Be surprised at the Ariana Museum!

Ariana 1

The Ariana Museum is a sumptuous, impressive structure set back from Avenue de la Paix in Geneva. It was built in 1884 by Gustave Riviliod to house his private collection of objets d’art. He named it after his mother, Ariane de la Rive. It’s formal title now is the Swiss Museum of Ceramics and Glass. From the outside, you would be forgiven for thinking it is some sort of presidential palace (except that Switzerland has no President!). The interior does not disappoint; its polished marbled arches and smooth granite columns are imposing. It is quiet and cool. Entrance to the permanent collection is free. The staff are very polite.

If I am honest, a whole museum dedicated to glass and ceramics has never really “floated my boat” as the Americans would say. But one thing takes me back there regularly: its permanent collection contains a marble bust that is the most beautiful sculpture in existence. There, I’ve said it! And when you go and see it – as you should – you will agree. She lives. If you watch her for long enough, her eyes open for a quick peak at you! And just imagine… this was chipped out of a rock! Luigi! Hat off to you!

Ariana 2

“Femme voilée” (Veiled woman) by Luigi Guglielmi (1834-1907).

The other work I love is right next to the main entrance. It is elemental, elegant, delicate and kinetic but, at the same time, solid in a weighty, glass-and-steel kind of way.

Ariana 3

“Pagan Remembrance” (2008) by Philip Baldwin and Monika Guggisberg.

I go to the Ariana every couple of months or so for a rendez-vous with my veiled lady. I play with the idea of inviting her to lunch at the discrete little restaurant on the first floor. So I cannot really claim that I was going to see the current temporary exhibition: “8 artists & clay.” I decided to have a look. This luscious collection of contemporary ceramics was a total surprise. And it floats my boat! It’s a must see. The extensive basement is dedicated to the work of Claude Champy, Bernard Dejonghe, Philippe Godderidge, Michel Muraour, Setsuko Nagasawa, Daniel Pontoreau and Camille Virot. I am intrigued by their imagination. Their arresting and provocative pieces are generously and very tastefully exhibited. It is calming to wander around them and to soak up the warm colours. The voice of temptation says “Go on, Robin! Nobody will see if you run your hand over those delicious textures!”

Ariana 4

In the foreground is Philippe Godderidge’s “Demeures” (2013). The space behind is dedicated to a number of works by Michel Muraour.

Ariana 5

The space given over to Bernard Dejonghe features his five black enamalled wall-pieces of “Areshima”(2008).

Ariana 6

A mixture of porcelain and orange clay “Sculptures” (2008-2012) by Setsuko Nagasawa.

Upstairs and taking pride of place in this exhibition, is a large collection of the late Jacqueline Lerat’s work. It is an acknowledgement of her revolutionary contribution to modern ceramics. The pieces are warm and earthy but with unexpected little flashes of colour. They have a comfortable appeal as though they would really be happier in people’s homes. I want to pick them up and feel their weightness. (A polite man wearing a white shirt, a dark tie and a radio watches me carefully as I photograph them.)

Ariana 7

Sculpture au cercle blanc (1990) & Sculpture et végétaux (1985).

Ariana 8

Femme assise au grand chapeau (1962).

Ariana 9

Trois pousses verte et un pied rose (2003).

And there’s more… If you want a moment of reflection on leaving the Ariana, you can find a wonderful bronze of Mahatma Ghandi only fifty metres from the front door. It is a gift from the Republic of India to Geneva. Around its base, the grass is worn away by the countless people who stop, reflect and take photos. Perhaps they hope he will briefly lift his eyes from his reading?

Ariana 10

“Mahatma Ghandi: My life is my message” by Gautam Pal (2007).

If contemporary ceramics floats your boat, then paddle your way down to the Ariana. You’re in for a quite some surprise. The “8 artists & clay” exhibition closes on 8 September but the veiled woman will still be there.

Jannisoo’s rubber tyre duck

Tallin-born sculptur Villu Jaanisoo is a master of transforming all sorts of worn out things into beautiful and thought-provoking stuff. I stumbled upon one of his masterpieces – Rubber Duck – at this year’s Örebro OpenART, an outdoor exhibition taking place in Örebro, Sweden. Quite different from the little yellow fella many of us keep in the bathtub!

