skyspace, james turrell

If you follow me on Instagram you might know that I've been in Canberra working on a set design for a dance piece. It's happening all again in Melbourne in five weeks, so I'll share a bit more about this later.

While in the neighbourhood, I visited James Turrell's Skyspace at the National Gallery. A circular pavilion within a square pavillion, the whole structure is partly submerged under water. Descending down a ramp through the moat, the textured ochre walls, sandwiched between the open sky and bright blue pool, draw immediate attention to the quality of light, colour and form within the room.

Upon entering the central round pavilion, attention immediately shifted to the sky through the oculus in the domed ceiling. I visited at dusk which coincides with the light show. The domed ceiling shifted from one colour to another; white, grey, orange, pink then purple. With each shift the sky transformed in colour and depth, at times looking infinite and other times looking like a flat coloured disk. When the dome turned a pale lavender, turning the sky a sea green, I gently slipped away.

It may not have knocked my socks off in the same way as his work at Naoshima (after that there's no coming back) but it was yet another example of Turrell's mastery in light, colour and perception. Well worth the visit!

cockatoo island, sydney biennale

Last weekend I escaped to Sydney for the weekend and managed to visit Cockatoo Island for the Biennale. Setting off from the wharf at Circular Quay, the ferry ride marked a distinct severance from Sydney CBD and a passage into a new world.

Set within the context of a pre-settlement convict base and shipyard, the Biennale imaginatively uses the site to create an exciting cultural playground. You can probably tell from a few of my art-free photos that I was quite enamoured by the site itself. From the sound installation occupying the low, cylindrical bunker, to the giant waterfall projection in the cavernous warehouse, the site’s qualities are fully exploited.

Gerda Steiner and Jörg Lenzlinger‘s installation was particularly memorable. The interactive installation uses low-tech methods attached to gym equipment to delight the visitor. Bubbles, flailing coloured flowers, dancing skeletons and clanging symbols are activated as the equipment is used. With some of the reactions occurring on the opposite side of the room, I became hyper aware of my movement and the movement of others in the room.

I only had a couple of hours to explore so I’m sure I missed out on seeing it all. However, I saw enough to be convinced that travelling to Sydney for the Biennale is well and truly worth it. I’m half tempted to fly back and check out the other Biennale sites…

grundtvig church, copenhagen

If you've been following me for a while, you may remember that this Danish church was one of the my first posts. My admiration for this monolithic brick structure hasn't subsided in the least, so I'm excited to share these photos from my in-the-flesh visit.

The approach to the building wasn't quite what I was expecting. Located outside of the city centre, the church was built as part of a new housing development in the 1910s. A series of identical houses were formally arranged along an axis leading up to the church entry. I found the solid brick facade a little severe, particularly in tandem with the surrounding housing development. It felt like Metropolis meets new suburbia, which was a little unnerving.Yet when I cracked open the side door, all apprehension dissipated. This space was as sublime as I had been expecting. The beauty of the brick detailing, the gentle vertical rhythm and the almost foggy pale glow of light washing down the nave - nothing let me down. On top of that, there was nobody else in there. I had his heavenly space, all to myself. How blissful and surreal.

rundetaarn, copenhagen

In seven and a half helical rotations, Rundetaarn in Copenhagen transports pedestrians from the footpath to the top of the observatory tower. The steady incline to the top spirals between a monolithic brick floor and the rhythmic curves of the vaulted ceiling above. Embedded halfway up the journey is a gallery space, which during my visit, housed a exhibition on hand drawings. Super bonus, Secret Garden style.

Now that's what I call an arrival procession done right.

yoko ono, louisiana museum of modern art

I mentioned previously that Louisiana Museum Modern Art was my favourite find in Copenhagen. This is a bit of a russian dolls post, but the golden nugget hiding inside- Yoko Ono's exhibition - truly deserves its own post.

To be honest, I thought of Yoko Ono as little more than John Lennon's sidekick prior to this exhibition. By the time I left, I'd developed a heavy infatuation with this woman's inspiring, expansive mind and immense creative energy. Covering everything from installation to film, music, performance art and painting, one thing rang very clear: this prolific artist knows how to generate ideas. As a visitor to the exhibition, both the eyes and mind were truly stimulated. Each work was a dangling carrot, encouraging me to discover more about myself, others and the way we engage with the world.

