Further Information

Milky Way Bar

I live at the edge of the universe,
like everybody else. Sometimes I think
congratulations are in order:
I look out at the stars
and my eye merely blinks a little
my voice settles for a sigh.

But my whole pleasure is the inconspicuous;
I love the unimportant thing.
I go down to the Twilight Arcade
and watch the Martian invaders,
already appalled by our language,
pointing at what they want.

Bill Manhire
First published in Milky Way Bar, VUP, 1991.

I live at the edge of the universe,
like everybody else.

Recently the Wellington art scene has undergone a growth phase with new galleries opening, new urban arts projects starting up and new artists bursting onto the scene. In a recent arts review in The Dominion Post (20 August 2004), arts writer Mark Amery commented on the energy in Wellington’s emerging art scene, which he partly attributed to the establishment of the School of Fine Arts at Massey University’s Wellington campus. Milky Way Bar is the third new Wellington artist show at City Gallery Wellington’s Michael Hirschfeld Gallery and this year’s exhibition explores the work of eight young Wellington artists, connected by time and place. Featuring work by Marina Cains, Ryan Chadfield, Daniel du Bern, Regan Gentry, Kim Paton, Gregory Sharp, Marnie Slater and Louise Tulett, Milky Way Bar highlights the present moment: it’s about what these artists are making, thinking and communicating now.

Sometimes I think
congratulations are in order:

Marnie Slater’s work addresses issues familiar to many young artists: the tension between wanting to be discovered and wanting to hide in the shadows. She has created a mini mountain with a step ladder and a white satin flag with the word ‘NOW’ embroidered into it. Viewers are faced with a choice: will they reach for the dizzying heights, or will they be stuck at the bottom, looking up. It is possible to relate this to being a young artist, trying to get into the right shows and getting your work out there. Slater seems uncertain where to place herself, as if she is asking the viewer, ‘are we there yet?’ The flag is a portable boundary marker, keeping track of the latest position.

Regan Gentry’s work tackles the nature of a new artist show head-on. Here he exhibits the latest work in an ongoing installation project called ‘Foot in the Door’—a project which enables him, literally, to get a foot in the door of art galleries throughout New Zealand. He started the project in 2003 by sending hundreds of letters to public and commercial art galleries and art-related institutions asking if he could install a foot length of measuring tape or ruler into their entrance door. Enterprising and audacious, the artist sees this work as ‘exploring the formalities of first professional contact between an artist and gallery’. At the exhibition’s opening, Gentry will insert one foot length of measuring tape into the roller door of the Michael Hirschfeld Gallery as a literal marker of his entry into the space as a young artist.

I look out at the stars
and my eye merely blinks a little,
my voice settles for a sigh.

Louise Tulett’s No small wonder is lit up in fairy lights. Rather than being an illuminating statement of spiritual or political importance, however, it is modest and deliberately at odds with the hyped up glamour of the bright lights.

But my whole pleasure is the inconspicuous;
I love the unimportant thing.

Daniel du Bern’s video work Back to Nature explores the genre of landscape painting so prevalent throughout New Zealand’s art history. By filming his work in the cultivated inner city bush which borders on the city, rather than in the midst of some scenic wonderland, du Bern subverts this tradition of great landscapes. He plays the prankster: a young male frolics in the town belt throwing cabbages into the vista.

A differently inclined meditation on Nature, Marina Cains has created an environment of birds flitting and fleeting across the gallery walls in a bewitching combination of wall tattooing, painting and paper screens. The sparrows are shown in various stages of flight and move across the gallery walls in a delicate and subtle way.

Ryan Chadfield’s Tooth Hat provides a sinister and creepy perspective on childhood with his cap made from children’s teeth. This work explores notions of memory in a very physical, visceral way—the formation of a child’s first tooth and, then, the loss of first teeth being associated with both pain and reward.

Gregory Sharp’s work Bad Vibrations is a curious mixture of sports socks, margarine and electronic footsteps. The total effect is like someone leaving out their dirty socks and the sound permeating the atmosphere like smelly socks stinking out a room. Sharp explores the feeling of constant anticipation: the sound track builds up but never delivers the desired climax.

Kim Paton describes her work The Same Bare Place (Stop and Sled) as being ‘active with potential but physically unreachable’. Her sled is modelled on a European designed toboggan, and in the context of the gallery, appears to be sitting patiently, waiting to be used.

I go down to the Twilight Arcade
and watch the Martian invaders,
already appalled by our language,
pointing at what they want.

The artists in Milky Way Bar are united by their shared experience of being an emerging artist in Wellington now. They are linked by time and place, and use the language of art to communicate to audiences what it’s like to ‘live at the edge of the universe, / like everybody else’. If Martian invaders were to visit Milky Way Bar, one wonders what they might think.

Sarah Farrar

Hirschfeld Gallery Curator