The Darlington Installation Project
The Darlington Installation Project, an off-shoot of Slot, is a collaborative project between Lloyd Suttor of 30 Golden Grove Street, Darlington, and Slot, a window gallery at 38 Botany Road, Alexandria directed by Tony twigg. Click Here to go to the Slot Blog
History of The Darlington Installation Project
- July 2011 to January 2013 "The Colony", by Tony Twigg
- January 2013 to December 2013 "The Signman Retrospective", by an unknown artist
- January 2014 to June 2014 "Pallet Ends", by Tony Twigg
- June 2014 to September 2014 "Quantas", by Jimmy Nuttall
- September 2014 to January 2015 Gold, by Wendy Bornholdt
- January 2015 to July 2015 Inkening, by Sally Adair
- July 2015 to December 2015 Hangover, by Arthur Apanski and Tony Twigg
- December 2015 to February 2016 Cremation, by Jayanto
Current Installation- from February 24 2016 , Pulling it Together, by Jessica Watson
To quote Jessica's web site, she is is Australian by birth and Swedish by choice. Her work is held in collections in Australia, Sweden, Malaysia and the UK. Exploring the idea of Identity Jessica delves into the idiosyncrasies of hawkers on Rio de Janeiro’s famed beaches, Australia’s squiggly bark Eucalyptus, the cultural cauldron of Malaysia and most recently the impact of returning to her hometown in Australia.
July 2011 to January 2013
The work of our Curator Tony Twigg, "The Colony", was our first installation and his work caught the
attention of the International Art Journal "World Sculpture News"
January 2013 to December 2013
The Signman Retrospective by an unknown artist
In May 2013, Vanessa Berry in her blog, 'Mirror Sydney', commented....
Sydney’s master of ads beyond the noticeboard would have to be an individual dubbed by my friend Lucas as “Bar Fridge Man” or by others “Sign Man“. If you’ve spent any time around the inner suburbs of Sydney over the last fifteen years, you’ll be familiar with Bar Fridge Man. Objects – bags, chairs, paintings, shoes, eskies, garment bags, belts, folders, a Dungeons and Dragons game board, anything, everything – became canvases for ads, usually for beds or fridges or larger domestic appliances, always written in white-out to cover the entirely of the object beneath. It has been some years since I’ve spotted one of these ads, but for a long time no walker around Redfern would be spared a sighting of some domestic object branded with an ad for a queen bed or similar. Almost as compelling a conversation topic as the Olympia Milk Bar, Bar Fridge Man fuelled much speculation. Was it legitimate? Was it art ? Or could it be made into art? There was at least one exhibition of a collection of these ads at Slot Gallery in 2004, with an accompanying text linking them to themes in contemporary Australian art, and also the chalk messages of Eternity, written on Sydney streets by Arthur Stace hundreds of thousands of times between the 1930s and 1960s. Could “Single Bed $100” be the work of a contemporary, commercially-minded version of Stace?
Vanessa referenced our Sign Man installation in July 2013 in her Sydney Mirror blog.
January 2014 to June 2014
Pallet Ends, by Tony Twigg
PALLET ENDS BY TONY TWIGG, 2013
Found objects arranged on a tabletop.
Working with found objects
This work, Pallet ends, was in a recent exhibition of mine. At the opening I watched as a man entered the gallery. He took a quick turn around the room, walked up to me where I was standing beside Pallet ends and said, “it’s a cross between Robert Klipple and Roserlie Gasgoine.”
