Nicole Katz on Andreas Gedin

Andreas Gedin's Ich Bin Ein Berliner Freespace, Sydney, May 11 - June 8, 2002 "Ich bin ein Berliner" means "I am a Berliner" (and can also mean "I am a doughnut"). In 1963, JFK went to West Berlin. His visit came just a year after the ignominious Wall had sliced the country and its people in two. Kennedy gave his speech right beside the Wall so that it would be heard by the people of East Berlin. The video begins with a voice over of JFK's speech. At the time, his famous words "Ich bin ein Berliner" were a message of political solidarity with West Germany. But in today's Germany, what is the meaning of "Ich bin ein Berliner"? In Gedin's video this famous line is pulled from the news reels of history and transformed into a mantra of power and exclusion. Ich Bin Ein Berliner centres on a student and a teacher. Over many unrelenting minutes a beleaguered student, with innocently imperfect pronunciation, attempts to say the famous line. She, the teacher, is dressed in black; he, the student, is dressed in red; and the backdrop to their unsuccessful efforts is yellow. The patriotic colours loom large, the camera is coolly detached and the actors' faces deadpan. Facing front, the pair never once look at each other. Their body language is stiff, formal and unforgiving. In this minimalist video there is the awkward trinity of the native/the teacher, the foreigner/the student and the omniscient German flag. His competent articulation remains to the end unacceptable to his teacher. Why is this? "Identification through language is something very important. To belong to a group you need to speak the same language. The poor Greek man in my video will never belong to Germany." Ich Bin Ein Berliner is as much about the power and politics of language as it is about the futility and absurdity of language. It brings to mind Ionesco's play, The Lesson, where an innocent student allows himself to be savagely victimised by his teacher. Gedin says: "Another, connected interest of mine in this video is the sadomasochistic situation in teaching/learning." "Kennedy has a heavy accent when he says this in German," says Gedin. "It is obvious that he never could be taken for a German. On the other hand it doesn't matter because he's from 'The Free World'". This is, of course, in beautifully stark contrast to the student. The student may well be Greek, but he may as well be Turkish or Moroccan or Albanian, or even Jewish. For all the student's desire to be a Berliner he never can be because the status of the foreigner is irrevocable. Language alone is no guarantee of acceptance. The video ends with the same bloated colours of the German flag. Whereas they had initially only seemed humorous, they now appear cynical and forbidding. Ich Bin Ein Berliner has previously been exhibited at: Kristiansstads Konsthall, solo show, Sweden (2002) Galve Knostcentrum, solo show, Sweden (2001) In Utopian Landscape, group show, Zinc Gallery, Stockholm (2001) In As If You Mean What You Say, group show, Tokyo (2001) Nicole Katz

