At the Kochi-Muziris Biennale, an all-encompassing canvas
Mikhail Karikis spent 11 months in the Isle of Grain in Kent, England watching closely the activities of the 11-13 year old boys in the region. At the end of it, he produced a 10-minute film
(Ain’t Got No Fear, 2016) on the lives on these children, their childhood adventures and what the future may hold for them. A rap song performed by the children in the film tells the story of their lives. Haunting music and vivid imagery bring alive the region’s harsh and bleak landscape — both in terms of the surroundings as well as the prospects of the children in the region. I watch the film twice and if time had permitted, I would watch it one more time. Rachael Maclean’s 24-minute loop,
Please Sir, is a comic adaptation of Mark Twain’s Prince and the Pauper. Playing out the story on two screens that face each other (requiring the viewer to be quite alert), the artist uses and mocks the jargon of capitalism through exaggerated performances. It takes two loops for uninitiated viewers like me to absorb the message of the film and appreciate its brilliance and humour. In other words, budget 50 minutes for this one installation alone.
A delightful four-minute video installation, Farewell, Spring and Autumn Pavilions (2015), is on display by Taiwanese artist Wu Tien-Chang. Although it is hard to follow the author’s message without some knowledge of Taiwan and the history of its armed immigration, the clip itself draws hundreds of viewers. The two times I watch it — both on different days — I struggle to get a clear glimpse from behind a sea of necks. A very hummable Taiwanese folk song accompanies the video.
At the third edition of the KochiMuziris Biennale in Fort Kochi, if you thought art was something that hangs on a wall, think again. Art is everywhere: in water, in games and puzzles that intensely involve the viewers, in films, in wooden benches that reverberate with sound, in patterns built with light-bulbs, in pictures of dead bodies dressed up in designer clothes. Phew. Art here is eclectic, esoteric, experiential, all-encompassing and requires tons of energy.
Energy is needed not just to absorb the art but to reach it, too. There are 97 artists representing 31 countries on show at 12 venues in Kochi, all within roughly a three-km walking radius in Fort Kochi (barring two venues) and Mattancherry. Sounds easy but the February sun makes it harder than you think.
The biennale this year is as experiential as it gets. You walk through Raul Zurita’s Sea Of Pain, getting your feet and legs wet to reach the poet’s message to Galip Kurdi, the brother of the boy (Alan Kurdi) whose poignant photograph in death made waves across the world in a stark reminder of the Syrian migrant crisis. You also walk through Ales Steger’s
The Pyramid of Exiled Poets (2016) — a challenge for those with even slight claustrophobia — a lady ahead of me only went through because I was close behind her and speaking to her every time it got too dark and narrow for comfort. Recordings of poems by various poets ring in your ears as you walk through the dark spaces.
You sit on benches that have music reverberating through the wood (Camille Norment’s Prime, 2016) and entering you from the lower half of your body while you stare out at the sea through a wooden framed door. A surreal experience to say the least.
Perhaps the corner that had the viewers most rivetted was Orijit Sen’s mixed media installation, Go Playces, where he uses detailed drawings of the state of Goa, a puzzle of the city of Hyderabad and a journey of what one encounters as one travels along the grand trunk highway as it cuts through Punjab. Extraordinary colour with remarkable detail and games that involve the audiences — many viewers I meet encourage me to play — makes it impossible for parents to tear their children away.
Among the exhibits, some of the work stands out for its painstaking effort and attention to detail. Dia Mehta Bhupal’s life size installation of an ordinary bathroom lends an aura and character to it. Only if you peer closely at a tile will you see and appreciate the painstaking effort put in by the artist for the 11 months that it took her to finish this single piece of work. Each tile is several sheets of paper, cut to size, rolled into shape and glued perfectly together. Hundreds of such tiles come together to form what your eye finally sees.
But to my mind one of the most stunning pieces was Chinese artist Dai Xiang’s The New Along the River During The Qingming Festival (2014), a digital photographic work of 115 cm X 2500 cm, which I learn took him four years to complete — a beautiful blend and contrast of ancient Chinese society and traditions with the contemporary China we see today. Again, only if the viewer spends a fair amount of time at very close quarters can you grasp the brilliance of the work.
If you have time on your hands, Pepper House (with a lovely café), a stone’s throw from Aspinwal, has a few arresting exhibits, including an intense short film by Spanish artist Javier Perez of a dancer balancing herself on a grand piano — a task made impossible by the special spikes in her ballerina shoes.
There are certain exhibits that stand out in terms of display. Sunil Padwal’s Room for Lies (2016) comprises 650 framed works, including photographs and drawings with lead pencils — many of ordinary everyday objects — but the attractiveness of the display holds the attention of audiences as the crowds in the room testify.
I watch many visitors walk into various installations, spend a couple of seconds, look around them blankly, shrug and walk out. That’s to be expected if you don’t spend the time required. There’s a reason the curator put the piece of work before you. If you look hard enough, you’ll find the reason.
I have been here for four days — although not all day at the festival alone — yet I find I need one or two more (I miss six of the 12 venues). Given time, I find most of the art here at the biennale makes sense and is, in fact, thrilling to the senses. Above all, it holds the power to convert a non-art lover into one.