by There are two teenagers standing on center court at NGV International: a girl texting and, a short distance away, a boy with his hands in his pockets. They are 12 feet tall and black, and are on display as part of the third edition of the NGV Triennial – the National Gallery of Victoria’s mammoth exhibition of contemporary international art and design, which opened on Sunday.
These titanic teenagers, the work of British sculptor Thomas J. Price, are a distinctive choice for this central position. While impossible to miss, they are missing the spectacle of the colossal reclining Buddha (by Chinese artist Xu Zhen) that took center stage for the inaugural Triennale in 2017, and the enormous rotating digital screen (by Turkish-American artist Refik Anadol). ) in 2020. By contrast, Price’s statues appear anti-monumental; daily. They raise the questions: What is size-worthy? What takes up space, in public and in museums? How do these big, important things make us feel, as viewers? Is bigger really better?
The moment seems emblematic of this latest edition of the Triennial and the changing nature of the exhibition over nine years. Having proven itself with record audience numbers and establishing itself as a major event on the national arts calendar, the Triennale – which is free to enter – can perhaps now try a little less; Be more tangential and playful.
There is a sense of cheeky provocation in the giant thumbs-up sculpture by British satirist David Shrigley at the gallery’s street entrance, and in the two banners hanging above the building’s entrance: one displays a photograph of the famous banana work by artistic prankster Maurizio Cattelan, the other a Photo of British artist Ryan Gander’s precocious animatronic mouse, with its head poking out of a small hole in the wall. (NGV doubles down on Catellan’s joke by giving the banana his own white cube space; Gander’s talking mouse occupies an appropriately antiheroic runner position.)
That’s not to say this year’s Triennale isn’t a big, important exhibition. The numbers alone are overwhelming (almost 100 works or projects by more than 120 artists, designers and collectives, spread across the gallery’s three levels) even before you try to take in the exhibition with your eyes and brain. (Do not, under any circumstances, try to “do the Triennial” in a single visit.)
There are spectacular moments and many famous names: a text-based work by Yoko Ono on the north façade of the building and a participatory installation about mothers inside, a newly acquired body of work by Tracey Emin and a collection of fantastic works. looks and accessories from Maison Schiaparelli. This year’s Instagram fodder will include Sheila Hicks’ giant blue thread-like balls (the gentle antidote to Ron Mueck’s giant skulls from 2017) and Swiss artist Franziska Furter’s “climate room”: a rug hypercolor that represents infrared satellite images of hurricanes, over which delicate strands of transparent glass beads protrude that look like rain.
But the placement of Price’s adolescent figures, at the center of the Triennale, seems to represent shifting priorities and the gallery’s responsiveness to global conversations about representation in museum spaces and, specifically, the visibility of blacks.
This is supported by an abundant line of excellent art by black artists, including works by American photographer Tyler Mitchell (who rose to fame at just 23 years old for his landmark photo of Beyoncé on the cover of Vogue) that “recaptures small moments of joy everyday”; and two works by New York artist Derek Fordjour (also a favorite of Beyoncé), including his spectacular video work Fly Away, in which the puppet figure of a young black man attempts to not only survive but thrive while being manipulated by four white puppeteers (and humans).
Textile works also feature prominently in this year’s edition, reflecting a resurgence of the art form. In addition to the work of Sheila Hicks, a huge room on the ground floor is dedicated to Mun-dirra: a labyrinthine installation composed of 10 large woven pandanus panels that were created over two years by 13 women from the Burarra language group in western Arnhem Land. , based on common techniques used to manufacture fish traps. Wandering through the canals of this facility, inhaling the grassy smell of dried pandanus, I felt transported; In a dreamy moment, I imagined I was a fish.
Another standout among major textile commissions is Mexican designer Fernando Laposse’s epic 40-meter-long narrative tapestry Conflict Avocados, which presents a remarkable real-life story of environmental degradation, human exploitation and indigenous resistance in pastel hues. incredibly soft. using pigments made from avocado seeds and calendula flowers.
There are also powerful smaller-scale works: Losing myself in the second-floor rabbit-hole collection galleries, I suddenly find myself face to face with a striking Symbolist tapestry by American artist Diedrick Brackens, woven from hand-dyed cottons and featuring a black figure kneeling on red earth, with a strand of chain held between his raised fists.
Painting is also present in this edition, from veteran APY artists Iluwanti Ken and Betty Muffler, to mid-career Melbourne painter Prudence Flint and Tehran’s Farrokh Mahdavi. There is a preponderance of works by so-called “ultra-contemporary” artists (born after 1975), including British art market stars Lucy Bull and Flora Yukhnovich, New York painters Chase Hall and Ilana Savdie, and Czech artist Vojtěch Kovařík.
Among crowded gallery spaces where things often jostle for the viewer’s attention, these paintings are often elevated by their presentation: Yukhnovich’s luminous work is juxtaposed with examples of the Dutch floral still lifes and French Rococo paintings that inspired her; Flint’s set of rare domestic portraits has its own custom-carpeted corner and is placed alongside striking portraits of 16th- and 17th-century women by Flemish masters, a style that has informed her practice.
Among several stunning, room-spanning presentations, including installations by Japanese floral artist Azuma Makoto and Kosovo artist Petrit Halilaj, one of the most beautiful is dedicated to a set of large jewel-toned paintings by Melbourne-based artist Richard Lewer, which They represent biblical life. Story of Adam and Eve. Within the dark space, two sets of six paintings face each other from opposite walls, while the adjacent wall features a stunning 16th-century altarpiece depicting the Passion of Christ. In the center of the room, two church pews have been placed back to back, for quiet contemplation.
As in previous editions of the Triennial, these moments when old and new art mix are some of the most magical, with each work producing strange and exciting vibrations in the other. New York artist Diana al-Hadid takes top honors with two major new sculptural exhibitions inspired by (and incorporating) ancient and medieval objects and artworks from the NGV collection, including two stunning Renaissance paintings.
Adorned with gold, dramatically lit and set within a figure-eight gallery space clad in dramatic black velvet, it’s a coup de theater moment.
Many of the Triennial’s weakest moments, similarly, come down to design and presentation. While many of the contemporary works are successfully incorporated into collection displays to revealing effect (within the Chinese and South Asian collections, for example), there are a number of placements that seem disconcerting, even damaging. Italian artist Diego Cibelli’s spectacular white sculpture of a throne made of fruits and vegetables feels lost at sea among impressionist landscape paintings and 19th-century portraits. Almost all of the contemporary works installed in the much-loved, densely hung Hall feel overwhelmed (and consequently disappointing), including scenes of carved trees by Natsiaa-winning artist Aurukun, Keith Wikmunea and Vernon Marbendinar, which rightly should highlight.
Next door, an exciting collection of vibrant canvases by Guatemalan artist Vivian Suter threatens to dominate three striking but comparatively understated black-and-white paintings by Pitjantjatjara artist Timo Hogan, with no apparent logic behind the juxtaposition, a feeling compounded by the inclusion. In the same room there is a 19th-century English landscape by Constable and an 18th-century marine piece by Thomas Gainsborough.
In an exhibition of this size, which represents a wide spectrum of artistic and aesthetic forms in a comparatively limited space, not all works can be presented to the best effect. Inevitably, some will shine and some will not. After spending hours navigating NGV’s labyrinthine galleries to locate each work, my feeling was that less art could mean more impact. Maybe bigger is not, in fact, better.
That said, it would be difficult to spend even 20 minutes exploring this Triennial and not be rewarded; With so much work, curated with love and attention by the entire NGV curatorial staff, finding great quality art is like shooting fish in a barrel. You simply can’t miss it.
