Review: Social Structures
Metro Arts, Brisbane: 7 June–24 June, 2017
Originally published on inresidence-ari.org
Social Structures, curated by Amy-Clare McCarthy, brings together three powerful works by Tayla Haggarty, Kinly Grey and Anna McMahon that explore themes around intimacy and relationships. Personal narratives and universal experiences merge to take a critical and accessible approach to subjects rarely discussed openly.
Well Hung revisits Tayla Haggarty’s ongoing use of bodies and suspension in works that combine sculptural installations with durational performance to explore queer experience. A scaffolding structure is set up in the gallery with a wooden plank suspended through a simple system of rope and pulleys. Two almost naked women are strapped into harnesses, attached to the ropes, and sit on either side of the suspended plank, simultaneously resting on it but also holding it up using each other’s weight. The women are suspended, supporting each other physically through the weight of their bodies but also perhaps mentally, through the shared experience of what would be uncomfortable circumstances. Like scales, this balance between the two performers suggests equality and duality but also a certain sense of precariousness, as any small movement will have an effect on the equilibrium between the two.
Haggarty sees scaffolding as ‘beautiful’ and ‘sexy’ and plays off this contrast between the cold, industrial material and the soft, feminine bodies that nest in it. In the artist talk Haggarty mentions her interest in pursuing scaffolding as a way of reclaiming a material she feels like she’s never had access to. The use of this material recalls a certain kind of worksite masculinity, yet contradicts the power dynamics generally associated with it. Instead of a man occupying this space high off the ground, able to ogle and cat-call without consequence, these exposed women are perched above, looking down on the audience. The viewer feels somewhat voyeuristic looking at the performers, however they possess a physical sense of power afforded by their vantage point and are able to return the audience’s gaze with confidence. Interestingly, for a work about intimacy and relationships, the women face away from each other, yet their presence gives them each the strength to face out to the world and the on-lookers below. Through this work Haggarty manages to translate intangible negotiations of trust and duality in lesbian relationships into a striking visual metaphor.
Kinly Grey’s work between us takes a less overt approach to exploring interpersonal relationships. It uses the interaction of objects to convey the complex and sometimes contradictory emotions associated with our often-futile attempts to connect with people. A round, slightly aged mirror is suspended from the ceiling with a spotlight a few meters away pointed directly at it. During the daylight hours the light produced by the spotlight is hardly distinguishable and at night the beam of light, is almost a solid material in itself, penetrating the air and striking the mirror with confidence. Grey’s work imbues these simple objects with an emotional narrative; the mirror and light have something between them. They are not physically touching but are communicating in a seemingly intimate way, sending out light and bouncing it back.
For me, between us evokes associations with a lonely lighthouse trying to communicate with ships far out at sea, or of signal mirrors, used to try and catch the attention of a rescue party. The spotlight is always projecting its light out, but only sometimes is the beam returned. Depending on when the work is viewed it can seem like an ode to the strength of intimacy to exist even without the physical; like love that spans oceans, built on a deep trust. Other times it seems somewhat hopeless, relentlessly trying to make a connection that won’t be reciprocated. It seems bitter-sweet, hopelessly endearing and vulnerable. Grey mentions the way the objects themselves are imperfect but honest: ‘the light is dusty, the stand is filthy with paint on it, the mirror is chipped and the chords and plugs are visible’, reflecting the vulnerability inherent in intimacy.
Anna McMahon’s work Untitled #1 from the series Holding my breath consists of a sling of blue carpet suspended from the tops of two walls in the gallery. At the lowest point of the sea of deep blue, what appears to be a glass ball is cradled. Upon closer inspection it is the head of a glass dildo that has penetrated the surface of the carpet. The remainder, including a whip attachment, hides underneath.
The only point of contact with the floor is the leather whip that is literally swept ‘under the rug’, alluding to our tendency to hide or be ashamed of our sexual proclivities. Formally, it is a striking work with a large blue mass taking on a feeling of weightlessness via its suspension from the gallery walls. The glass ball that rests on the blue is merely the tip of the iceberg, challenging the audience to look below the surface. Untitled #1 possesses a duality of form—it carves out an almost monumental presence in the gallery space yet is made of a soft material and suspended, giving it a sense of precariousness. McMahon draws on her own queer life experiences to create a work that is imbued with personal narrative while leaving the viewer to recognise their own intimate experiences within it.
Industrial and found materials have been used by all three artists to convey feelings of intimacy, creating a simultaneous sense of strength and fragility. The use of scaffolding in Well Hung, which is solid and stable, is contradicted by the precarious balancing of bodies on thin rope, where every tiny movement is amplified. In between us Grey presents fairly impersonal objects to convey a surprisingly personal and emotional narrative, and uses light in a way that wavers between solid and confident to the visual equivalent of a whisper. McMahon’s Untitled #1 is an imposing presence in the gallery but the glass dildo tentatively emerges through the surface, suggesting vulnerability beyond the bold façade. This inherent fragility is exemplified in the method of suspension shared by all three works, bringing with it a tension—the suggestion that at any moment everything could come crashing down.
Despite being labeled a ‘queer show’ by a gallery visitor, and the clear references to queer sexuality in some works, Social Structures moves beyond trying to define a ‘queer experience’. It gives intimacy and relationships room to be monumental; emblematic of the place it has in our lives.