One of my favourites within the exhibition was the "Telephone Maze." Using layers of glass and clever lighting, this seemingly simple maze was a disorienting experience. Dizzying light refractions threw me of course over and over. For me, the maze quickly became a performance experience with crowds suddenly emerging from nowhere, all gazing at my attempt to navigate the maze. At the heart of the maze was a telephone, which delivered performance based instructions at irregular intervals. My timing didn't coincide with a phone call, so I made my way out, somehow still stumbling my way through a path already travelled.

"We're all water"
Bottles of liquid marked with names of celebrities

"Morning Beams"

louisiana museum of modern art, copenhagen

The Louisiana Museum was easily my favourite spot in Copenhagen. The experience began with a one hour train ride from the city through the woods. The physical distance provided mental distance and I revelled in the luxury of escape. 

We arrived at the sculpture park and gallery, at a modest house with a ticket booth. The journey began through a long, internalized gallery space. Incrementally, the beauty of the museum grounds revealed itself. Small windows gradually opened up to glassy walkways and long ribbon windows, offering long views to the generous grassy lawns and the heavily rooted trees scattered across the site. Eventually, we found ourselves exploring the sculpture park, set against the stunning backdrop of the sea. 

The building was designed by Jørgen Bo and Wilhelm Wohlert in 1958. There is a considered understanding of the journey through the space, shifting from underground spaces to long vistas from up high. From narrow corridors to double height spaces. The gaze is guided from one view to another, always complimenting the moment before and the moment after. 

The architecture is beautifully crafted; the detailing of the flat, paper thin roofs, the textured brickwork, the exposed timber structure. Yet the architecture does not demand attention. It politely offers a platform of exchange between nature, visitors and art. The building is a restrained beauty and a unforgettable example of the Danish aesthetic. With such expansive grounds, it was difficult to photograph it all. So here are a few little vignettes which capture some of my favourite moments.

chapel of reconciliation, berlin

While in Berlin, I visited The Chapel of Reconciliation, designed by Rudolf Reiterman and Peter Sassenrath. Both the history of the site and the architecture contribute to the power of this space.

The chapel straddles the old boundary between East & West Germany and replaces the former chapel, which was destroyed to make way for the Berlin Wall. It's composed of two concentric ovals. The outer oval is an open timber batten structure and the inner oval is solid rammed earth. The solid, uninterrupted surface of the rammed earth wall disengages the internal space from its urban surrounds, encouraging an inward contemplation that exists outside of everyday life. 

A skylight connects the internal space with the sky and exaggerates the rippling texture of the rammed earth. The rammed earth contains the crushed remains of the previous chapel, embedding further soul and meaning into a material that from my point of view, already encourages me to feel more human.

[Photos by me]

bagsvaerd church, copenhagen

Rather than inundating you with all things Japanese, let's mix it up a bit. Time to grab a snippet from the Copenhagen leg of the journey today. Hooray!

After arriving at a surprisingly boxy and utilitarian building, I started to wonder if I had taken down the wrong address. The facade fails to give the faintest hint of the undulating ceiling that lies within. Yet hidden behind a door in a network of corridors, I finally found Jorn Utzon's Bagasvaerd Church.

 

Being imbedded in the depth of the building, the space is very much internalized with limited views beyond its walls. Highlight windows are obscured from view, but their presence is made known by the wash of daylight cast on the ceiling. The glow reveals the sculptural form of the ceiling- the anomaly in an otherwise rational structure. Although concrete, the ceiling ripples weightlessly over the church as a soulful, spiritual gesture.

Despite being built in the seventies, I couldn't help but notice that the detailing and materiality are strangely current. I know the Scandinavian aesthetic is generally pretty classic, but the pale timber, the touches of warm metal and the soft geometry have definitely been on high rotation on a number of more recent projects. 

To virgin eyes, one might think Bagsvaerd is a new project. I guess that unwavering relevance is what makes it an architectural classic.

[Photos by me]