Visual Art
REVIEW FILM DUNCAN CAMPBELL: MAKE IT NEW JOHN Tramway, Glasgow, until Sun 14 Mar ●●●●●
The iconic gull-winged DeLorean DMC- 12 sportscar, famed for its appearance in Back to the Future, was the object of affection that triggered Glasgow artist Duncan Campbell’s initial interest for his new film. A nostalgic amalgam of 1980s fetishisation, America’s ‘right to drive’ and the elevation of the automobile as sacred object is all wrapped up in the macho mythology of one man: John DeLorean.
Through a fusion of original footage and cinema vérité style documentary, Make it New John tells the story of American car engineer DeLorean and the rise and fall of his DMC car- manufacturing plant, set up in Belfast with public money in 1981 (the British government contributed 70% for a mere 4% equity). This uncommon cinema style
provokes a challenging reflection of both its subject matter and that of retrospective representation. Strangely reminiscent of our current economic gamble, this 50-minute film spans several decades, ending in a closing sequence wherein factory workers tell of their fears of redundancy. What first appears to be archival footage is soon revealed as a scripted piece: the dialogue seems choppy, the interaction between characters staged, and the actors themselves become a parody of their re-enactment. It is astounding to witness that even after his misuse of public money and allegations of embezzlement were exposed, the workers still refuse to blame John DeLorean for the closure of the factory. Are they too completely hypnotised by this uncanny equation of chrome with sex? (Talitha Kotzé)
www.list.co.uk/visualart
REVIEW PHOTOGRAPHY STEFFI KLENZ: NUMMIANUS Street Level Photoworks, Glasgow, until Sat 27 Mar ●●●●●
Red-bricked Lego blocks build up seemingly endless façades of vacant terraced houses – boarded up, echoing displacement and post-industrial decline, they fail to bare remnants of the lives of previous inhabitants. These are the kind of dead houses where secrets are buried. The Wire’s Baltimore cops would have a field day moving in to knock down the boards in their quest for a magnitude of missing bodies.
The exhibition consists of a series of photographs taken in the Greater Manchester area where German- born, London-based photographer Steffi Klenz discovered entire estates of abandoned houses. The way her exhibition is dedicated to showcasing these homes becomes a cenotaph in memory of people’s former lives.
The title Nummianus was taken from an inscription found on the floor of the Siricio house in Pompeii. Refering to the name of one of the wealthiest trading companies at the time, it translates as ‘coin’ or ‘money’. The artist attempts to link the empty, devalued commodity estate to the city of Pompeii through the reference to Pompeii-red – a colour now
branded after excavations revealed that the walls of Pompeii’s affluent houses were painted in red to signal their status.
Just as detailed evidence unearthed that everyday life in the ancient town was a lively affair, so too the artist highlights an ambivalent similarity between the two places, comparing the eruption of Vesuvious with the destruction of working class communities by Thatcher. Shades of red in repetitive ruin, a haunting town
unwilling to call the ghosts from its brickwork, Klenz’s Nummianus becomes a palimpsest: an imagined photographic-scape in the same way that the estate houses lie vacant in their architectural environment and in much the same way that Pompeii boasts an archaeological archive today.
Continuing her exploration of ghost towns, the artist is showing a related series of photographs, La Posa, at the Goethe Institute in Glasgow. These are located in the village of Tyneham in the South West of England, which was repossessed by the army for whom the village became an obstacle for their military manoeuvres in 1943, displacing the population of 225 people. The images are quiet, crisp, textured colourscapes
on which new stories can be projected. (Talitha Kotzé)
REVIEW DRAWING DRAWING FOR INSTRUCTION: Talbot Rice Gallery, Edinburgh, until Sat 6 Mar ●●●●●
While the presentation at first appears haphazard, Drawing for Instruction draws the viewer deep into the space on a journey through an Edinburgh history of buildings, musical instruments and even the brain. Edinburgh College of Art displays a selection of rough work from past and contemporary students that depicts anatomy, portraiture and animals among other themes. These pieces are jigsawed together into one large being that reaches far above head-height, making close inspection somewhat difficult. Turn left, however, and you are greeted by the Royal (Dick) Veterinary School section, a larger than life combination of paintings on cloth that used to be lecture aides and equine drawings relating to anatomy. Further into the gallery, the plans and artefacts from the School of Architecture, and those of the Edinburgh University Collection of Historic Musical Instruments are admittedly carefully constructed but less memorable than these earlier rooms.
It is the upper level of the exhibition that really engages. The Lothian Health Services Archive has
selected work including the musings of two psychiatric patients from the late 1800s. Here we see how the process of drawing can work backwards to create an impression of the self and offer an insight into the beauty of madness. William Bartholomew (1819-1891) and Andrew Kennedy’s (1825-1899) work resides alongside commissioned portraits of other in-patients and would not look out of place in a contemporary exhibition. In fact, this fascinating theme might warrant a show of its own. A neat finish consisting of medical and botanical drawings, combined with the contribution from the
School of Chemistry (including a 3D display) pulls back a semblance of order from the chaos of the lower level – but the lasting impression is created by the Health Services Archive. (Miriam Sturdee)
18 Feb–4 Mar 2010 THE LIST 89