourselves that is more terrifying. In a daring juxtaposition, it is challenging us to face what the scene is about to present with a candid reality. What is more terrifying is that they want us to see.

 

Resident Evil (2002) directed by Paul W.S. Anderson

One of the other great qualities about this scene is how it dictates the movement of the charcters trapped within it. As these lasers begin to cross through the length of the corridor, the characters have no choice but to evade as best they can to survive. It breaks the already small space into even smaller ones, adding to the claustrophobia and lack of escape that dooms the characters.

It just goes to show that there aren't any rules when using spaces to create a particular atmosphere, it is how you utilise what goes beyond just the space with imagination that make these scenes iconic.