On public view at pedestrian level is ‘Monument’ (2012), a towering sculpture by Manchester/Berlin artists Nick Crowe & Ian Rawlinson composed of stacked drums from a Pearl rock drum kit. Addressing through stature and title physical structures, the work equally refers to the recuperation of individual agency, freedom and individual expression, concerns of both contemporary life and rock music culture. Literally relating to rhythm through its components, ‘Monument’ equally points the precarity of repetition through its delicate stacking of each drum in the kit, an analogy for the sensitive collapse of structures. Moving into the space, a set of three dynamic ordinary printers positioned on three ascending parallel shelves periodically jut out sheets of printed A4 paper. Pointing to quotidian repetition, ‘24 Hours Being Others’ (2017) by Indonesian collective Tromarama connects with the site’s future purpose whilst pointing to individual rhythms as dictated through technology, conditions of labour, urban structuring and habit. Interactive, guests are welcome to pick up, read and keep one of the papers, which spell out sporadic texts in pseudo poetic form that relate to contemporary living.

Lining the rightmost wall is ‘Kulturbüro’ (2015) by Lisbon/Hong Kong-based artist João Vasco Paiva, a grid selection of riso prints Paiva collected in Zürich from an office that conducted colour tests for institutions publishing material for exhibitions, concerts and further cultural affairs. Amassed, organised and serially displayed, the tests – unclaimed over a period of six months – compel a reconsideration of what we assign value to aesthetically, how and why, whilst also pointing to ‘non-places’ and things. Furthermore, due to their tri-tonal quality, ‘Kulturbüro’ echoes a sense of aesthetic rhythm whilst alluding to the future incarnation of the current exhibition space as equally referenced by ’24 Hours Being Others’. Further marking the space is the site-specific installation ‘Natural Border’ (2017) by Manchester artist Katerina Eleftheriadou. Flowing from the brick wall in an extended straight line across the raw concrete floor, the work is neatly divided in bi-tonal stripes to resemble urban patterns or common street signage such as zebra crossings. Seemingly composed of pebbles, ‘Natural Border’ is actually an assemblage of different varieties of garlic cloves, a material detail that leaves the viewer wavering between attraction and seduction, aggression and repulsion. Vulnerable in its ephemerality, the repetitive sequence points to the precarity of borders, how these can shift, be violated, the work existing as a negotiation between aesthetics, materiality and politics.

Spread across the space are various moving image works. On a monitor, Hong Kong artist Kwan Sheung Chi’s film ‘One Million’ (2012) plays on repeat, showing notes in different currencies systematically counted up to one million. Through force of recurrence the act becomes trance-like, mesmeric, whilst pointing to capitalism, power, obsession and what drives society as well as urban change. In displayed relation, screened across the central white wall, is ‘One Square Mile’ (2016) by Manchester artists Chris Paul Daniels & Sam Meech, a surreal instructional video for sociologists, film-makers and property developers looking to “rightly read an area”. Juxtaposing filming techniques, a soundtrack and narration, the film – dotted around Manchester – hints at the rich diversity of urban spaces whilst demonstrating the absurdity of trying to represent them in any meaningful way. Further, projected onto a wall in a darkened room, is Hong Kong artist Ko Sin Tung’s film ‘24 Tubes’, which shows two hands holding a fluorescent beam – identical those lighting construction zones – then letting them go, the immediate release solely being captured allowing your mind to compute the imminent fall, a motion that repeats itself with undefined by assumed conclusion.

Ultimately, ‘Polyrhythmia’ acts as a portal for considering everyday life in places amid flux, how bodies and complex environments each participate in the formation of entangled, pluralistic rhythmic fields.

‘Polyrhythmia’ is presented by Edouard Malingue Gallery curated with Marianna Tsionki (Research Curator CFCCA, and University of Salford) in collaboration with Magnus Quaife (Lecturer, Manchester Metropolitan University), HOME, Castlefield Gallery, CFCCA, and University of Salford.

‘Polyrhythmia’ is presented at Castlefield Gallery New Art Spaces: Great Northern Tower [Unit 3]. New Art Spaces is an initiative to create dynamic project spaces for artists, artist collectives and artist development agencies. Making use of temporarily vacant retail, office and light industrial units, New Art Spaces provides opportunities for emerging creatives to incubate their practices, produce work and showcase new art to local communities. Castlefield Gallery currently runs New Art Spaces in Bolton, Leigh, Rochdale and Manchester City Centre.

