a gallery presents


Fuck Now Suffer Later PJF 5/4/12

Filed under: Art, FASHION, MUSIC, the story of a gallery, Uncategorized

The Quiet Grief of Men 27/3/12

Filed under: Art

The Quiet Grief of Men ONE NIGHT ONLY 27/3/12

a gallery presents Auckland based, Dunedin born photographer Neil Satori in a special ONE NIGHT ONLY photography exhibition and screening, The Quiet Grief of Men, at a gallery 393 Princes street on Tuesday 27th March at 6pm …

 Not afraid to explore the personal and the intimate in his photography, Neil Satori’s primary influence has been a series of workshops held at AUT University since 2006 featuring French photographer Antoine D Agata,  Dutch photographer Rineke Dijkstra, Paul Graham and American photographers John Gossage,  Alex Soth, Lewis Baltz and Todd Hido.

“I was influenced by what those photographers had in common, each of them an empathy with the human condition and I was encouraged by South African photographer Pieter Hugo (Nollywood) and Quentin Bajac, Chief Curator of Photography at the Centre Pompidou in Paris to publish images I’d shown at the workshop earlier this year. I’m delighted to be doing this in Dunedin for the first time, it’s a discerning audience”. Neil Satori

The Quiet Grief of Men will be a New Zealand entrant in the Dummy Book Awards for unpublished photographic books at the 5th International Fotobook Festival in Paris in April.

Filed under: Art

loosely based on a series of….(kind of, but not really) Review by Martyn Pepperell vanguardredmagazine.co.nz 20/3/2012

In the weekend, suddenly struck by a sense of having spent too much time working, and not enough time living, I decided to get amongst it all for a couple of days. I had some pretty big nights in the process and was in bed by 8.30pm on Sunday, but it was worth it.

Along the way, on Saturday night, I decided to get my Harry Smith on, and do some proper field research. In layman’s terms, this means shut the f^&k up and let the new people you’ve just met school you on their world, and their frame of reference. As a result, I was introduced to the art of Dunedin’s Jay Hutchinson, which viewed under the same light as my recent post about UK visual artist Christopher Labrooy, seems to form a continuum of sorts.

Academically decorated with a Masters from the Dunedin school of Art, Hutchinson currently runs a gallery down there called, somewhat hilariously A Gallery. Initially described to me as a tattooed punk hip-hop kid, and then a Jack Johnson style singer songwriter, I suspect he is quite the character. The descriptive language used about him, and the enthusiasm people spoke of him with lead to me, come Monday, getting my google on.

What I discovered was a series of works which speak on a multiplicity of levels, or as NZ Style Collective put it, “Through a meditative, labour intensive process Dunedin artist, Jay Hutchinson creates works which combine a delinquent nostalgia with a thoughtfully articulated conceptual backbone.”

To cut to the chase, he creates pieces which on first glance look like everyday school books, all tagged up by a bored (possibly stoned) teenager, who may or may not also indulge in in-class fingerboarding, and maybe even hiding iPod buds in their ears under impressive dreadlocks. On closer inspection though, it turns out that his classically adolescent book graffiti, has actually been painstakingly hand stitched onto digitally printed silk.

As you’re probably realising, this theoretical framework f^&ks with convention heavily. It suggests age reversals, gender role reversals, and blurs the line between fine and street art. In this thing we call life, nothing is every really concretely one or the other, it’s always a lot of this and a little of that, or visa versa. Hutchinson’s work holds a candle to this dualism and we should salute him for it.

You can view a gallery of his works to the left. Afterwards, check out the website for A Gallery below.


Filed under: Art

Caravaggisti Presents WORKING IN THE SHADOW Review by Franky Strachan Printed in the ODT 15/3/12

Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio was an Italian artist of the 16th and 17th centuries. He was of great influence to the baroque period in art history and has been said to have put “the oscuro (shadows) into chiascuro”.

Renowned in the art world for his psychological realism, dramatic use of lighting and more broadly for his “disorderly” lifestyle, Caravaggio had a reputation as something of a ruffian that has outlived him, making him the reference point for a group of male artists here.

Local artists Craig Freeborn, Danny Brisbane, Flynn Morris-Clark, James Colin Bellaney and Philip Madill are all either near-graduates, graduates, or masters of fine art respectively, and this exhibition is tied together by their mutual fixation on darker – that is, perceptively sceptical – realist themes. To say “realist” is not to suggest a stylistic trend. The works, with each artist presenting one or two pieces, range from Bellaney’s ostensibly abstract expressionist method, Madill’s punctilious, eerie (quasi-futurist) works in graphite and Freeborn’s thrilling acrylic portrayal of dumpster-diving through to Morris-Clark’s compelling, fleshy oil portraits and Brisbane’s graphic renditions of pop-culture icons.

