Picnic at Bell-Roberts
by Paul Edmunds
When the editor and I discussed my proposed review of this exhibition, we were concerned about mixed interests - Andrew Lamprecht was busy reviewing my own show at Jo�o Ferreira. The lines are not perfectly parallel though: Lamprecht has curated this show of work by other artists, while I have produced the work on my show. Nevertheless, it demonstrates the pull a curator can exert on an exhibition. Lamprecht has, in his words, "lightly curated" this show, and appropriate this is, given its light summery feel and the gorgeous weather on the day of its opening. Also, this was perhaps the only choice, since the show was compiled at very short notice.
There is no rigorous intellectual rationale underpinning this show (let's leave that for winter), save the concept of 'picnic'. Lamprecht invokes the idea of an informal meal where all guests contribute various items. I would add too, that a picnic is not necessarily planned, and the resulting culinary combinations are not always delightful. The show features work from artists as far apart as Andrew Verster and Michaelis student Mario Toleschini. It is hung with great flair - paintings compete for wall space with sculptures, prints and a video projection.
There is a swagger-in-the-hips in the way eccentrically spaced works are hung at unusual heights. The combination of Usha Seejarim's Backyard Rounds projected small and right at ground level, Luan Nel's Vessel shoved into a corner, and a painting by Sanell Aggenbach hung way up high on the wall, suggests an untested m�lange.
Seejarim's video features a camera cocked to show a front yard viewed from the driveway up the side of a small suburban house. Off-camera someone repeatedly throws a ball down the driveway where it is pursued by two enthusiastic dogs who return it each time. The shorter of the dogs never manages to get the ball but is unflagging in its ebullience. The work quietly muses on the mundane, routine nature of life in the 'burbs, but presents it with touching pathos and not without a tongue-in-a-cheek.
Lamprecht has no fear of painting. Along with a number of other paintings, a large Andrew Verster Curtainhangs opposite two drawing/ paintings by Matthew Hindley. I'm not sure about the latter and feel they are bit 'look-what-I-can-get-away-with', especially for someone so technically competent and capable of such beautiful inconclusive ambiguity.
Nearby Bridget Baker makes towelling much sexier than it was ever meant to be. The three photographs which comprise Stills from the return of SMWW are apparently part of a larger narrative. In the first, the protagonist (presumably Baker herself) is seen in a terrycloth one-piece roller-skating away from the camera on the Seapoint promenade. In the second, a close-up shows her bending away from the camera as she pulls chewing gum from the underside of her skate. On closer inspection, both of her roller-skates are peppered with gum. On the wheels of each are reversed letters which spell 'Only you can �'. In the final photograph we see these words printed on cracked concrete, fading as the sun dries them. To invoke the cooking metaphor, this makes Nigella Lawson positively sterile and is as elusive as boarding school mystery veg.
Old meets new here with no apologies. In the rear of the gallery, we find an old sculpture by Kevin Brand within spitting distance of four bright digital prints by Mario Toleschini, the meeting mediated only by Sean Slemon's wall-mounted aluminium piece. Such combinations have the dual effect of making the older work seem safe and the other immature, although without the contrast I'm not sure I would reach the same conclusion.
Lamprecht has achieved a brave and unusual mix of work. I'm not sure it always works, and feel distinctly that some pieces show up the thinness of others. The show as a whole was, for me, an acquired taste, and while I have grown quite fond of some works, there are still others that gall. Other participants included Dan Halter, Johann van der Schijff, Vuyisa Nyamende, Zen Marie and Cameron Platter.
November 8 - 29