The title TAKE OFF refers to the structure of the exhibition itself, which transforms the gallery space into an international airport in the imagined nation of the People’s Republic of Dreamland (PRD). Elaborating on a theory established by the French anthropologist Marc Augé (1935-), Lin Jingjing explores the current and future ramifications of airports and their facilities as “Non-Places,” where identity as an independent individual becomes utterly insignificant. She submerges audiences into her absurdist and imagined future airport where, despite extravagances and leaps in technology, troubling reflections on our current world are laid bare. Through a carefully weaved series of connections, several of the artworks in the show function in relation to one another and collectively produce a powerfully critical narrative.

A quietly terrifying component of the show is the advertisement for a completely fabricated, but not unimaginably powerful mobile phone application. Presented as a light-box identical to ones found in airports across the world, Superzoom publicizes an app that is highly recommended by－and in fact produced by－the PRD government. It promises to assist an individual with quicker passage through customs and to make new friends as well as business connections. However, this is achieved only at the cost of forfeiting the entirety of your private information. Through Superzoom Lin Jingjing makes it clear that although the information age has allowed access to incredible new experiences, it also has exposed our personal information unreservedly, making it easy for private information to be stolen and violated, rendering the individual defenseless.

In response to Superzoom there is a more discretely presented advertisement for an app called Perfect ID. Produced by a company called My Quality Life LLC, Perfect ID is a crack for the Superzoom app. It prevents monitoring and forges relevant information to compromise attempts at data gathering. It promises to provide technology that disrupts Superzoom at any time. However, as the app interferes with government attempts to gather information, My Quality Life LLC must not advertise their app explicitly. They are forced to publicize in more subtle ways and this includes sponsoring public service advertising.

Critical Thinking Matters: It’s Time to Reinvent, Rethink, Re-strategize, and Grow is one of these public service advertisements. Sponsored by My Quality Life LLC, the advert appears to encourage positive social thinking, yet it is also a veiled criticism of the Superzoom app. Once viewers piece together that the promotional message is linked with Perfect ID, they realize that the system at work is similar to the commercial interests and ideals of our current social reality, where despite clear rules and cultural understandings, there is a long standing series of unspoken rules that govern business and politics.

The largest artwork in the show is comprised of twelve colorful, transparent, and hollow boxes made of acrylic glass that are arranged in a line to form a row of rainbow-like colors. Titled This Is the Beginning of My Desperation, the boxes have texts from twelve self-help and motivational books cut out of their fronts and backs. The text includes the names of the books, authors, and publishing houses, as well as attractive promotional messages. Referencing the astounding quantity of self-help publications produced, Lin Jingling prompts viewers to contemplate the extent to which we yearn for joy and happiness, and to also consider the deep helplessness many feel. The urgent nature of the texts on the colorful boxes and the emptiness of the boxes themselves form a paradox that Lin Jingling hopes exposes larger ideas regarding contemporary society and identity.

C2 (North Area, Shenzhen OCT-LOFT, Nanshan District), Dec 2, 2016–Mar 2, 2017

The Third Independent Animation Biennale opened on December 12, 2016 at C2 in Shenzhen’s OCT-LOFT. Compared with the scale of a typical biennale, this independent animation biennale comes across as a little small. In order to make the exhibition look the part, the curator has delineated six areas—for showing art, for lectures, for community activities, and so on—in an attempt to show diversity and distinguish this exhibition from the workings of a regular group exhibition. But over an exhibition period spanning several months, only the “Spatial Animation” component of the biennale, showing in C2, is open to the viewing public of the surrounding neighborhood. “Special screenings” and “Animations and Concerts” take place a ten-minute car ride away from OCT station at Artron Art Center; a “recommended screening” providing a platform for “post-90’s” artists will be shown only at the closing of the exhibition on March 2, 2017 (hastily arriving, hastily departing). As for the “GIF Online Project”, audience members must log onto the internet themselves to view it (the experience is not ideal, as the page loads too slowly). All of this leads to ready disappointment; after viewing the twelve works in C2, one feels there is something lacking, searching in vain for some sign in a corner that would read “more this way.”