Lucas Ihlein on Diego Bonetto and Emma Jay

Diego Bonetto and Emma Jay Dear..... The work I wanna tell you about is by Diego Bonetto and Emma Jay. Diego is an artist studying at the Uni of Western Sydney, and Emma is a dentist. Both are activists who are keenly involved with the Midnight Star Squatted Social Centre at Homebush. Out at the Kingswood campus of the Uni of Western Sydney there is a beautiful decrepid old drive-in cinema. It was operating from the '60s til 1984, when the manager said that it was the onset of video rental stores that was forcing him to go outta business. (Diego found that in a local paper from the time - I love that such a document can help to pinpoint a transitional moment in the history of technology)... anyway its now owned by the Uni and they've used it as artist studios for their masters students, and a bunch of ex-honours students nearly succeeded in setting up a gallery in the old projection booth, but the uni shut it down and now the building is condemned. The whole site is pretty amazing tho, there are those undulating bitumen crests where you used to park yer car, and the whole area under the ex-screen is like a forest of weeds. It's in this weed kingdom where Diego and Emma located their project "WeedKiller/PestController" - they created an audio-tour of the weeds on the site. You get a CD walkman and a glass of champagne, and follow the trail of numbered stakes hammered into the ground throughout the scrub. Cheesy instrumental tracks fade into detailed and quite scientific botanical data about the particular weed, its origins and distribution, threat to the ecosystem. It_s hilarious that they've treated lowly weeds with the same reverence as a botanist would lecture on rare and exotic succulents. And it_s really interesting, too, to note that some of the most common plants we see everyday are classified under the "Noxious Weed Act 1993", and landowners must "fully and continually supress and destroy all W2 weeds growing on land for which they are responsible". The analogy between weeds and squatters is clear to the artists...it's just as clear that the classification of weeds is arbitrary, changeable and political (just as has been the introduction of foreign species (including European humans) into Australia). Weeds find a place to live and thrive, often in otherwise inhospitable terrain... I have a book of short stories by dissident chinese writers from the 1950s called "Fragrant Weeds"... Tonight Jane cooked "Foeniculum Vulgare", Caramelised Fennel with Creamy Polenta - fennel occurs mostly "as a weed of wastelands, alluvial flats, river banks, roadsides, railway embankments and irrigation channels. It is capable of forming dense infestations which exclude other vegetation". It is delicious. For the next guided tour contact Diego on 0411293178 or diegowho@hotmail.com

Simon Ingram on Maddie Leach

Maddie Leach's Ice Rink and Lilac Ship Gallery Six, Waikato Museum of Art and History / Te Whare Taonga o Waikato July 2002 Potentially one of the highlights of New Zealand's 2002 exhibition calendar is Maddie Leach's Ice Rink and Lilac Ship. A stretch of ice purpose built for skating upon ran 28 of this writer's paces down the length of a generously sized well lit gallery space. In an adjoining gallery, a slow contemplative video projection of massive ship passing over ocean all in Lilac, seeming to act as sounding board, increasing the resonance of the star attraction: The Ice Rink. Like much new art exhibited recently in public galleries in New Zealand, The Ice Rink's supporting material suggests the work in question has a dialogue with modernism, ". the work can serve as an unusual piece of minimalist sculpture ." Indeed it could, but is there such a need? 28 paces of ice, a collection of delighted viewers becoming participants, cool frosted air all seem somehow constrained by what might just be an unnecessary, possibly constraining, catch-all distinction. Parents and children alike cordially cued together. Bobbing, wobbling and gliding off down the strip, they seemed to actualize the work according to their actions and interactions with the ice and others. No need a discourse of minimalism, then. Work like this is able to realize a kind of plenitude not because it is coded with information about art, historical or otherwise, or because of cultural resonance. Rather it is because materiality matches what one might call its 'idea driver' seamlessly. The artist, who has made a feature of her work a certain commitment to ice skating, mentioned that she had chosen to steer clear of sequins, the Strictly Ballroom scenario. One might say that Paul Mercurio's pants are traded for the stealth and addiction to winter of Peter Hoeg's wonderfully atmospheric Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow with great success in what is a very good exhibition by this young New Zealand artist. Simon Ingram

Bari Caton on brain-tanning

What a buckskinner does. Well, for a hobby I enjoy making brain-tanned buckskins from deer hides. So I'm a buckskinner. Actually, I don't skin the deer myself, nor do I go hunting to kill them. I don't kill anything. I get all the deer hides for free from the local butcher during deer-hunting season, since the hunters only want the venison meat. Brain-tanning is the native, primitive, aboriginal way of preparing hides, practiced around the world for thousands of years. Modern chemical tanning is a poor substitute. It's done by scraping the fur and the layers of dermis and epidermis off the animal skin, and then soaking the skin in the brains of the animal for anywhere from 20 minutes to 24 hours. Every animal has enough brains to tan it's own hide: squirrel, deer, buffalo, you name it. Every animal except teenagers, of course. After soaking in brains, the skin is then pulled and stretched until it becomes like soft pure white flannel. Then it is smoked over a punky, smoky wood fire, which turns it that nice honey color buckskin. White buckskin will stiffen up like rawhide if it gets wet, but for some unknown reason, the smoked hides can get wet (even in the washing machine), and when they dry, they remain soft. Then you can use the hides to make clothing, bags and pouches, or anything you want. It's wonderful to do beadwork on. West Jefferson NC If you want to learn more about braintanning, try www.braintan.com http://www.braintan.com http://www.braintan.com which is run by Matt and Michelle, two of my teachers. Happy tanning! Bari Caton

