The Edges of the World.

I visited the Ernesto Neto exhibition, The Edges of the World, at the Hayward last month and found it very interesting.  The immediate room contained a large red structure meant to symbolise a heart. Inside the heart there was a large drum and a suspended drum stick with which to create the heart beat. As you can imagine, this space was frequented by little children intent on creating the loudest bang possible!

A print called Two Hearts and One Body taken from Neto's computer-rendered drawings of the exhibition.

Further on in the exhibition you reach an area which can only be described as a large nylon membrane. There is an area to sit down in (shoes off), a walk-through in which the nylon gradually changes colour from reds and oranges into blues and purples, several look-out posts where you can poke your head through and see above the membrane, and a very green area where you take your shoes off and walk around on top of the nylon.

Pockets filled with herbs, large stalactite-like strucutres filled with stones, and cuff-like holes in the membrane walls add another dimension to what could be a very minimalist use of space. There are also platforms where you can peep above the structure (see photo below) and view the empty void. A very random feature was the outdoor paddling pool and outdoor changing rooms - totally empty on my visit. People were wandering into the changing rooms as if they were part of the exhibition, which was quite amusing!

Charles Darwent, reviewing the exhibition for the Independent, made a poignant remark:

"It's quite an artwork that can provoke a crisis of identity in a grizzled old critic like me, but that's definitely what is going on here. The question is: which Teletubby am I? The little red one with the circle on its head or the purple one with the handbag?"

Honestly, although I tried, I didn't find any part of Neto's installation very interesting or personally enlightening. It felt like I was walking around in a glorified children's playground, trying desperately to find something profound among the teletubby landscape. Vaguely fun teletubby landscape!


Here is a YouTube video from the Southbank Centre interviewing Neto:

Is this really art? I think the jury remains out on that one.

The Gathering by Anne Enright

I wasn't particularly attached to the plot of the novel, nor was I intrigued by the Irish familial context and Irish history addressed by Enright. I'm not interested in family dysfunction and I couldn't care less for the wellbeing of the characters.

What caught my attention and kept me transfixed throughout the literary journey was the emotion. The emotion of the separate characters sticks to the words of the author like feathers to tar. I felt compelled to keep reading - I couldn't jump ship halfway through because I felt that I needed to release the emotion to be truly rid of the narrative. I met my need for catharsis by dutifully reading to the end.

The Guardian reviewed the novel and summarises the plot well:

The plot, shaped around a protagonist who undergoes a shock, is knocked back physically and psychologically into past times and past places. Then comes the conclusion, where present and future are reformed in the light of histories that are suddenly newly perceived. Here Veronica Hegarty loses her already lost, lovely alcoholic brother Liam. His funeral sinks her back into the gathered ranks of her rambling Irish family - the dysfunctional, drinking, blue-eyed Hegartys. Meanwhile, Liam's ghost hounds her out through memories and fantasies: her apparently tidy existence, her husband and children seeming more distant with each thought.

I can't really say more than this, except for imploring you to read the novel and compare experiences with mine. Well worth a space on your bookshelf or bedside table.

My favourite Milan Spring/Summer Collections

Jil Sander
Ah-mazing, sculptural, minimalism / maximalism contradictions, several eclectic prints, circus-like silhouettes, luminous carrier bags, block colours / stripes, billowing skirts with minimal white t-shirts...... I've put a video from style.com up so that you can see the models in motion - there are so many fabulous outfits that it would be a shame for me to exclude any of them. 

Aquilano.Rimondi

The Italian version of Liberty print fabrics, thigh-high splits and blinding colour combinations: salmon with aqua blue / red and yellow / orange and acid green, all with no sheer in sight!

Marni
Swimming cap hats, sportswear, cycling shorts, prints, ruffles, chunky shoes

Missoni

Tribal, geometric, square-brimmed hats, circular-heeled sandals, maxi-dresses, carrier bags (again, like Jil Sander), wording

Antonio Marras

Dreamy, romantic, deep burgandy, crisp white, smatterings of flowers, English garden

And those collections that were almost in my tip top list:

Roberto Cavalli (top left), Dsquared² (top right, just too preppy - not a new look), Brioni (bottom left, nice proportions, lace and red/brown combinations), Marco de Vincenzo (bottom right)

Dreamland by Christina Rossetti

Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.


She left the rosy morn,

She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.


Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.


Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.

This may seem like a fairly morbid subject matter to blog about, but I find this poem incredibly moving and beautiful. The poem explores the concept of an afterlife and suggests that we are only truly conscious once we reach this stage. It captures the sense of abandonment that you can sometimes feel as you flow through life - the knowledge that to a certain extent you can just float along and be carried by the natural momentum. Conversely, I also feel a tenacious desire to not be led along expecting some great enlightenment and to mould my passage through conscious and moral will.

The paintings that follow the poem are all the work of Mabel Alvarez, a Spanish-American artist of the twentieth century. The link between the art and the poem is rather tenuous, yet the pensive gazes of the women in the art fits the sombre, contemplative mood that Rossetti bottles in the words of the poem. I don't know - it just seems apt! Also, here is a quote from a poem by Alvarez called 'Pale Abalone Shell':


          I stand on the edge of a crater
          I gaze down into a curved moonlight void.
          In the centre is a strange, shining world.
          It floats in frightening space.
          One could fall off the edge of this world.

I am sure to have fairly existentialist dreams tonight.