I don’t think it was a compliment. Then, casting his eye over the rest of the show he commented, “not so much with the rest of the work, nice show.” That might have been a compliment but there is always something dubious about nice as a word. What ever my critics intent he had put his finger on the business of working with found objects. It’s the job of managing the various unintended associations thrown up by things one comes up against by accident. In this case pallet ends. I’d scavenged some pallets from the streets near my studio – used a bit of the wood and left the rest in a pile until it was time to clean up. Then sawing up the pallet leftovers for easy disposal I realised that I had found art. Respectfully I retrieved them from my rubbish pile and restacked them in the studio, perhaps too artfully. Or could it have been in an overly casual manner. Might I have achieved an arrangement that reflected more of myself or perhaps I should have preserved more accurately the happen-stance of the initial arrangement I made when I returned the pallet ends to the studio? And while my critic was correct in associating my work with Klipple and Gasgoine, both late great Australian artists who arranged found objects into sculptures that had the appearance of still life compositions, he might also have observed that my own still life, Pallet Ends, was a cross between Pukamani poles and Morandi. Pukamani poles being stacked drum like carvings made by the Tiwi on Melville Island off the coast of northern Australia and Morandi being an Italian painter whose austere still life paintings reduced the rigors of cubism to a sublimely casual gesture.
Giorgio Morandi, painting subject
There is something, undeniably absurd about considering in a pile of pallet ends, that is studio rubbish, the relationship of mid 20th century Italian painting to indigenous Australian sculpture, while finding it an arrangement that evokes the work of two great assemblage artists of the late 20th century. Equally this is the phenomenon of objects that we might call found objects, things that without any artistic intention or intervention, have acquired an essence of art. And if in my hands that is too strong a claim, at least acquired the look of art. TONY TWIGG
June 2014 to September 2014
Quantas, by Jimmy Nuttall
JIMMY NUTTALL SYDNEY (Qantas) Jimmy Nuttall’s artfully draped silk scarf conceals the emptiness of DIP’s space with a wry flourish. Offering, as he says, “a playful take on nationalism” with a “luxury item, presented in a provisional manner.” Of course, it is the Qantas silk scarf’s iconic symbol and corporate logo draped across the gracious necks of flight attendants across generations, the “trolley-dolly” ambassadors of Australian good will, that might not be so. Nationalism can become murky territory if we think too long, while Peter Allan sings along to “I still call Australia home”, lifted as a Qantas commercial that might come back as a memory ruffling the playful elegance of Nuttall’s ironic “sculpture”. Nuttall, who works in Melbourne, has presented the Qantas logo in several installations and, coincidently, a similar work opened at Melbourne’s Platform space the night before this piece was installed. For his audience Nuttall has made the famous logo his own with rough doodle-like additions. Playfully robbed of its function and pressed into service as a prop - a mechanisms for the production of art - it has become simply ambiguous. This Jimmy Nuttall work SYDNEY (Quantas) came to DIP Darlington Installation Project as part of the DISPATCH project, which links window galleries across Australia with exhibitions exchanged between them. Click here to learn more about Dispatch
September 2014 to January 2015
Gold, by Wendy Bornholdt
Originally from New Zealand, Wendy Bornholdt has exhibited widely in NZ and the UK.
While making installations, Bornholdt was drawn to window works in 2006 when she devised a small work for the Dunedin Public Art Gallery that described a girl who liked to look in fish shop windows. She has since executed further window works in NZ and here in Sydney where the window gallery scene is well established.
Gold is an old man’s reflection of childhood days at the beach.
For several generations at least it also evokes a mood reflected by the works site, an old corner shop. A fragment of a sign hints at it, a bit of history documents it, but mainly it’s a memory that we can smell as readily as we can smell the sea at a distance through time – it’s nostalgia.
Here the text floats on its window and is overlaid by reflections of the street and from within, including the roundabout opposite that Wendy describes as being evocative of a lifebuoy – a lifebuoy reflected in her text that those of us caught in the nostalgia of her work might also know as soap.
Wendy’s work is an accordion of associations, half prose, half graphic that is properly installation art designed to catch our eye as it wanders the street, with an offering as tangible as a flight of fantasy.