Bully - Chris Chapman

Bully Lions Gate Films 2001 Directed by Larry Clark Written by Zachary Long and Roger Pullis Based on the book Bully: A True Story of High School Revenge by , Jim Schutze As a photographer, Larry Clark has, since the late 1960s, documented the sex and drugs lifestyles of certain groups of American youth. His classic photobook Tulsa put him on the map, and since then he has produced various bodies of work that focus on the intensities of that period in life that might generally be called adolescence. His 1980s book Teenage Lust was more about sex than drugs (but for Clark, they are almost always connected), and his colour photographic works of the 1990s heightened the intensity by zooming in on the markers of puberty: wisps of hair on boys' cheeks and upper lips, skateboard-grazed legs, drops of sweat. Clark also made really interesting, if lesser known collage works: groups of photos, newspaper clippings, notes, sometimes objects like skateboards and t-shirts, that spoke about youth violence, suicide and the unrequited love of parents and peers. Clark's film Bully is his third (following the infamous KIDS, and the recent Another Day in Paradise). Bully is based on a true story where a group of Florida teenagers murdered one of their own, the motive being his continued harrassment and bullying behaviour. The trademark intimate camerawork and closeup heat is there, but a few things seem to grate. Clark seems most at home with subject matter set against a gritty backdrop: the rural landscape of Tulsa, Texas; the downtown grime of New York city. The aqua and pink bedlinen, tropical locale, and convertible sportscars of Bully seems more Beverley Hills 90210. The story is a powerful one but it is under-developed. The chain of events that lead to the murder of Bobby Kent (played by Nick Stahl) are hazy and haphazard, which may of course have been the case, but this makes the murder seem too inexplicable. Perhaps being unfamiliar with Florida ambience, Clark has tagged the film with unnecessary references to his interests outside the film: a collage of posters reads uncannily like a Clark installation, there are intimate scenes between younger and older brothers that are incidental to the narrative. Critics have suggested that Clark's lingering shots of the teens' sexual antics, and of the young naked female actors in particular are gratutitous; and that the murder scene is unnecessarily drawn out. I didn't find this to be the case: teen intimacy has always been a biggie for Clark, and, the muder scene is brutal without being overtly goresome. The film ends with a roll-call of the characters and the sentences each received. This is the most shocking aspect of the story. The sentences seem extraordinarily heavy, with several receiving life imprisonment. Bobby's best friend Marty Puccio (played by the beautiful Brad Renfro) was almost always a bystander to the entire sordid chain of events, an endless victim of Bobby's taunting. He was executed. Chris Chapman

War Boy - Chris Chapman

War Boy Kief Hillsbery Picador, 2000 Hillsbery's novel War Boy opens with a declaration by its narrator: "I'm Rad I'm deaf I don't talk I'm fourteen I'm telling the story. And storytellers lie so why bother you ask." Rescued from a scenario of deep family violence by twentysomething mentor Jonnyboy, skateboarder Radboy travels to San Francisco and makes several discoveries about his own life. He and Jonnyboy meet up with Finn and Critter, a pair of 'kweer tweekerboyz', all are variously punks and skins, with convictions and hearts of gold. Told in first-person from Radboy's point of view, the dialogue uses abbreviations, slang, variations of language like customised signing. There is a high degree of affection between Radboy and his posse, but its never exploitative. Radboy takes his own time and terms to figure out his emotions and eventually find love. Apart from Radboy's journey into himself, the narrative is fuelled by a social activist scenario involving the bombing of a tree-felling corporate, and the subsequent kidnapping which goes wrong. Since Radboy is deaf the sensations of touch and particularly smell are important: the identifying characteristics of different boys' sweat; the calming and memory-energising aromas of home-cooked food; and the acrid stench of a burning fox carcass. Communication flows in gestures, looks and actions. Chris Chapman