There is no lack of talent, energy, or originality among these artists and this exhibition reveals only a glimpse of their creative facility.

Filed under: Art

Working in the Shadow, Craig Freeborn, Danny Brisbane, Flynn Morris-clarke, James Colin Bellaney and Philip Madill OPENING PHOTOS 8/3/12

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loosley based on a series of events that never actually happened REVIEW by Erin Driessen eyecontactsite.com 27/2/12

Jay Hutchinson is deeply interested in concepts surrounding memory and historical fabrication. His father is a photographer and Hutchinson’s childhood is fully documented. How many events of our childhoods (and beyond) do we actually remember solely from our own experience? loosely based on a series of events that never actually happened presents memories as after-images, filled in with fragments of stories and photographs, and with other people’s similar experiences. The school desk here is covered in layers of doodles and graffiti, built up by friends and visitors over a 3-month period before the exhibition opened. The wall-size chalkboard is covered in messages and drawings, most done at the exhibition opening, with some adding to it since then. The chalkboard is not listed as part of the work but is a crucial element in creating the school-room setting, a particularly evocative scene in that some of our most formative experiences happen during school years.

With one desk and one chair, both covered in ink doodles and sprayed stencils, the scene is one of ‘time out’ or detention. It felt a bit like a 3D photograph, as I moved around the familiar objects and freeze-frames of nostalgia freely flashed behind my eyes. They are objects snatched out of the past and imbued with the present. Some of the imagery is quite dark: “knife!!”, snarling dogs, a baby’s face scribbled out of a family photograph. However, it’s not off-putting; the imagery doesn’t scare us from imagining answers to questions like, “what happened here?” and “who wrote that?” Hutchinson has created a situation in which participants can choose to anonymously or openly share secrets, and he takes them all and creates layers of what becomes collective memory.

I immediately disagreed with what the title of the exhibition was trying to tell me. As a student in elementary school, I had sat at desks just like this one; I recognised the Superman symbol and the Slayer lettering from fourth form; I remembered lunchtime missions in seventh form to McDonald’s for $1 cheeseburgers: these events had actually happened. But then I had to agree – these doodles and strewn bits of ‘paper’ were from my memory, except they weren’t from my memory. And I looked around thinking these signs meant something to me, that they were part of my history, but they weren’t. They are familiar but utterly foreign. I have never seen a cheeseburger wrapper made from screen-printed silk, and I never did any of my doodling with thread.

Hutchinson’s work simultaneously is and isn’t, and so echoes some of the work by conceptual artists like Joseph Kosuth or Robert Barry. Kosuth famously presented a photograph of a chair, an ‘actual’ chair, and a definition of a chair side-by-side. An objective chair may differ markedly from a subjective chair. The representation of a chair is not really a chair. Hutchinson’s discarded exercise books and ripped-out pages are not made of paper, but you wouldn’t know it unless you picked them up. Then, does it feel the same to you as it feels to me? This exhibition taps into what is often the inadequacy of language to describe subjective, even if similar or universal, experience. At the same time as we feel comfortable around these objects, they remind us through their material that they are not ours.

Materiality and tactility: this work is made. The time put into these pieces, the detail and the technique (including the colour choices), are remarkable. Yet there is a refreshing and exciting yielding of control – in fact, it’s grin-inducing. Hutchinson encourages people to touch the work and play with its positioning. I got the impression he would probably just smile if I spontaneously frisbeed one of the exercise books across the room. Then again, there’s no way I’d try it. It’s surprising how with even the artist’s blessing I was still extremely wary of ‘doing art wrong.’ I still can’t believe I let ‘professionalism’ get the better of me, though. I want to go back and write on the chalkboard. I want to go back and see if there’s anything in the desk. I want to go back and turn the rubbish bin upside down.

The sparseness of the room, the spacing between the two works and the small number of objects leave room for the viewer to move both physically and mentally. Each bit of ‘paper’ is totally different as well, so each evokes a different response or triggers a different kind of memory. The time that went into making the works (Hutchinson has left the backs of his pages bare so we can view the loose threads) is matched by the time the viewer spends either experiencing or thinking about them. The textile element has no association of kitsch handicrafts or novelty. Hutchinson has created thoroughly contemporary and thought-provoking work. These pieces of memory are unequivocally present.

Filed under: Art