The theme of the exhibition is “Time Based / Non-places”. “Time Based” comes from an expression used by many Western art museums today to describe video, film, slides, sound, and other contemporary works of art possessing a “time-based” dimension. This feature manifests itself across the variety of works exhibited. Meanwhile, “non-places” is a term coming from French sociologist Marc Augé, referring to temporary anthropological spaces—such as highways, hotels, airports, and supermarkets. It is used here, it seems, to point out the temporary nature of the exhibition space. It would appear that any medium of art could be included under such a theme, and that any kind of impermanent exhibition space could be the venue. This makes the experience of attending Shenzhen’s Third Independent Animation Biennale just like attending any large scale new-media art exhibition. What’s more, the information covered by the English title, “Time based / Non-places” is not held up in the title in Chinese. The Chinese title’s brevity seems to act as sheer barometer for the erudition of its reader.

Fortunately, the design of the exhibition is less unwelcoming. Green plastic grass covers the front wall outside C2, serving as the backdrop to a large open space. The climate in Shenzhen at this time of year is pleasant; the site will become a place for tourists to rest and take photos. This layout lends itself to a greater level of intimacy between the artwork and the community. The circular wall panel gives those who have not yet entered the exhibition a peek inside, and gives visitors going in a different way of viewing the outside world. On getting inside, audience members will notice that there are no wall partitions between the works, allowing one to walk freely among them. But the inter-mixing of sound affects this experience significantly. The exhibition layout boasts of one other highlight: the names of the works are projected onto the ground, so that viewers can clearly read the information on each work in the dark space.

刘毅，《一只乌鸦叫了一整天》 / Liu Yi, “A crow has been calling for a whole day”

The piece that most interests me is Liu Yi’s “A Crow Has Been Calling for a Whole Day”. Here, Liu Yi does not use flat white curtains or walls to project his images. Instead he uses bedsheets held up by two bamboo poles stuck into concrete and iron drums. This is, to an extent, a homage to life in India, the place from which the work draws its inspiration following a trip there by the artist. Liu Yi puts these curtains in a “Z” shape, billowing in the wind produced by a fan. In the film, real images are interspersed with hand-drawn 2D animations, sometimes bringing us into a dream, sometimes back into reality. The floating bedsheets seem to embody the physical dynamics of the train in the film, and the images painted on the sheets could be echoes of the film’s scenes as a counterpoint to them, or otherwise. Liu Yi’s work is, in this way, a multi-layered experience. Another pleasant surprise is Shao Zhifei and Sarah Kenderdine’s “Pure Land AR”. The artists have reproduced murals from Dunhuang’s Mogao Cave number 220 (part of a network in Gansu Province) in an on-site warehouse and constructed an immersive viewing experience via iPad: the viewer moves it up and down, and the image changes correspondingly, presenting a view from the given angle. The space of the warehouse versus that of the cave, the space of reality versus that of virtual fiction: all is cleverly linked. Placing oneself here is a bit like traveling through time and space. In addition, when the viewer brings the iPad nearer to the mural, some of the instruments portrayed will appear vividly in paint and ring out with sweet music. The artists have planted little “Easter eggs” like this throughout the work, increasing viewers’ participation.

莎若•肯徳丁，邵志飞（澳大利亚），《人间净土——扩增实境版》 / Sarah Kenderdine, Jeffrey Shaw, “Pure Land AR”

On the night of the opening, the parking lot behind the gallery served as an open-air cinema, playing a projection of Qiu Anxiong’s new work “New Book of Mountains and Seas: Part 3″—a continuation of his past investigations into the relationship between industrialized society and the natural environment. Shown alongside Qiu’s work are five animated shorts selected by the Fantoche animation festival in Switzerland. Neighborhood residents also gathered after dinner to watch. The responses of the audience, especially the children, were telling. “New Book of Mountains and Seas”—labelled as a piece of contemporary art—is impenetrable, while the simple animated shorts—seen by contemporary artists as outside their circle—in fact drew peals of laughter from the audience and proved the most resonant.

