The seminal Joburg Altarpiece (2009), the undoubted star of this show, functions as the gateway to this latest area of inquiry, the visual manifestation of the thematic transition from political, religious and art historical icons into the realm of the geometric. Continuing the template initiated by Apocalumbilicus (2006), first appearing in 2007’s ‘Apocalagnosia’ exhibition, the eight lino print panels depict a rogue’s gallery of art historical deities (Bernini’s Pluto and Proserpina, Rubens’ Saturn and 'progeny tartare', et al) as they find themselves inscribed and desecrated in an iconoclastic process of skeletonisation.
A recurrence in Botha’s exhibitions is the battle between the fleeting and the eternal; a luta continua, here bought forth in Platonic guise. Notable in Untitled (After Rubens) (2009) is the presence of a tetrahedron alongside the skeletal remains, a fellow survivor of the apocalypse that liberated Proserpina and her ilk of such temporaries as flesh.
As Plato himself asserts:
'Geometry is... pursued for the sake of the knowledge of what eternally exists, and not of what comes for a moment into existence, and then perishes.'
With this in mind, Botha’s Amazing Things from Other Places (2009) is ripe for contemplation. The main focus of the installation is the five sculptures, corresponding to each Platonic solid with a human form of some sort (or in the case of the octahedron, a decidedly avian specimen) spewing forth: escaping or perhaps expelled. Either way, the outcome is predestined. The skull dangling from the dodecahedron serves as a reminder of the inevitable perishing that awaits.
These are all expertly crafted (as one expects of Botha), and are hung mimetic to their classical element associations. Grand in scale, they do a keen job of creating the tension inherent in Botha’s latest staged confrontation; as does the gallery space itself. It is interesting to note that Botha has opted not to alter the lighting for the installation’s space, given that this has been a key aesthetic factor in previous exhibitions such as ‘Apocalagnosia’ and ‘Cold Fusion: gods, heroes and martyrs’ (2005). The white cube gallery lighting bestows on it a surreal, timeless atmosphere that feels somewhat akin to the isolation chambers in the conclusion of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). Perhaps it is a sort of Platonic purgatory.
Within this territory, the visual pun of the visage-as-signifier emerges, whether attested to through the series of portrait busts carved from bolted books (Portrait I-V, all from 2009) or in the very nature of the Platonic solids featured in the sculptures, wherein the name of each figure is derived from its number of faces. The names of the Platonic solids mark a definition of identity within the realm of geometry, just as in the Joburg Altarpiece where 'the component images, sourced from historical paintings and sculptures, are skeletonised and stripped of their original meaning' (press release).
There is much within this exhibition that is eminently capable of impressing. Botha has once again proven himself to be more than up to the task of weaving together an open-ended, yet explicitly structured concept with a high level of craftsmanship; a skill increasingly rare in contemporary art. The utilization of the Platonic solids marks an intelligent and logical next step in the progression of the realization of his concerns. And the Joburg Altarpiece, for the time being at least, surely stands as his magnum opus.
Antagonisms, much like perishing, cannot be overcome, and instead need to be renegotiated. This is the thematic informing Simon Gush’s major debut show, ‘Sidestep’. Gush tests this idea through the construction of scenarios in which an obstacle within a power relationship is subverted rather than surmounted. An interesting result of this is that despite the cohesive underlying thread, the visual aspects of the works seem incongruent. As a result, the exhibition as a whole seems somewhat fragmented. Each work yields its own analogy into the antagonism/renegotiation model, often in opposition to another work’s point of departure. This results in a rather conflicted overarching dialogue that often negates itself.
The exhibition seems at its best when it deals directly with the specific negotiation of hindrance. For instance, one of the most successful realizations of the concept is the video piece In the Company of (2008). Depicting a football match played on a series of train tracks in Belgium by teams primarily made up of immigrants, it proves to be a functional means of conveying navigation around immovable obstacles, whilst simultaneously expressing social commentary both on the quandary of a specific sect (Belgian immigrants) and the dubiousness of purchasing international players for 'European' football teams.
Similarly with Underfoot (Vooruit) (2009): the work is touted as having been inspired by an American basketball team who, due to play on a ballroom in Germany, opted to cover the floor in Coca-Cola to alleviate its slippery nature. Instead, the piece examines the renegotiation of this initial solution by those imposed on by it - the ballroom dancers. As such, the Coca-Cola shifts from tool of traversal to imposed Western (ergo capitalist) signifier.
It is once the works move into this capitalist arena that tensions start to mount and contradictions arise. In Demos (After Felix Gonzalez-Torres) (2009), Gush examines the plight of the average gallery goer who, due to financial circumstances, is generally restricted to the role of passive observer. As the title implies, the work functions as a 'shareware trial' of sorts for those who perpetually leave the gallery space empty-handed. Conflicting with this is Residual Stress (2009), a conditional work explicitly based on the exchange of capital for the dissemination of art and 'art as capital'. All the while, The Wolf’s Theme (2009) ensures that this conceptual equilibrium is accompanied by the implied French horn soundtrack of the Soviet Union’s favorite children’s tale, Sergei Prokofiev's Peter and the Wolf (1936).
Reiterating somewhat this idea of antagonisms in stasis (albeit without the proposition of renegotiation) is the series of eight text-based works featuring occupational catch-22s. Many of these have a definite charm to them, especially that of The Railway Maintenance Workers... (2009), no doubt attributed to its esteemed position as a wall piece rather than the 'plastic stencil' relegation of its associates. The lack of inherent renegotiation within the group, however, isolates them from the inter-work narrative. They serve as hermetic reiterations of the causal half of the thesis without catering to the effect.
Ultimately, playing all sides of the democratic field can be a convenient way to avoid having to propose a stance or voice express criticism toward any one specific aspect. This is perhaps what accounts for the fragmentation of ‘Sidestep’ as a whole; the veritable Pangaea of social, political and industrial viewpoints that are vying for acknowledgement. In a sense, the exhibition is bound in an unstable system of self-antagonism, one that Gush has negotiated by leaving it to exist as is. Much like the Prince Rupert’s drop of Residual Stress (2009), it could shatter at any moment.
Tim Leibbrandt is a fourth year student at Michaelis
