I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing William Kentridge performing live, in say one of his performance-lectures, but there is a significant account of his presence in the work he makes and in the documentation of his process which persists in the many books on his work; but here the theatre and acting background really begin to make sense. It is in his ‘being’ in relation to a history of the world (be that art, society and so on), to the development of science and the ever-present momentum of time and in his physicality, his body (draped in consistent black trousers and white shirt) that we apprehend the brilliance and the humanity of this creative producer. It is in this juxtaposition that the work really becomes poignant. The endeavour and determination to stride forth over that chair in a repetitive act and find your place and make your mark within the history of time, science and Africa’s colonial and postcolonial development is evident in one of the opening installations of this show called The Refusal of Time (2012).

The work is comprised of five projections, a collection of crates and panels, four megaphones suspended from the ceiling, a series of chairs and a mechanical wooden sculpture which is placed on the floor in the centre of the space. It’s also worth mentioning that two of the walls of the space have been built specially for this show and are stud with the wooden frame exposed and facing into the installation space. There are two projections on each of these opposing stud walls and one larger projection in the middle. The work in its entirety lasts for thirty minutes and has a definitive beginning and end with a two-minute pause before the sequence starts again. This as a strategy works well, as it encourages a sense of anticipation in the waiting, more strategically aligned to theatrical productions. This choreography cannot be underestimated, we are gathering, seating ourselves, getting ready for the action to begin. The chairs both swivel and static are positioned and marked with white paint on the floor, their location is specific and we can be in no doubt of this. The apparatus – pump – breathing machine-hybrid is moving and marking time, paced in a constant momentum. Its actions both vertical and lateral, echo the mechanisms of an oil pumpjack and the expanding lungs and ribcage of the body respectively. Depending where you locate yourself within the installation, seated or standing, you may view images through this, it filters and interrupts your experience.

Sound, vision, erupts, the first chapter begins. We are confronted with a ticking metronome on all screens. The beat of time, the musicians pace maker is present and then interrupted by a band, trombones, voices, the kind of brass band we associate with a New Orleans procession and emerged from military histories and the communication of orders and movements in battle. There are silhouettes, which walk on from the left screen and process gradually through the remaining screens, here we are confronted with the march of the disaffected, those on the move carrying their possessions on their heads, and then the instrument playing band brings up the rear. Kentridge then brings us back to the studio, stepping elegantly over a chair, never faltering, despite the obstacle. We see collages of text, Angola, Sierra Leone, maps of the world, and more spoken word, talking about a journey, a journey through history which the artist brings us on, starting with Atlas carrying the globe on his shoulder. The narrative describes invention and inventions, “propaganda by action”, “gravitational fields”, “no trace of light”, “blackholes” and “wavelengths” and the physic of the Universe, the event horizon and eventual “black darkness”. The projections, move from black and white collaged animations, to a range of performance elements, including scenes where performers wear paper and painted costumes, and perform infidelity in domestic spaces through to the development of scientific discovery in The Royal Observatory, Club Autonomie, Dakar, the Telegraph Office, London and the artist’s studio. The sets comprise of illusory painted staging, with physical objects and moves to other stop-frame constructions reminiscent of Georges Melies film and sets. The production values in The Refusal of Time, are varied, spliced, collaged and always visually compelling. The pace and evolution of the work successfully brings us through stages of quieter passages, where we need to hear the male voice and story-telling to crescendos of sound, noise and a sense of urgency. The work is a journey and we are invited to participate through our physical positioning in the space and visual of the work. We as audience along with the wooden shipping boxes are temporary participants and temporal extant’s in Kentridge’s play of ‘Here I am” and “praise of productive procrastination”.

There are a number of other stand-out pieces of work in this show, including Second-Hand Reading, (2013) a projection of a flip book and Right Into Her Arms, (2016) an animated puppet theatre. Second-Hand Reading is an animated book, a dictionary, with drawings of landscapes, Modernist shapes, texts and of Kentridge himself. It starts at the beginning at A and with the slightest of juddery movements, which suggest its construction, makes its way finally to Z. It is accompanied by a piece of piano music by Neo Muyanga, and we are given text that suggests that ‘which ever page you open’, ‘there you are’.

Author: Mona Casey

From here we enter Pitch Black, a smooth echo/ A scoop with a shelter, 2015, the biggest of the works within the show. Blue felt carpet curves in the space and under a wooden structure which balances on building blocks of concrete and wood, with white strip lighting arranged around the exterior. This is the stuff/ fabric of the blue-screen studio, re-imagined as artwork object. We are given a stage, with a perimeter, where we can edge against the gallery wall and exist off the space of performance but inevitably shift from observing to participants in the narrative of blue. The colour echoes a version of a cosmic world found in Renaissance religious paintings. The geometric elements are so cranky in their lack of perfection, but yet do the job of holding up the wooden structure, with its occasional fluorescent orange marks. Light emanates from underneath, creating another tone, within the landscape. The ambiguous structure has two sets of stairs leading into it, with strict instructions for two visitors maximum at any time. The interior of the structure is modest and has some basic architectural elements and a sound work. The sound is pieced together recordings of art making and narrated text of atmospheric moments; the former echoing Robert Morris’ work ‘Sound of its own making’, 1961, but here there is no poking fun at the mythology of artistic genius, this is a journey of remembrance, an act of documenting ‘making’ time. The entire work has an otherliness to it that is reminiscent of a space beyond our experience, a hut in the sky; but the poor recycled and domestic materials are known to us and interrupt our escape. We can see the staging, we can see beyond the blue hang to the gallery beyond, but the installations seduction draws us back down to this other world. The heavens should be upward, toward the roof of the building, but it is the other way around, the heavens, the sky, are on the ground.

The third space has a number of framed works, called Process Photograms, ♯1, 2, 3,4, 6, 10,13 &15, 2015. These are images created by Anne Hardy from the daily sweepings of the studio environment, using the debris and dust of the days creating, to make abstract images.

The final space and work Punctuated Remains, 2015, is a yellow room, carpeted from ceiling edge to floor and entry demands the removal of your shoes. This is a habitat for sculptural proposals, a place for material play; these echoes of Minimalism past, formal arrangement and drawing in space, lie within a visual field of colour. For a moment, intellectually I confront the possibility of being in a colour field or Miro painting with forms, objects, mappings, levitating in space, but gravity is too evident and the individual components, works, remain too dependent on wall and floor, to be convincing.

Overall this is a show of two halves. The first two works are theatrical, poetic and beautifully rendered. We engage with an idea of artistic creation and its potential affinity to a concept of Godly creation. From nothingness came everything, from the cosmos, to the sky, to human endeavor. There are some moments in the latter part of the show, which develop the formal play of the first, but the symbolism and composition is less assured.

This was an impressive presentation of the work of Anne Hardy and I await her next show with anticipation.

Author: Mona Casey