If visiting Liverpool with no knowledge of what is currently taking place in the city, you would be forgiven for being somewhat confused by the large silhouettes of wolves prowling the streets. Whilst I am unsure of the relevance of wolves to Liverpool’s 6th Biennial, there is something very powerful about it’s branding. The appearance of the lurid black and red wolves across the city is intriguing and makes a bold statement about the importance of introducing international artists into the ever more multicultural society.
The wolves not only publicise the biennial, which claims to be the largest and one of the best attended in the world, but also help visitors to find each of the locations on the not so detailed or informative free map. If you’re going to visit, it’s probably best to purchase the guide.
Do Ho Suh’s Korean House situated between 84 and 86 Duke Street was pinpointed as one of the highlights of the Biennial but I never managed to see it. The exhibit is very easy to walk straight past without even realising you have just missed the unusual sight of a house quite literally shoved between two other buildings. The wolf signage and directions are brilliant for finding locations yet very inconsistent which can lead to disappointment, especially when staff are so very unhelpful. The Black-E and the Scandinavian Hotel both failed to stand out due to the lack of signage and technical faults meaning that I managed to miss both exhibitions within 50 yards of each other. These issues combined with a very wet, cold and windy Liverpool day were rather disheartening.
Possibly the most disappointing experience of the Biennial is the Liverpool Tate. The entire experience left little impact other than the burning question of “Why?!’ and a slight interest in the choice of Carol Ann Duffy to curate an exhibition in response to the DLA Piper Series: This is Sculpture. This has nothing to do with the ‘Touched’ exhibition and is only slightly more successful.
There are a few brilliantly executed and interpretable pieces of work throughout the Biennial but these were few and far between. The ‘Mending’ room, in the Rapid building on Renshaw street features damaged items of clothing provided by the public. These have been mended by the artist using brightly coloured threads, rather than a method that would disguise the cut or tear, which is both thought provoking and visually interesting. Aimé Mpane’s Ici on Créve is a display of a series of 50 portraits on carved and stained wooden panels, all beautifully executed and wonderfully presented. It is works such as these which appear like needles in the citywide haystack of mediocrity and down right ridiculous which make the visit worth while.
However, none of these are comparable to the enjoyment that came from the exhibition at the Bluecoats gallery. Daniel Bozhkov’s Music Not Good for Pigeons featured an amusing video of a sneezing panda (yes really!) in an unimpressive, poorly connected installation. This served as a poor introduction to Nicholas Hlobo’s main event. Ndize is, in simplest terms, a ribbon maze but is essentially the type of installation art work that people from every walk of life can appreciate and at any age. Interpretations aside, the work is not only beautiful but evokes a very playful side within the viewer or ‘experiencer’. It is a truly thrilling experience to be within, the brightly coloured ribbons are both threatening and intriguing, leaving the viewer with giddy feelings of excitement and awe.
Alfredo Jaar has received rave reviews by many critics of the Biennial for his ‘The Marx Lounge’ in the Rapid building. This exhibit, as it really isn’t a work of art, consists of books and furniture produced by others for which Jaar appears to be claiming, and surprisingly getting, some sort of recognition for. There are a great number of other works within the Rapic building which I feel do not deserve mentioning as they give little to be visually or conceptually desired.
A fellow student of mine, surprised by my negative feedback about the Biennial, criticised me, claiming that one simply can’t hate contemporary art because ‘it is what it is’. My reply was to ask how can we feel anything about something as pointless as a collection of spray painted oil barrels or as irritating and offensive to the ears as the chaos that dominates the basement of the Rapid building. I want to like it, I really do, but it seems all together a waste.
It is terrible that funding for the Art Council is being cut by so much as we desperately try to pull out of the recession. However, what the Liverpool Biennial has shown is that perhaps economic security for our entire nation would be a more just cause for public spending than glorified, grotesquely painted oil barrels.
Or am I just missing the point?
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