There is something sinister in this power relation between the older and the younger male. The red clothing of the younger almost, if not a cassock, are suggestive of the clothing worn by choir boys. The male in black appears more like a religious figure, in his uniform.  A not fully articulated and ghost-like form appears to be realising itself behind the boy. The question is how powerful is the dominant male, is it power over or some sort of transference to the younger one that he is trying to achieve? That this happens on a stage has all the implications of a performance that The Hypnotist as title implies; but yet the articulation of the bodies, the older males physical gesture shows effort, whilst the younger male appears passive and receptive or powerless and immobile. Power and age stand in opposition to youth and good looks.

It is in this moment of suspense, in this particular frame of the narrative, in the non-telling and the un-known, where we are essentially left to consider the motives of the individuals that this painting really works.

1. Alan Woods, Pictures emphasising Stillness, pg 36; David Hockney, edited by Paul Melia, Manchester University Press, 1995

Author – Mona Casey

Where to see it:

Currently Touring as part of the David Hockney Retrospective

Tate Britain, London, 9^th Feb – 29^th May 2017

Georges Pompidou Centre, Paris, 21^st June – 23^rd October 2017

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 27^th November 2017 – 25^th February 2018

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