Animation, as an art form between painting and film, has developed to a point where it is no longer limited to hand-painted two-dimensional work. Its manifestations are diverse: from the currently popular 3D animation to a combination of virtual reality and reality itself. From its inaugural exhibition to now, its third, this exhibition has gradually lost most of its relationship to the original thematic medium of animation, and only really retains“images” as a category. Most apparently, the “painterliness” of the animations becomes dispensable, as with the work “Pulp Landscape III” by Hu Weiyi, whose animated images are just mechanical reproductions with no skill in the way of modeling. Beyond this, the work presents real images and aims its lens at the objective world as opposed to a space fixed by the artist. As a result, the boundaries between animation, video, and film have become blurred. Or, as with Aaajiao’s “Double”—an installation comprised of plastic film and LED lights—if the projection of light onto film is indeed considered a presentation of image, then calling this an image installation seems more appropriate than calling it an animation.

Overall, the Chinese artists participating in the Third Shenzhen Independent Animation Biennale are familiar faces, and the exhibition tends to remain within the scope of contemporary art, rather than that of animation specifically. Here, “independent” might as well mean “cutting edge,” “avant-garde,” or “unofficial” as pertains to contemporary artistic practice (the curator’s selection is mostly based on his background in new media art research). The Third Shenzhen Independent Animation Biennale therefore seems most concentrated on presenting contemporary artists’ explorations into and innovations around so-called animation as part of their wider work.

徐文恺（Aaajiao），《双重》 / Xu Wenkai (Aaajiao), Overlap

胡为一，《低级景观3》 / Hu Weiyi, Pulp landscape III

卡特琳•比约卡（德国、意大利），《与四维相会》 / Catherine Biocca, Meeting 4D

安吉拉•瓦诗蔻（美国），《医者（魔兽世界性别敏感性与行为意识处）》 / Angela Washko, Healer (The Council on Gender Sensitivity and Behavioral Awareness in World of Warcraft)

大卫•奥锐利（爱尔兰、美国），《全部》 / David O’Reilly, Everything

艾德•弗奈立（英国），《精神：肉身盛宴》 / Ed Fornieles, Der Geist Flesh Feast

陆扬，《忿怒金刚核》 / Lu Yang, Wrathful King Kong Core

帕特•奥尼奥（美国），《轻身而出》 / Pat O’Neill, Easy Out

孙逊，《鲸邦实习共和国》 / Sun Xun, The Republic of Jing Bang

伊夫•内茨哈默（瑞思）&伯恩特•舒尔（德国），《云的陵园》 / Yves Netzhammer & Bernd Schurer, Cemetery of Clouds

Edouard Malingue Gallery is pleased to present ‘Near and Elsewhere’, a solo exhibition of Hong Kong-based artist João Vasco Paiva (b.1979, Portugal) that explores the aesthetic qualities unconsciously-created by a city’s public collective. A graduate from the Porto Arts Institute, João Vasco Paiva moved to Hong Kong in 2006 to complete a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Media. Upon graduation with distinction in 2008, João Vasco Paiva set to create works in multiple mediums, which consistently explore how urban spaces may serve as catalysts for aesthetic production. While João Vasco Paiva’s practice is intrinsically tied to Hong Kong, his work resounds with dense urban environments around the globe, which he systematically documents, analyses, abstracts and reduces to create a codified interpretation that is simultaneously an artwork. At the heart of João Vasco Paiva’s practice is thus an interest in finding an order and inner logic to urbanity’s intrinsic complexity.

‘Near and Elsewhere’ reconsiders from an aesthetic perspective the objects and entities that metropolitan citizens collectively create, form and use to subsequently neglect or discard. From the boarded-up shop fronts camouflaged by a collage of ads, to cast-off plexi-glass strips and mark-ridden fences used to prop severed wood, João Vasco Paiva examines these detruded objects and considers their geometric qualities. By their interaction with multiple individuals, from shop-owners to real estate agents and carpenters, João Vasco Paiva remarks how each entity has unconsciously developed a visual quality that extends their value beyond their original use. As such, ‘Near and Elsewhere’ presents a series of urban sculptures that are inspired by those shapes and objects that have unintentionally amassed an aesthetic output. These are complemented by a video, which addresses our progressive desensitising to commercial bombardment.

