Brian Jungen Friendship Centre @ AGO

I was fortunate to catch this exhibition in its final days, and am sad I didn’t make it sooner…only as it would have allowed me time to visit again. The first pieces you encounter as you walk from the main gallery into Jungen’s exhibition are mixed material - leathers and ancient natural materials mixed and interspersed with neon lights. They have a magnetic effect, drawing you in as the colours change. It is only after being drawn in that you notice the larger work in the centre of the room, Tombstone, which is plastic making what appears evocative of a turtle shell that at first seems suspended, until you notice the deep black block of filing cabinets beneath it. Turtle island sits on bureaucracy.

From here, you enter through into the larger space, which is pure whimsy. The friendship centre has a floor demarcated like a school gymnasium, with giant totems built of stacks of golf bags positioned in the corners. Dotting the space, almost too many to properly look at, are masks and head dresses and woven blankets created from Nike shoes and shirts. The sheer intricacy of each individual sculpture is overwhelming; how the materials from the shoes align perfectly to create pattern and balance. Something deeper is here in the undercurrent, only occasionally becoming overt with pieces like I Shall Be Released, which departs from the whimsy to a place of struggle.

This gives way as you walk through a hallway of lockers, to the most political pieces. A whale skeleton made of plastic chairs. Gerry cans painted in primary colours. Chairs wrapped in dark fabrics. The constriction is palpable here.

As you move back through to exit the installation, passing through the sculptured Nikes that initially seemed so whimsical, the dark colours seem more prominent. More present. Something you can’t forget.

Brian Jungen - I Shall Be Released, 2015

review. How To Build a House Museum - Theaster Gates @ AGO- Art Gallery of Ontario

Unlike a lot of solo shows one expects to find at a gallery of the reputation of the AGO, the work of Theaster Gates is considerably more ephemeral, more disruptive, more inherently political. In asking his question, "how do we determine whose house to commemorate" and conflating this with the House Music movement, Gates demands that the viewer acknowledge our own limited purview of who "deserves" to be recognized. 

Upon entering the main space, the music (which is at a quite loud volume) pierces the air, and draws you toward the Reel House, a tribute to Chicago musician and pioneer Frankie Knuckles. The joyful and energetic music creates a safe space, one where it is okay to relax and engage personally with the artwork, and contrary to many much more sterile and silent gallery experiences.

Surrounding the Reel House are several canvases with geometric shapes in primary colours. At first glance they appear to reference modernist painting, however upon further view into other rooms, you learn that these are visual representations of scientific charts which show statistics of black households in the period surrounding emancipation. Progress is the key underlying message, and this meters our response to Gates' initial question.

The final space, Progress Palace, is the culmination of these ideals. It is a separated room to enter, where a new group of sounds fill the darkened, purple-lit space. The large physical installation  Houseberg creates fascinating reflection patterns on the wall as it turns slowly. The projected images cycle in tandem with the music which emanates from a skeleton of a DJ booth, playing the video House Heads Liberation Training, with dancers and singers in un-practiced sound and movement. This deconstruction of a nightclub space is wonderful to experience solo -- the absence of other people in the space highlights the potential that occurs when these forms intersect. The theatrical nature of the potential within this constructed (or deconstructed?) space is captivating. 

Gates exhibition as a whole is absolutely work seeing -- runs until October 30th at the AGO.