January 2015 to July 2015
Inkening, by Sally Adair
A commentary by our curator Tony Twigg..... While I was helping install this work I asked Sally Adair – “so what’s the work about”. She caught me, in the corner of her eye with the gentlest of smiles that was both wry and weary. It said it all - why would you want me to explain what you can clearly see in front of you and if that is not enough, then look elsewhere. Sally went on to say that if needed she could come up with the kind of paragraph required by grant applications but really her interest was only in making the work and putting it up. The work, a fusion of tangled branches is pragmatically beautiful. Shaped at once by her chosen material, then by the method of her construction, the physical constraints of our exhibition space and finally Sally’s compassionate hand that seems to be the junior partner in this collaboration but is of course is at it’s heart. Indeed this is Sally’s second consideration of this work that was previously titled s.o.e., which stands for sense of edge and was shown at the Belconnen Art Centre in Canberra. There it clung to the edge of an exhibition screen that more usually would have carried a work, mounted square on its surface. There and here Sally has considered the space around the object as an unseen partner in the work. And it is this quality, rather than a polemic or narrative that Sally maintains in her practise. It has an indeterminate edge. Rather than offering an alternative reality, this art is simply scribbled over a reality that we already have. It’s an addition to the world as we know it with the ambition of becoming part of it.
July 2015 to December 2015, Hangover, by Arthur Apanski and Tony Twigg
Arthur Apanski takes a moral position in his art. And it is a principled stand. He is against war, the greed that motivates it and along with it the suffering it delivers. My contribution to our collaboration was pragmatic in comparison. I was the one to offer Arthur’s skeleton wrapped in Australian bank notes a chair. With deft precision Arthur’s works confront the viewer, in this case with the idea of money. For Arthur money, at best a necessary evil, is the route of man’s inhumanity to man. Although it is ironic that once the war over money is fought, it is money that we send the consequent refugees left struggling to begin life a new. Money spiralling in ever more incomprehensible numbers defines our homes as crippling mortgages and it’s money that we carelessly spend on a coffee, a movie, even lunch as a diversion from the sobering burden it becomes. Arthur has it right; we are “money to the bone”. The moral, like all morals however is open to interpretation and pragmatic presentation. We decided on a chair as a sort of animating stand for the skeleton. And this landed it in my studio for a chair fitting. A couple of weeks later Arthur came to inspect the completed adaptation and noticed a work of mine in the studio, a suitcase that he immediately incorporated into our work. He explained that he had been thinking of adding a hat and some coins to the piece. His skeleton of money would also be a beggar but this baggage of numbers was better, two skeletons joined through the colour of money – orange sticks = 10, orange notes = 20. At last Arthur’s skeleton has enough numbers to count it’s self to oblivion, or sleep, which ever comes first. Arthur stood back from his work, examined it briefly. Satisfied he picked up his mobile phone, to arrange his next appointment. Like Elvis he had left the building and me, wondering if one man’s hangover might be another man’s inheritance.
December 2015 to February 2016, Cremation, by Jayanto
Jayanto Damanik says he is confused about his identify. He is an Australian citizen, born in Indonesia to Chinese parents. As for identity he could take his pick but has chosen Indonesian. And in doing that he has possibly adopted a particular 21st century Australian identity of people form diverse places who make homes here. But it’s the greeting “ni hao“ that grates for him. He is not Chinese. In Cremation Jayanto is adjusting this situation by conflating the 3 major festivals, Christmas, New Year and Chinse New Year into a single continuous celebration until the end of Chinese New Year on February 23. His celebration, an exquisite curtain of joss papers folded origami style in a manner remembered from his childhood, could only be improved with the addition of Hanukkah, Deepavali and Eid al-Fitr to this bonfire in celebration of the future year's possibilities. While Jayanto’s works are exquisitely crafted with a relaxed precision, his artistic concerns reach across art objects to a conversation with others around the proposition of making something. It is shared experience that leaves a residue of considerable harmonious beauty. One such project was mounted during Mental Health Month at the Alexandria Town Hall. Untutored participants made pinch pots – individually thick, ungainly and disproportionate objects that when seen collectively became an instillation of harmonious serenity. The very thing I believe that Jayanto brought to his untutored collaborator,Harmonious serenity, is also the quality offered up here in this blaze of joss paper lightly tossed in an unidentified celebration.
See more of Jayanto Damanik on his blog - jayantodamanikart.blogspot.com.au