João Vasco Paiva, “Untitled (Lumberyard Array 3),” 2013, Acrylic on wood, 118 x 10 x 5 cm
周奥，《Untitled ( Lumberyard Array 3)》，2013年，丙烯 木材，118 x 10 x 5 公分

While created from and inspired by objects amassed in and around Hong Kong, each of the sculptures on display are crucially not to be understood as Marcel Duchamp-esque ‘ready-mades’. Indeed, a rigorous process of creation has underpinned each structure so that the final result is a distant variant of the original. Untitled (Lumberyard Array 3) (2013), for example, is in fact a collected fence that João Vasco Paiva has repeatedly cleaned and painted, till the point where their original texture and colour is of the past and the only signs of their previous life are the thin cuts cast upon them. Similarly, the plexi-glass structures, found in the various corners of the gallery space, present the unwanted debris in a new order where their arrangement has been purposely altered to initiate a novel viewing perspective. A Brief Moment in Time I (2013) is a wooden board that has been painted in subtle hues of white and beige to express the geometry that is created by the piling and layering of ads on shop fronts. Furthermore, the objects that resemble the styrofoam boxes used in wet markets are resin-casts, lined with painting tape, while his painting on pulp paper is inspired by pipes on the façades of buildings.

João Vasco Paiva, “A Brief Moment In Time I,” 2013, Acrylic on wood, Variable dimensions
周奥，《A Brief Moment In Time I》，2013年，丙烯 木板，可变尺寸

In addition to the reconsidered sculptures described above, João Vasco Paiva presents a couple of works that introduce further lines of tangential thought. The first are a series of floor sculptures that represent speed bumps. While they continue from the artist’s interest in identifying the aesthetic qualities of the mundane – a speed bump is something you literally pass over – João Vasco Paiva presents this object in a contemplative setting, which elicits reflection on how elements that are intrinsic to a city’s infrastructure and functioning are often ignored. The second work also addresses ignoral, but of a different kind: that caused by acceptance rather than lack of interest. The video Threshold (2013), shot in the commercial and congested areas of Sham Shui Po, Mong Kok and Causeway Bay, shows clips of eye-level landscape, blanked of all pieces of text so that all advertising is removed from vision. In juxtaposition with the other works in the gallery, the video urges a revelation: that so much of what we see is accepted within our periphery of vision, despite being visual pollution, while instead so much of what we do not look at twice, actually has aesthetic qualities and is worthy of contemplation.

João Vasco Paiva, “Threshold,” 2013, Video Still, 3 mins 27 secs
周奥，《Threshold》，2013年，錄像，3分27秒

Overall, ‘Near and Elsewhere’ encourages a thoughtful reconsideration of what we choose to see and how we interact with it. Inspired by Marc Augé’s discussion of ‘Non-Places’, João Vasco Paiva addresses, in artistic, tangible and visual form, how each person sees things differently: what is of importance to one individual is not necessarily to another. João Vasco Paiva thus presents the possibility, that if recast in an alternative form, and presented in an alternative setting, our perceptions of significance may be shifted: what was once ‘near’ may be cast to being ‘elsewhere’, and vice-versa.

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João Vasco Paiva is considered one of Hong Kong’s leading emerging contemporary artists and has been exhibited widely in museums as well as galleries from Hong Kong and Portugal to the UK, Australia, Hungary and New York. Recently, Paiva was featured in the seminal ‘Hong Kong Eye’ exhibition at the Saatchi Gallery in London and held a solo show at the Goethe Institute in Hong Kong. Upcoming shows include a solo exhibition at the Fundaçao Oriente in Macau. Furthermore, Paiva is the recipient of multiple awards, including the Hong Kong Emerging Artist Grant and the International Artist Support Grant awarded by the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation in Portugal.

