Suspended Gravity
: Flights of Fancy,The Universe of Ed Pien and Karin van Dam
May 11th, 2013 - June 23rd, 2013
Flights of Fancy
The Universe of Ed Pien and Karin van Dam
The title “Suspended Gravity” is one that cannot fail to stimulate the imagination. On the most elemental level, we can view it as a suspension of the natural laws — those which cause objects to return to the earth after being launched into the air — a cheeky challenge to the adage “What goes up must come down.” It’s an idea that is pregnant with possibilities. What happens when things do not come down, but merely pause like a freeze-frame, or hang empty like silence inserted into a piece of music? It is this state of “in-between-ness” that acts as a potent metaphor for our current urban condition. Living in cities in a globalized world we are constantly in a state of suspension — on the move, from one apartment to another, from one neighborhood to another, moving to a different city or even country. We are beings in a state of perpetual motion — feet high off the ground, not ever feeling fully grounded.
In fact the collaboration between the two artists is emblematic of this mutable sense of time, space and place. Ed Pien, was born in Taiwan but is based in Toronto; Karin van Dam resides in Amsterdam. The two met while on a residency program in Paris, and since that time, they have participated in a number of exhibitions together in various countries. Sharing ideas, over email and Skype, they worked to create a series of works which cross-reference each other to create interconnected webs of meaning between existing bodies of work and newly created pieces which were combined into a site-specific installation.
Their art makes for a natural fit in that both use the motif of webs, nets, tendrils and vines — things that hold and encompass other objects but also things which swing and dangle and struggle to get free from the whole. Ed Pien’s paper cuts for instance depict men and women suspended in a series of tied rope configurations. In “Enchanted,” the picture plane is crisscrossed with a series of webs that could just as easily be the veins of a tree or arteries of human skin or some other structure used to transport vital fluids. It is clear that they create some kind of net or network upon which human life can survive.
Within these webs reside lithe athletic women: one stands casually leaning against the ropes, another sits with her back arched, breasts forward, while another launches herself into a bridge with a thick mane of hair thrown wildly back. There is something seductive in their poses, but also empowering in the way they use their bodies. We see the same kind of confidence in the figures in “Suspend 3” and “Luft” — the German word for air. Amongst the webs, in “Luft,” is a series of rings that add to the element of performance in these works — we can almost imagine the crowds of people below gazing up in awe at their gravity-defying ballet. Meanwhile works such as “Enchanted” and “Daredevils” incorporate other props such as sandbags. This combination of ropes and sandbags immediately conjures up ideas of the theatre where sandbags are used in the rigging process to raise and lower sets. Their presence is reflected in the collaborative installation “Suspended Gravity,” 2013, produced specially for this exhibition.
The installation features the sculptural works of Karin van Dam “(Travelling Cities)” suspended on ropes from the ceiling and anchored to the ground with black sandbags designed by Ed Pien. The sandbags provide not only a visual tension but also a structural element to the installation — a counterbalance that is necessary to hold the works at a certain height.
Their somewhat stocky shapes mimic the cocoon-like knitted forms that hang from the ceiling. While van Dam’s cocoons convey a wispy nature, like silken seedpods with tendrils hanging down, the sandbags have a solidness; their practical coverings encase something weighty and functional. In contrast to van Dam’s other fantastical creatures — creations composed of doughnut-shaped boat fenders and inverted Chinese oil umbrellas wrapped in a spidery black fabric trim. The fenders, used to protect boats from bumping into docks are plastic circles filled with air, that give a sense of buoyancy to the piece — they make the works appear almost as if they are floating on water. Van Dam has been using boating materials in her work since 2002 and the fenders, combined with the anchor line buffers and the ropes, give us a sense of both floating and freedom as well as mooring and anchoring.
While Pien’s performance plays out in the air, van Dam’s could take place as easily in the depths of the ocean. There is something about the tendrils of black hanging off the spokes of her umbrellas that look like jellyfish or seaweed and the small cocoons could easily be mistaken for some kind of Proterozoic sea creature. What is so fascinating about van Dam’s work is the combination of an intuitive aesthetic with something man-made and clinical. The inclusion of objects such as plastic ties and gearshift boots (the covering that goes over a gear shift) lends an almost sci-fi impression to her work.
