'Aquatopia: The Imaginary Of The Ocean Deep' At Nottingham Contemporary

Nottingham Contemporary

I spent another weekend in Nottingham at a bit of a loose end recently, so took the opportunity to visit the exhibition, ‘Aquatopia: The Imaginary Of The Ocean Deep’, at Nottingham Contemporary.  Completed, (at some cost), just before the money finally ran out, The Contemporary is a definite plus point in a city with already quite a lot to offer culturally.  My own town of Leicester may have attempted to catch up in the last few years but, sadly, still has nothing to rival that facility where visual art is concerned.  Luckily, it’s only a short hop by road or rail between the two cities.

Nottingham Contemporary From The Rear, Lower Ground Level

Nottingham Contemporary, Lace Pattern Detail

If not exactly beautiful, the Contemporary building is a striking addition to the fabric of Nottingham and well positioned between the main shopping centre and the atmospheric old Lace Market quarter.  There are various bars, cafes and restaurants nearby and it feels like a part of town where one might happily hang out in off duty moments.  Architecturally, it exhibits a minimalism familiar in such institutions but tempers excessive rigour with fluted facades, sage green and gold colouration, and subtle surface detail relating to Nottingham’s lace-making heritage.  Under favourable lighting conditions its surfaces emit a pleasing pale golden glow.  It also cascades pleasingly down the sandstone cliff on which it is positioned, with a stylish but comfortable café-bar spilling out onto a terrace two stories below the entrance level.  Inside, the galleries are spacious, (although I wish they could have capitalised on daylight rather more).  I even like The Contemporary’s retro logo/signage.

Nottingham Contemporary, Rear View With Cafe Terrace

I won’t pretend the ‘Aquatopia’ show is exactly life changing, but it did provide a pleasant enough diversion for an hour.  It follows a fashionable current template by curating mismatched items representing various periods, cultures and media around a common theme, (in this case, The Sea).  These included items of design and industrial manufacture as well as what is perhaps still called Fine Art.  For me, it was nowhere near as inspiring as ‘Metropolis’ in Birmingham earlier this year but this may be in part because that mixed show tapped directly into several of my own concerns.  I was also somewhat underwhelmed by the audio-visual work in Nottingham, whereas at ‘Metropolis’ I had been pleasantly surprised by much of it.

Nottingham Contemporary From The Rear, Upper Street Level

Perhaps my biggest reservation about ‘Aquatopia’ is that it only provides glimpses of anything approaching a truly immersive experience.  It’s more like inspecting a cabinet of salty curiosities than being sensually, (or emotionally), engaged by the actual fluid immensity of the ocean.  That approach does allow a number of tangential and potentially interesting sub-themes to emerge, however.  Anyway, the exhibition isn’t devoid of highlights so, rather than focusing on what it doesn’t do, here are a few items that did catch my attention:

Gustave Dore, 'Illustrations To 'The Rhyme Of The Ancient Mariner' By
Samuel Taylor Coleridge', Wood Engravings, 1876

Gustave Doré, ‘Illustrations to ‘The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner’ by Samuel Taylor Coleridge’, Wood Engravings, 1876:  I loved these in reproduction from an early age so it was a real pleasure to see eight of them for real.  Doré’s meticulous engravings are full of dark, gothic atmosphere, pleasing formality and memorable imagery.  His small storm-tossed vessel, dwarfed by looming waterspouts, captivated me especially.

Wolfgang Tillmans, 'Astro Crust A', Photographic Ink Jet Print, 2012

WolfgangTillmans, ‘Astro Crust A’, Photographic Ink Jet Print, 2012:  Tillmans’ large photographic image zooms in close on the crustaceous architecture of a broken cooked lobster.  Any enjoyment of the sensuous colour and craggy detail is subverted by the present of a sinister, black fly grazing on the flesh.  It transforms the image into something queasily alien and reminds us of the flyblown decay often prevalent at the sea’s margins.

Ashley Bickerton, 'Orange Shark', Polyurethane, Nylon, Cotton Webbing, Stainless Steel, Scope
Distilled Water, Coconuts & Rope, 2008

Ashley Bickerton, ‘Orange Shark’, Polyurethane, Nylon, Cotton Webbing, Stainless Steel, Scope, Distilled Water, Coconuts, Rope, 2008:  For more than one reason, sharks became something of a signifier for contemporary art around the start of the century.  Bickerton’s suspended Hammerhead has a cheerful, ironic appeal being cast in transparent purple plastic and clad in its vaguely fetishistic orange nylon jacket.  Such knowing references to the processes of industrial design are very typical of his work.  The coconuts and bottles of distilled water suspended surreally beneath it, and the general materials employed, seem to evoke certain ideas about buoyancy.

Edward Wadsworth, 'Regalia', Egg Tempera & Oil On Gessoed Canvas On Board, 1928

Edward Wadsworth, 'The Beached Margin', Tempera On Gessoed Canvas On Wood, 1937

Edward Wadsworth, ‘Regalia’, Egg Tempera & Oil On Gessoed Canvas On Board, 1928. And: ‘The Beached Margin’, Tempera On Canvas On Wood, 1937:  Although separated by nine years, both of these paintings demonstrate Wadsworth’s clear-eyed and illustrative, formal precision.  Like the self-conscious modernist he was, Wadsworth created highly artificial, nautically themed arrangements of objects in which the mechanical takes precedence over the natural.  Whilst ‘Regalia’ follows the still-life model, ‘The Beached Margin’ depicts a fictitious, sculptural beach installation including a starfish and forms resembling technical instruments.  Both are suffused with clear coastal illumination and convey a particular air of marine Surrealism.