ShanghART Beijing (261 Caochangdi, Old Airport Road, Chaoyang District, Beijing, China, 100015) Nov 23 – Dec 16, 2012

It doesn’t matter at what point one begins watching “Zero.” There is no narrative thread (the presence of one would indeed be a surprise in much contemporary video art), no apparent end or beginning, no trigger or closure. The camera is trained always on a single, attractive young woman. She is seen sitting in a sun dress teasing her hair in the breeze, a blue ocean behind her to the left as if to advertise a holiday; slow motion emphasizes an affected pleasure in the experience. The scenery is later rolled away by attendants. Elsewhere, she smokes, facing the camera, against a backdrop of nameless apartment buildings, or walks towards the lens along an unfinished road between concrete flyovers, away from a view of city blocks, chimneys and a cooling tower. A more filmic air is conveyed through scenes in which she is clad in a pleated black dress with white collar, her hair planted in 1950s waves (apparently the go-to guise for non-contemporary characterizations). In this performative attitude, she stands in the dappled light cast from branches onto a wall, or motionless in an anonymous modern stairwell. At one point, she looks at her own reflection in a spot-lit room, as if upon a stage; at another, faces the camera with hair slightly dishevelled and asks (her voice inaudible, the words subtitled), “Are you finding reasons for what you have done?” There are other dislocated pieces of dialogue — “I still can’t understand…”…“Shall we talk about something else?”… “My life is not only now.”

This slow-moving collage of scenes is not unengaging. One has the sense of continuity, yet without sequence. The sensation becomes like a narrative in itself moving vertically, rather than progressing horizontally though time. One is reminded, too, of different ways of seeing. These fragmented scenes appear more like the products of a glance — spare in content and with almost static compositions akin to photographic shots — yet they are presented in drawn-out fashion, as if objects of the gaze. Wanting is the depth of curiosity, wonder or pleasure that usually attends this manner of looking, for these scenes are shallow, often frontal and not without vanity, pivoting around an attractive character and carefully crafted views of the sea, a stage or urban vista. The compulsion to continue looking at them seems to stem from this visual and temporal disjuncture, as the expectation of a culmination quickly evaporates.

Zhu Jia’s work has long been concerned with urban states both social and physical, using video to create pieces that emulate and perpend the multifaceted existence of contemporary cities. “Zero” is described in the exhibition’s introduction as emphasizing the gap between the recollection of memories and “the virtualized construction of today’s reality,” and how this affects one’s judgment.  The marriage between subjectivity and temporality or “timescapes” discussed in a recent response [1] to John Berger’s essay “Field” [2] is particularly useful relative to video (as a time-based art), and the contemporary city — the site of multiple realities and successive, glancing interactions not unlike the encounter with digital information. Berger in his essay uses the example of stopping to look at a field, ignoring for a moment one’s own activity and time in order to notice those unfolding within the realm of the field. In so doing, one opens oneself to the possibility of other times, freeing perception from the obligations of response and engagement which so much of contemporary life, flooded with information and stimuli, demands. As such, to gaze upon a specific “timescape” other than one’s own is a highly subjective act that denies the onrush of the singular time frame of the virtual world. This manner of focusing attention quietly upon some other scene therefore becomes an “experiment in freedom” [3] and a source of self-identification, because “The fragmentation of attention diminishes the quality of our presence, and we are never fully in one place. Without attention we are lost.” [4]

Might these ideas be applied to Zhu Jia’s work in “Zero”? We are also told in the introduction that “the work reflects an introspective attitude towards the conception of ‘self.’” Could these strange gazing frames, which arguably offer us little more than would a glimpse,  imply, in the manner Berger suggests, the dissolution of attention, and in turn the effective displacement of the subject. The girl seems rootless indeed, posing and pausing within shots that inscribe fairly generic sites. These are the non-places of contemporary life — particularly in China, where contemporary cities, having sprung up so fast and in tandem with historical erasure, tend to look much the same.  We cannot place this woman in the frame; her reality is a simultaneous, self-conscious one of different guises and states — she often faces the camera directly as if appealing to its gaze, always aware of herself  (a reflection of the omnipresent media “eye”) yet ultimately dis-placed, just as the scenes framing her are somehow de-placed, lacking reference or definition. The “timescape” of the environments she is in might as well be that of the video, spliced and vertical, and without progression.

Thus does “Zero” evoke the contemporary city and human subjects at stake within it. It is a reflection which bleeds into the environs of the gallery after one leaves and along the massive roads that strike between hundred-fold apartment blocks in Beijing — and other cities beyond it. Zhu Jia’s latest work subtly explores the blurring of distinctions between individual and collective timescapes, glimpses of the city, the dis-placed contemporary gaze and the individual subject whom it is no longer able to distract, and who dissolves against its backdrops.