Adding to the sense of weightlessness are Pien’s oval panels. Black and white discs are given a patina of time by a fine application of sand paper and a light splashing of ink. They hang in the space and turn almost imperceptibly with existing currents of air — helping the viewer to feel the space in a more palpable manner. Oval discs placed on the walls help create the illusion that the installation extends beyond the borders of the concrete into the hallway.
Pien’s flat and sober ovals also contribute an aura of simplicity to the installation — most enchanting perhaps are the white ones which seem to almost blend into the wall or hang in space, barely visible in the bright glare of the sunlight. There is something ethereal about their presence as they float between visibility and invisibility.
It’s an installation that conveys nautical, organic forms of marine life, and at the same time there is something very architectural in the way it is configured. Complementing this installation is a series of untitled drawings by van Dam that appear to be preparatory or inspirational sketches. These works feature yurt-like forms that could double as haystacks or spaceships. Van Dam had titled an earlier drawing in the series “Tentenkamp” and they do indeed seem like a kind of nomad camp. There is movement — a frenzied character to the tents — which seem not only to be levitating, but also have objects hovering and rotating around them. Some works incorporate found three-dimensional pop-up elements such as rope, metal rings and shuttlecocks. It’s almost as if someone made an architectural preparatory sketch for an event such as Burning Man — a vision of a set of structures, which enable fluid movement, their circular forms and porous walls allow for intermingling — in other words, a perfectly interconnected city.
We see this concept revisited in her work “Traveling Cities: Born in a Balloon,” 2013 which first began as a project at the Audax Textile Museum Tilburg in The Hague where van Dam worked with technicians on industrial knitting machines to design cocoon-like giant black forms, knit in intricate patterns of single and double thread mohair.
These 4 meter long stocking shaped forms are then expanded through the use of special 1-m diameter balloons. Without the balloons these forms look like shriveled black snakes, or skins. The insertion of the balloons enacts a kind of magic whereby the patterns of the wool appear in stark relief — taut against the surface of the balloon. Van Dam also inserts a number of bamboo sticks that cause the cocoon-like forms to protrude in various directions and create a sense of violence or tension as the bamboo strains against the fine fibers of the mohair.
There is also something very remarkable in how they are installed in the gallery — attached to the wall and buttressed by bamboo poles and suspended by string. Van Dam takes great inspiration from the cities she works in and was particularly inspired by Shanghai’s own balletic brand of urban chaos. She perused local construction markets in search of appropriate materials, and though she discovered some very interesting finds, she returned to her original idea of using bamboo — a material that plays a prominent role in China’s construction industry. Van Dam and Pien then worked together to test out different arrangements first hanging the works in the center of the ceiling, then shifting them to the sides of the wall and finally securing some of the smaller pieces with thick bamboo poles and placing other free-standing bamboo poles in amongst the cocoon forms. The result is something of a hybrid between a bamboo grove, a silk worm plantation and construction site.
The installation is meant to be entered into, and by using the smallest space of the gallery, the artists have created a space somewhat similar to a traditional Chinese garden, with pathways which allow the gallery visitors a great number of interesting views as they turn and slowly adjust their perspective. At the same time, the cocoon-like pods evoke a futuristic city of sorts, where humans are freed from the limitations of square geometry and roads. The cocoons convey a sense of something mothering or embracing, or a community or being that may nurture one until they are mature enough to set off on their own.
Van Dam’s womb-like structures are juxtaposed with Pien’s free-floating women a few meters away. Black silhouettes of figures, very similar to those seen in the paper cuts, dangle precariously from the strings of one of van Dam’s oil umbrellas wrapped in mohair. This piece, created specifically for the show, is a summation of the idea of a city being a community; a place which, on one hand, may provide an umbrella of shelter and safety and in another way allows access to adventure for the insatiable individual who strays from the predictable and safe, seeking self actualization, novelty and inspiration. Thankfully, most cities are complex and dynamic organisms. They function as nets that can catch us when we fall and are not binding enough to trap us and prevent us from realizing our potential. It may be frightening to be so high up in the air, but exhilarating at the same time — I think most of us would agree it’s a risk worth taking in order to enjoy a greater depth of human experience.