Ruark Lewis on Sophie Coombs

SOPHIE COOMBS - "X marks the spot" 'Front Room' Sydney Autodidactic: a drawing and an etching. Sophie Coombs shows a room- piece empowered by its sense of absence. In this room is juxtaposed two gestures. They are collected together in the spirit of a spontaneous improvised mark. Here the sign is abstracted to form a brooding dialogue. It's sensability is that of the autodidact. In the pristine white gallery environment, a space so white that an X cross that she struck directly on one of the walls becomes an action, a taunt, a sign of its own limitations. This crossing action is set up theatrically, and one might suspect it as a strategy the artist uses to insure that viewers inspects the small etchings on the opposite wall with a new respect. Her drawings are densely surfaced haptic affairs, laboured over yet maintaining fresh movements and surface tension. Her compositions spread like riverlets and lines in complex sets of overlay. Her game of figure-ground oscillate in an unsure paradox. A baroque sense of space. That might become but draws you back. Does Sofie Coombs have a cross to bear? Hardly, this current showing the walls accomodate another set of 'marks'.These are the first etchings she has exhibited. The outcome of a new experiment incorporating print media. The lines remind me of Dieter Roths drawings for their wilfulness, yet the scale here is minature by comparison. Full of agile movements and surface penetration. This is subterrainean territory, a slow unfolding psychic drawing of an artful tactician. And for this I think they are very interesting. Ruark Lewis

Christopher Gill on Susan Hiller

Susan Hiller witness 2000 biennale of sydney 2002 watch ! he is listening ! "had focused on our house, when we passed by our house" a six year old boy stands in a moon lit gallery, motionless & alone parentless but poised, a car- stereo speaker "we realized that it could not be a meteorite not beneath the clouds" denuded of its plastic cladding and attached to a long length of sheathed "a blue white light" copper wire is cupped to one ear, a serene babbling "a blue green illumination" emanates from 599 other speakers, each uttering testimonies to ufo sightings and alien "a few men dressed in silver" abduction, cascade from a radial structure above. various other "my telephone rang at 2 am" spectator bodies are arranged within the installation, they too attach speakers "i was shocked to see a huge rugby ball shining in the sky" to their ears, and like the six year old they are calm and irrefutably present, their body language "i was sitting in a tube, a vacuum tube" serene rather than clutching "drove like mad back to the petrol station". the configuration of the spectator citizens evoke "tell the media do not panic we mean no harm" a sense of civic harmony rarely experienced these days, in the early years of world war three "my name is fred i don't want to give my surname". a mother and daughter seem to dance "at the railway track i stopped to allow a man leading a cow pass by" or rather frolic around the installation as if killing off idle moments around a fountain in the town square "followed all the way by the ufo". there is no time here only order, a voluptuous young women enters giggles and then leaves to fetch her boyfriend "the wife of the man leading the cow" and while they listen "when i rang the police they said the chief inspector had seen it" i notice the six year old has spirited himself away. abducted ? "they did not stop" another man, older but still young, sits "a bright orange illumination" in the corner, outside the radius of the installation but not apart "a bright orange illumination heading north . north east" on a wooden chair vacated by the mesuem security guard, quietly watching like an empowered citizen "i am very sure it wasn't a plane i've never seen a plane act like that" drinking coffee, playing chess as a sleeping baby in a pram is briefly abandoned "then it reversed and dropped to the ground" by its nanny dead in the center of the installation, and the baby wakes and she too assumes the posture of self possessed citizenry "i could hear a voice in my head a very clear voice" waiting there, without a trace of anxiety for the nanny to pick her up. watch, she is listening! Christopher Gill