{"title":"布鲁克·安德鲁,第22届悉尼双年展:NIRIN,新南威尔士美术馆,Artspace,坎贝尔镇艺术中心,Cockatoo岛,当代艺术博物馆,国家艺术学校(在Carriageworks重新开放),2020年3月14日至9月6日","authors":"U. Rey","doi":"10.1080/14434318.2020.1837381","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"Brook Andrew’s 22nd Biennale of Sydney came with great expectations, and for a mounting tide of reviews it delivered the edge it promised. Seizing the urgency of our time, hope, the man and the moment collide in Andrew’s 2020 vision. Though he ardently denies alpha-authority—widely promoting the project as artist and First Nations-led–don’t be fooled by methodology: with visual panache and savvy exhibition design, the ‘Look-is-Brook’, Artistic Director par excellence. Weeks out from the opening, Andrew wrote to international artists reassuring them that Sydney was ‘safe to visit’. At the time, he was referring to the summer’s ‘unprecedented’ fires, but none predicted the pandemic on the horizon or the biennale’s eight week closure. Nor would anyone imagine how ‘I can’t breathe’ would shift from bushfire smoke to corona-virus respiratory failure and then the chilling refrain of the Black Lives Matter campaign. Such cataclysmic events will forever bracket this biennale, which reads in retrospect like a predictive sign of our times. And if timing is Andrew’s forte, temporality is his medium. He treats the expanded exhibition’s form as a vehicle to slip between past, present and future, thereby folding history into the contemporary, from colonial catastrophe to the shattered now. NIRIN, meaning ‘edge’ in the Wiradjuri language of Andrew’s maternal country, spans six sites across which multi-sensory works of spatial, cultural, environmental and biological difference are cannily displayed and performed. As a connecting device, Indigenous language and relational exchange become the poetic coda, made explicit in NIRIN’s seven Wiradjuri-named themes: Dhaagun (Earth: Sovereignty and Working Together); Bagaray-Bang (Healing); YirawyDhuray (Yam-Connection: Food); Gurray (Transformation); Muriguwal Giiland (Different Stories); Ngawaal-Guyungan (Powerful-Ideas: The Power of Objects) and Bila (River: Environment). Despite NIRIN’s ‘non-hierarchical web of connections’, my custom is (still) to enter the BoS at its native home, the sandstone pile of the Art Gallery of NSW (though the BoS’s birthplace was a stone’s-throw north in the wings of the Sydney Opera House). 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引用次数: 0
摘要
布鲁克·安德鲁(Brook Andrew)的第22届悉尼双年展带来了巨大的期望,对于越来越多的评论,它实现了它所承诺的优势。抓住我们时代的紧迫性,希望、人和时刻在安德鲁的2020愿景中碰撞。尽管他极力否认阿尔法权威——以艺术家和原住民领导的身份广泛宣传该项目——但不要被方法论所愚弄:凭借视觉华丽和精明的展览设计,艺术总监“Look is Brook”堪称卓越。开幕几周后,安德鲁写信给国际艺术家,向他们保证悉尼“参观安全”。当时,他指的是今年夏天“前所未有”的火灾,但没有人预测疫情即将到来,也没有人预测双年展将关闭八周。也没有人能想象“我无法呼吸”会如何从丛林大火的烟雾转变为冠状病毒的呼吸衰竭,然后是“黑人的命也是命”运动中令人不寒而栗的副歌。这样的灾难性事件将永远伴随着这个双年展,回顾过去,它就像是我们时代的一个预测标志。如果时间是安德鲁的强项,那么时间就是他的媒介。他将扩大后的展览形式视为一种在过去、现在和未来之间穿梭的工具,从而将历史折叠到当代,从殖民灾难到破碎的现在。NIRIN,在安德鲁的祖国维拉德朱里语中的意思是“边缘”,横跨六个地点,在这些地点,空间、文化、环境和生物差异的多感官作品被巧妙地展示和表演。作为一种连接手段,土著语言和关系交流成为诗歌的结尾,在NIRIN的七个Wiradjuri命名的主题中得到了明确:Dhaagun(地球:主权和合作);Bagaray Bang(治疗);YirawyDhuray(Yam连接:食物);Gurray(转型);穆里古瓦尔·吉兰(不同的故事);Ngawaal Guyungan(强大的思想:物体的力量)和Bila(河流:环境)。尽管NIRIN有“非层级的联系网”,但我的习惯是(仍然)在新南威尔士州美术馆的砂岩堆里进入BoS(尽管BoS的出生地离悉尼歌剧院的侧翼只有一箭之遥)。这座山上的寺庙提供了低垂的果实,从维拉德朱里主演卡拉·狄更斯的狄更斯马戏团的新古典主义门廊开始
Brook Andrew, 22nd Biennale of Sydney: NIRIN, Art Gallery of New South Wales, Artspace, Campbelltown Arts Centre, Cockatoo Island, Museum of Contemporary Art, National Art School (Reopened at Carriageworks), 2020, 14 March–6 September 2020
Brook Andrew’s 22nd Biennale of Sydney came with great expectations, and for a mounting tide of reviews it delivered the edge it promised. Seizing the urgency of our time, hope, the man and the moment collide in Andrew’s 2020 vision. Though he ardently denies alpha-authority—widely promoting the project as artist and First Nations-led–don’t be fooled by methodology: with visual panache and savvy exhibition design, the ‘Look-is-Brook’, Artistic Director par excellence. Weeks out from the opening, Andrew wrote to international artists reassuring them that Sydney was ‘safe to visit’. At the time, he was referring to the summer’s ‘unprecedented’ fires, but none predicted the pandemic on the horizon or the biennale’s eight week closure. Nor would anyone imagine how ‘I can’t breathe’ would shift from bushfire smoke to corona-virus respiratory failure and then the chilling refrain of the Black Lives Matter campaign. Such cataclysmic events will forever bracket this biennale, which reads in retrospect like a predictive sign of our times. And if timing is Andrew’s forte, temporality is his medium. He treats the expanded exhibition’s form as a vehicle to slip between past, present and future, thereby folding history into the contemporary, from colonial catastrophe to the shattered now. NIRIN, meaning ‘edge’ in the Wiradjuri language of Andrew’s maternal country, spans six sites across which multi-sensory works of spatial, cultural, environmental and biological difference are cannily displayed and performed. As a connecting device, Indigenous language and relational exchange become the poetic coda, made explicit in NIRIN’s seven Wiradjuri-named themes: Dhaagun (Earth: Sovereignty and Working Together); Bagaray-Bang (Healing); YirawyDhuray (Yam-Connection: Food); Gurray (Transformation); Muriguwal Giiland (Different Stories); Ngawaal-Guyungan (Powerful-Ideas: The Power of Objects) and Bila (River: Environment). Despite NIRIN’s ‘non-hierarchical web of connections’, my custom is (still) to enter the BoS at its native home, the sandstone pile of the Art Gallery of NSW (though the BoS’s birthplace was a stone’s-throw north in the wings of the Sydney Opera House). This temple on the hill offers the low hanging fruit, beginning in the neoclassical vestibule where Wiradjuri star Karla Dickens’s Dickensian Circus