Karl Weschke, 'Caliban', Oil On Canvas, 1974

Karl Weschke, ‘Caliban’, Oil On Canvas, 1974:  I’ve written before about my enthusiasm for Weschke’s work and his intense, Germanic take on the Cornish Coastline.  When, as a student, I met him years ago, he spoke with an impressive intensity about the destructive power of the sea that seemed a world away from the politer, more formal concerns of the other 20th Century St. Ives School painters.  This dark canvas, (which appears much lighter in reproduction,) represents his existential interest in solitary, prone figures adrift in the water or washed up on the beach.

Miller Dunn Co., Miami, Florida,  'U.S. Navy Standard Diving
Hood, Style 2', Brass & Glass, 1851, (Similar Example).

Miller Dunn Co., Miami, Florida, ‘U.S. Navy Standard Diving Hood, Style 2,’ Brass & Glass, 1851:  Although clearly a manufactured utilitarian object, this robotic brass helmet works just as well as a readymade Art object with somewhat sinister overtones.  It’s impossible not to identify with the original wearer, and the sense of claustrophobic enclosure and vulnerability within a foreign element that they must have felt on the seabed, radiates from it palpably.

J.M.W. Turner, 'Sunrise With Sea Monsters', Oil On Canvas, 1945

J.M.W. Turner, ‘Sunrise With Sea Monsters’, Oil On Canvas, 1845:  I guess, for some, this is the biggest draw in the show, given Turner’s status as a superstar of British art with mass appeal.  It’s possible to get distracted by all that and overlook just how radical a painter he was, certainly by the conventions of his time.  This is one of those typical Turner seascapes in which the nominal, (and in this case, frankly ludicrous), subject is subsumed within a nebulous world of liquid, vapour and light.  The horizon dissolves and those sketchy, nominal monstrosities become effectively irrelevant as he pulls off the stunt of transforming coloured paste into pure atmosphere once again.  Actually, although not huge, this one is pretty immersive.

'Turps Banana, Issue 13':  Pleasingly, Still Solvent

On my way out of the Contemporary I picked up a copy of the twice-yearly painting magazine, ‘Turps Banana’.  I don’t consume many art magazines but do enjoy this one, (when I find it), for being written for painters by painters and also for its total lack of advertisements.  Coincidentally, after viewing Karl Weschke’s painting, I received another reminder of my student days.  The magazine included a conversation between big-name painter Albert Irvin and Stewart Geddes – a contemporary of mine on the Fine Art course at Bristol Polytechnic in the early 80s, (at least, I'm assuming it's the same guy).  I remember Stewart as being very serious about his painting but also really entertaining company, (and especially hospitable, one particular Christmas).  It’s good to know he’s still painting and moving in pretty exalted artistic circles.

Mark Gubb, 'Nottingham Contemporary Corporate Ident.'

You can still just catch ‘Aquatopia: The Imaginary Of The Ocean Deep’, Until 22 September 2013, At Nottingham Contemporary, Weekday Cross, Nottingham, NG1 2GB

Lost At Sea: Gerhard Richter's Seascape

I’ve been quite prolix in some of my recent posts so here’s an attempt to be more concise.  I want to discuss some more of the pictures from Gerhard Richter’s recent ‘Panorama’ Exhibition at Tate Modern but will attempt that in a series of shorter posts rather than one long piece.  Here’s the first.

Gerhard Richter, 'Seascape [Cloudy]', 1969

‘Seascape [Cloudy]’ is one of a series of seascapes that Richter has painted since the late 1960s.  Many share the same square format and generous dimensions, (this one being 200cm X 200cm), and most employ a similar photorealist style with little of the blurring or unfocussing techniques sometimes applied to his photo-derived images.  This picture had an immediate effect on me in the ‘Panorama’ show.  It was not so much for intellectual or technical reasons but rather an emotional response to the hostile, profundity of Richter’s depiction of choppy sea and squally sky.  The thickly clotted cloud, chill, greyed palette and racing waves evoke a bleakly Northern European vision.  For me, this is unmistakably the North Sea.

Caspar David Friedrich, 'Moonrise by the Sea', 1821

Richter has declared a connection with the work of the German Romantic painter - Caspar David Friedrich and there are clear links here with his seascapes and lonely figures overwhelmed by that aesthetic quality of nature known as The Sublime.  Closer examination reveals a strangely precise division at the horizon of Richter's image.  In fact, his seascapes all comprise mismatched sea and sky combinations and this is just the subtlest, most unified instance of that strategy.  Whilst espousing a deeply Romantic mode of Germanic painting, Richter also questions its spiritual credentials by demonstrating how artificially and arbitrarily The Sublime can be constructed in the studio.

Karl Weschke, 'Body in the Atlantic Sea', 1982-1984

Another notable quality of ‘Seascape [Cloudy]’ is that of existential isolation.  The empty sea running to its bottom edge gives no possibility of anything solid beneath our feet, leaving us seemingly lost at sea.  It reminds me of my visit as a student to the exposed West Cornwall studio of another German artist - Karl Weschke and of seeing his painting of a figure floating in an expanse of empty ocean.  Weschke – a volunteer coastguard radio operator, described with passion the experience of calling a Rescue Helicopter home after a futile search for a lost sailor.  It made a powerful impression on me then and still does today.