Creative, social & environmental connections

[claireadeleb]

Balancing the gender imbalance: Technicians in public art galleries

It’s pretty well known that public art galleries employ a disproportionate number of females. We work hard. We work voluntary extra hours in evenings and weekends. We work for less pay. It is socially acceptable for women to work in the arts, for the above reasons, and also because many ‘Kiwi blokes’ don’t want to, for the above reasons (I am generalising to make my point in a short blog – and you'll see a few more major gender generalisations coming up for the same reason). 

But I’ve recently discovered there are others belonging to the opposite sex who are just as enthusiastic as female gallery staff. Public art galleries have some incredibly (multi) talented men working for them as technicians. They’re also often artists, which explains why they’re so keen to install art exhibitions. This, in an odd bloggy way, is my ode to them. 

Many artists nowadays use a wide range of digital media, to the point of reprogramming software to enhance visual, spatial and sound effects. Not discounting female artists, many males are interested in the challenges of digitally and electronically produced art (the talented geeks composing electronic music and films in their bedrooms and garages are generally men). 

I’ve noticed that these are predominantly the people working as technicians in our public art galleries: Ngā Toi Arts Te Papa, Christchurch Art Gallery Te Puna o Waiwhetu, the Centre of Contemporary Art Toi Moroki, to name just a few. And these guys are fabulously talented. 

How do you produce an artwork consisting of multiple video files (aka multi-channel screens), and multiple audio files (aka multi-channel audio), which need the timing synced so the moving images automatically start at different consecutive times, and you can turn it all on with the push of a few buttons? Also important to note is that you only have a tiny budget and not quite enough projectors with the correct specs required for the particular artwork. 

Get a multi-media artist to be your technician. He will most likely be male – that’s still just how things are with this kind of work (for many sociological reasons, which I won’t delve into in this post!). Your technician is smart, innovative and can do basic coding (adapting software might be required since you have such a small installation budget). Your tech will even take leave from his ‘normal’ job to work for you for a few months. Sound too good to be true? 

Ask someone with the aforementioned attributes and you’ll no doubt get a ‘Yeah sure, sounds like fun, shouldn’t be a problem.’ ‘Fun’ wouldn’t be my description of time-pressured multi-media installation. But for these guys, problem solving their way through techy installation challenges gives them their kicks. They also add a bunch of much-needed testosterone to public art gallery teams. For galleries who employ technicians on short-term contracts, this injection of male presence is a breath of fresh air. It enhances a sense of perspective and calm – thanks guys. 

With our sector heavily skewed towards female workers, I’m saying ‘yay’ for our technicians (who generally happen to be men), our administrators and volunteers (who generally happen to be female) and the artists (of whom there’s a fairly balanced mixture). 

You’re fabulously talented and hardworking James Oram, Mike Boulden and Toshi Endo! These guys installed the first exhibition of the new Centre of Contemporary Art Toi Moroki which reopened on 13 February 2016 in Christchurch. This exhibition is now deinstalled, but the second exhibition will open on 21 May 2016! Find out more at www.coca.org.nz.

[claireadeleb]

The Wee Shocial – memories from the bath

A few arrived early.

Wearing a thick white bath robe, I was wandering in and out of the gallery. I was boiling jugs of water – one boiled much slower than the other – not enough time to wait. I topped up the stained bath with more buckets of cold water.

I could see Gaby making the finishing touches to the array of foods surrounding him on the high trellis table. He was wearing this crazy stocking mask illustrated with the inner workings of a face. The cheek muscles caught my eye.

Audrey came over to me. “It’s 7pm. Are you ready?”

“Yes, that’s just enough water to cover me. I’m getting in.”

It’s a funny dance between taking your robe off too quickly or too slow. You don’t want it to look like a strip show, slowly slipping fabric off your shoulders flirtatiously. And you don’t want it to look so rushed that you come across incredibly nervous and awkward.

I stood up straight, took off the robe with an “I can’t see you, it’s my bath time” kind of attitude. I neatly hung the robe on the clothes rack and got in. It wasn’t very hot (at all).

I lay curled up with my back to the ceiling. I thought “good, there is enough water”.  I felt covered*.

I started the breathing – blowing bubbles out underwater and gasping for air as I reached my neck upwards. Bowing down to blow out: reaching up to gasp air in. Rolling to the left side, arms folded at the elbows and tucked up covering my breasts, hands together like twins under my chin. Rolling onto my front again, bowing, reaching. Rolling onto my right side, arms tucked, legs folded up.

I did this for eighty-five minutes. Meditative.

I had my eyes closed. I had no idea if anyone was near me, watching or even interested. I assumed they weren’t. I couldn’t hear much. Once I heard my cousin’s laugh. I knew that laugh. I hear it at home. All other noise was a blurry background hum.

The bath was the perfect width to cocoon me. I took on a fetus persona. I moved my hands slowly, letting them float in the water by my face. I imagined an umbilical cord attaching me to side of the bath. Then I’d reach for more air.

I was getting colder and colder. “How much longer can I stand this?” I thought.

Not much longer.

I rolled slowly onto my back with my knees bent up and my hands clutched crossed over my chest.

I could breathe at a normal rate. I enjoyed this for a moment. No more gasping. Just breathing without strain, and gazing at the harsh light and abundant oxygen around me.

I had been born. There was the world. I could see and hear the people. I felt expectation from them, well really, from myself. The meditation was over.

I focused my attention on the beautiful pale green moss hanging above me and the bath. Breathing. Listening to the deep growling sounds of the moving image projected onto the wall half way across the room.

I got up slowly and reached for the robe hanging on the rack in front of me. I was very conscious of my nakedness then.

* Really, my whole back was exposed.

Claire Baker, ‘Fetus Our Future’. Photo: Motoko Watanabe. Taken 1 April 2015

Fetus Our Future Nature - nurture Beauty - breath Fertility - femininity Mother earth - motherhood Sustenance - sustainability

Claire Baker is a "self-taught" artist who enjoys blending different art forms, such as performance art and painting, to enhance themes of interconnectedness, relationships, growth and change between people and their environments.

Written by: Claire Adele Baker on 1 May 2015

[claireadeleb]

“Galleries don’t return great (monetary) profits”

"...Galleries don't return great profits; no one becomes a millionaire running an orchestra; and the best way to get value out of an old building is to turn it into boutique apartments...

But it's a very narrow way of looking at our world and our society. Our artists and creators may not do much for our GDP, and our historic architecture may only bring in a few tourists, but they are a central part of our identity. We're more than the jobs we have and the clothing brands we wear. We're a product of our history, and our landscape, and our culture."

The above are well-put points from Ross Henderson’s opinion piece about the opening of the Len Lye Centre in New Plymouth: 

http://www.stuff.co.nz/taranaki-daily-news/opinion/70505453/ross-henderson-what-do-the-len-lye-centre-and-mt-eden-prison-have-in-common