Tag Archives: Manchester

Unbelievable

00210_s_9aem39j6m0628Gasworks (A Ganzfeld Sphere), James Turrell

The Henry Moore Sculpture Studio, Dean Clough, 1993

Photo copyright Jeremy Hardman-Jones

Here’s something quite personal, and, in keeping with the mission statement of this blog, not available on the web in any way that my google-fu can ascertain. This is a James Turrell piece that fabricated and exhibited by the now defunct Henry Moore Sculpture studio at Dean Clough Mills in Halifax. The work commissioned at the Studio at Dean Clough appears to exist in mysterious lacunae in terms of the history of contemporary art in the UK. I was the Deputy Director at the Henry Moore Sculpture Trust from 1990 to 1994 under Robert Hopper; whether it was a the perceived failure of the Artranspenine project in 1998, the premature death of Robert in 1999, the change of leadership at the Henry Moore Foundation, and the closure of the studio, I cannot say. Even my existence at the organisation seems to be a matter of some dispute, since I do not turn up in any of the online literature on the Trust despite my curation of the first exhibition at the Henry More Institute in Leeds (oh, and I designed the logo too). The programme at the Halifax studio predated the glory days of Brit art and the YBA’s (though the grant programme through the Trust supported such key early ’90’s projects as Building One, Gambler, Modern Medicine and Whiteread’s House). I remember the art we commissioned in those years like the music; the end of 1988’s  ‘second summer of love‘ when Madchester mutated in Soup Dragons, EMF or The Farm; still mining the British Sculptural Tradition before the advent of Oasis, Blur and Pulp; when Radiohead was still Pablo Honey, those weird, liminal Major years, when the past had not yet become the present.

The manufacture of the fibreglass sphere in Halifax was the culmination of the project first proposed by James Turrell in 1969 with Robert Irwin and Ed Wortz for Expo 70 and at LACMA. Here’s an excellent précis by William Poundstone from Blouin Artinfo; interestingly, no mention of the first actual manifestation of the first full body Ganzfeld sphere at Dean Clough in ’93.

This version was exhibited at the ICA in 1996 and then found itself in the hands of Larry Gagosian (at least one of these works by Turrell was exhibited at Gagosian in London in 2010). Another version appears to have been constructed at the National Sculpture Factory in Cork, again in 1996. The lovely assistants you see in my image from 1993 are Jo McGonigal, not, it appears, an associate lecturer at Manchester Metropolitan University (and still, I hope, an artist) and Chris Sacker, who is definitely still an artist.

A Ganzfeld (Ger. ‘entire field’) sphere is an enclosed spherical space, lit to eliminate any visual graduation or distance reference. When inside the sphere (originally proposed as table tennis balls, cut in half, and placed over each eye), the physical act of seeing is settling on an effective nothing; the eye has only a void on which to rest. Like William Hurt in Ken Russell’s Altered States, the mind potentially enters into a state where it can only start to perceive itself; past, present and future are revealed. The viewer starts to see only what the eye is not what it sees. Gazing back into the past, maybe this was only a dream?

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This Week’s Puzzler

 

CORINUM MUSEUM CIRENCESTERRoman acrostic or word square scratched on wall plaster and containing a secret Christian message

CORINUM MUSEUM CIRENCESTER
Roman acrostic or word square scratched on wall plaster and containing a secret Christian message

We were back in the West Country for Christmas, and we went to Bath for the day. I hadn’t seen the Roman Baths for 20 years or so, and was curious to see how this site had been developed, since I remembered it as pretty cramped and BANES being not exactly a by word for quality visitor experience. The tourist stream must be incessant (as, presumably, it has been since the baths were founded 2000 years ago; plus ca change etc), and that’s difficult to handle. One thing that has always been wonderful about the baths (apart from the raw energy of the hot spring, which is an astounding thing to see on a cold grey December day in England) are the lead curses that Romano-British patrons of the baths and their attendant temples would throw into the healing and sacred waters. The messages are so immediate and present. That got to me thinking about this card, which is from the excelent Corinuim Musem in Cirencester. The Cotswolds were the play ground of the rich and monied upper classes in Roman Britain (plus ca change etc), and Cirencester (Corinium) was the richest city outside of London.

So this litle acrostic is a fun graffito from that time; and immediate record of an individual long dead; something never meant for anyone’s eyes other than the person who wrote. I’m going to be making liberal use of Wikipedia here, but here goes:

R  O  T  A  S

O  P  E  R  A

T  E  N  E  T

A  R  E  P  O

S  A  T  O  R

My card calls it an acrostic, Wikipedia calls it a pallindrome, I call it something that reads the same whichever way you look at it: Rotas (thing with a wheel), Opera (working), Tenet (has commands, preserves), Arepo ( a creeping thing, a proper names of some kind), Sator (the master, sower, the first principle).

This includes opposite and alternating directions; since Latin has no set word order, it still reads the same: ‘farmer Arepo uses a plough’. The literature on the Sator Square appears to be vast (just go to the Wikipedia page, already), especially concerning the proper name Arepo, which, apparently appears no where else (which means it’s code?A made up name?); but if it’s so famous (the Sator Square appearing from Pompeii to Cirencester to Manchester to Sienna to Dura Europos to the island of Gotland) then why didn’t people start adopting it as an actual name?

It’s been used for magic (such word play confuses the Devil, apparently), but also, it says here. contains a secret Christian message. The centre cross can be read as the first two words of the Pater Noster (Our Father, who art in heaven etc), surrounded by A and O; Alpha and Omega. As such, it could be a Christian code, something that you’d write on a wall to tell other Christians that there were Christians about, or, more simply, something that one might idly scratch to affirm ones own identity, a tag. And, as it did spread across the entire Mediterranean world and beyond, over hundreds of years, it might be earliest example of what we all now call a meme…

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View from the bridge

This is a combination of a 35mm slide that I took for recording purposes and a postcard that I received from a friend Beccy Jones for a dinner party or whatever, back in the early ’90’s.  A nice combination of the personal and political.

Nick Crowe and Ian Rawlinson, Project for the River Medlock 1998, bullet proof glass, audio, Oxford Road Bridge, Manchester

I used this image in lectures to demonstrate what I believed (and still do believe) is the most central and key role of the artist in public space; the other with the ability to see what cannot be seen by the everyday. When Nick Crowe and Ian Rawlinson, two artists based in Manchester, were approached by Arts Transpennine 98 for a project in central Manchester they proposed one of this most simple and effective urban project. The brief was to reconnect the City with the rivers than run in gunnels beneath Manchester; and they did in the most elegant way possible; they cut into the steel bridge, and installed glass panels so that instead of craning over these 5 foot high panels to see the river, one could just look through. Perfect, simple, elegant, and had the advantage of placing them and the work directly within all that Iain Sinclair/Alan Moore/Patrick Keiller psychogeography that was so big at the time. Beautiful.

Adolphe Vallette, The Irwell 1913 Whitworth Art Gallery

…and here’s a river in Manchester from the City’s glorious heyday, smokey in an impressionist sunset. This is in the Whitworth, I think, and of the River Irwell, of which there was an Arts Lottery funded sculpture trail (more on that later). Nick Crowe was the project manager for Rita McBride’s Arena sculpture in Salford. My father was from Manchester and this the City that he would have known, just 10 years before his birth. I’ve always had a strange attraction to the city, though I’ve spent very little time there. It’s changed a lot, but then so have most things.

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