Rubber Duck

Villu Jaanisoo’s Rubber Duck at Järntorget in Örebro.

Made from recycled car tyres, the duck measures 350 x 380 x 300 cm. Jaanisoo, who also heads the Sculpture Department in the Finnish Academy of Fine Arts, explains that the material “functions in a way that the form and surface structure of the duck become almost baroque-like, relating the work with the tradition and history of sculpture making.”

Jaanisoo and his Rubber Duck made from car tyres. Photo credit: svt.se

Örebro is home to many ducks and birds. Järntorget is a famous square next to Örebro Castle. But why has our rubber friend landed here? “It is important how the work relates to the environment where it is situated, how the work itself adjusts to the history and characteristics of the site” says its maker. I don’t get it. It feels misplaced. Stranded.

Örebro Slott

700 years old Örebro Castle.

The duck is soft. It smells funny. It invites for climbing. After walking around the square, pondering for a little while, I have decided what Jaanisoo’s duck means to me. The importance of having a healthy approach to consumption. Even the most trashy, smelly and deteriorating pile of things can be recycled and transformed into beautiful stuff!

Oxford Tire Pile #5 Westley, California, USA, 1999. Photo credit: Edward Burtynsky

Leaving Örebro by car, I cannot help but thinking of my Volvo V40’s tyres. How often will I have to replace them? Will I ever get a flat tire? I almost wish to one day have enough rubber to create something. Perhaps a castle? One thing is certain, my tyres will not keep adding to mountains like the one pictured above. It is time for change.

The Rubber Duck will be on display in Örebro until 1 September 2013, when it will move back home to Retretti Art Center in Punkaharju, Finland.

The Oxley Creek Bark Canoe

I was watching Cormorants fishing at the point where muddy Oxley Creek meets the muddy Brisbane River in Queensland, Australia, when I came across a strange sculpture.

Canoe 1

Oxley Creek, near the junction with the Brisbane river.

Canoe 2

The Oxley Creek Bark Canoe.

This is a bronze which apparently is a facsimile of an Aboriginal, bark canoe that was built to ‘acknowledge the Jagara people‘s  use of Oxley Creek’ as part of the ‘First Oxley Creek Water Festival’ in 1997. Brisbane City Council then commissioned sculptor Sean Tapner to create the Bronze at lifesize.

I felt it, tapped it and looked at it. The second thought I had, after one of admiration for the sculptor’s skill, was that if this were in the UK it would have been stolen at worst or vandalised at best. In fact it would not even have been placed in a small, suburban park on a riverbank like this for those reasons. But here it was, sixteen years on, untouched and flawless.

Canoe 3

… and in the canoe!

The canoe’s edges curl inward and I imagined how precarious I would feel sitting in it. I imagined those edges cutting into my bare skin as I paddled. I imagined the smell of fresh fish, mud and sweat; for lying in the bottom of the canoe, as if the Jagara had just hauled it up the muddy bank, is the catch of Mullet and a Blue Swimming Crab, a woven basket, a fish spear and a decorated paddle. And that’s it. Simply a realistic rendering of everyday objects. A still life? No obvious message or meaning. A council funded sculpture surrounded by Council barbecue points and some children’s swings to commemorate, in some way, a Council funded festival. But this thing was speaking to me. It forced its way into my consciousness demanding me to think deeply about it.

This canoe and its contents were resonating with rythms of an unchanging lifestyle from thousands of years ago. It spoke also of white, European, national guilt and the hypocrisy of those who believe that an ‘acknowledgement’ is atonement enough for Manifest Destiny, whilst Aboriginal peoples still suffer the legacy of it. These were natural objects because they were from a time and a culture that did not separate Man from the ‘Natural World’. Their ‘beauty’ was in their efficient functionality. Handmade, utilitarian objects, their meaning and their use the difference between life and death. No wonder it resonated.

It was only when I recognised the effect that the bronze had on me that I thought it might be a suitable subject for Talking Beautiful Stuff.