A visit to the Biennale
At the risk of doing that thing where you write blog posts after you have been on an interesting and/or cultured outing, and so represent your life as more fascinating and sophisticated than it really is in cyberspace, yesterday I went to Cockatoo Island, with Susannah, to explore the 18th Biennale of Sydney.
Most of my photos were not so great. I have discovered that trying to take photos of large modern artworks in the midst of jostling crowds of people, where you can't necessarily get where you want to be or photograph what you want to photograph, you are trying not to be too annoying and you need to act fast to seize an opportunity, usually means you end up with a lot of dud pictures. But here is a sample.
Susannah in one of the old tunnels on the island.
We didn't actually get any sort of program or guide to the artworks, so we mostly wandered randomly about taking our own guesses at what the artworks were supposed to signify. I have included links, however, to give the artists credit and in case you want some real information. I did like this fluttering paper installation, by Monika Grzymala and Euraba Artists and Papermakers, catching the sunlight from old arched windows.
Some kind of styrofoam creation, by Peter Robinson, in the industrial precinct.
Sand lace (or domesticated turf, or industrial doilies), by Cal Lane.
A shipping container worked into a bird cage (not sure of the artist).Â
Something or other feathery by Philip Beesley (we didn't join the line to actually go in this one but I believe the artwork responds to human interaction).
The River, by Adam Cvijanovic.
I'll let you read the sign and work this one out.
In a convict cell, by Latifa Echakhch (possibly).
The Scar Project, by Nadia Myre.
Coloured paper things, by Li Hongbo.
A room full of drapey garment-esque pieces, nicely colour-arranged, by Erin Manning.
Afternoon rest and food (and I forgot to close down the aperture some when we got outside.)
English teacups amongst an aboriginal midden, by Jonathan Jones.
A ferry ride home (the ferry lines were long, and I made a joke on facebook about how it could all turn into Bob Dylan's Bear Mountain Picnic, but I think it was too obscure for most).
