Crossing the Threshold
In my art history course one year, we learned about the ways in which museums developed from places of learning to place of reverence. Glorious edifices dedicated to the preservation and longevity of history highlighted peaks of human creativity.
Today, many museums and galleries, especially those of contemporary art of veritable temples to the work they preserve and prevent. There is little argument that these cathedral-like spaces aid in the viewing of contemporary art; works can be well-lit, have space to breathe, and be curated in thoughtful arrangements.
Augustus Serapinas at Emalin Gallery, London
Yet what impact does the divide between this concentrated interior have with its immediate surroundings? Just as crossing over the foyer into one’s home is to enter a place of warmth and welcome, entering a museum or gallery signifies a fundamental change in not just space, but in attitude.
Two exhibitions I’ve recently seen have inspired this reflection, firstly the solo exhibition by Augustas Serapinas at Emalin Gallery in London, follow by Brook Hsu’s solo exhibition at Et. al Gallery in San Francisco.
Serapinas sent a chill down my spine
Serapinas’ exhibition was the last I saw after a week in London, a city home to breathe-taking museums and galleries. I’d seen the awe-dropping austerity and luxury of Gagosian, Ropac and Zwirner and I had delighted in the cavernous Tate Modern — where I saw masterpieces ranging from Pierre Bonnard’s post-impressionist nudes to the young Chloe Wise’s reflections on contemporary society and cleanliness.
Yet nothing struck me deeply as Serapinas’ humble and thoughtful exhibition, a painstaking ode to the whimsical days of childhood, a visceral attempt to capture in installation the fleeting rush of nostalgia. The core of the exhibition is in fact through a second foyer. The gallery itself is unsurprising, a well-lit white cube without windows. Within this space a walk-in freezer was built for the exhibition, populated by snowmen taken from the playground in Serapinas’ hometown in Lithiuania.
These snow sculptures are slightly deformed due to inevitable thawing during transport and install, and one or two have collapsed. Stepping into the freezer, I felt as in a science fiction film where a character steps into a fond memory held on pause, a chill running down my spine. That second foyer into the refrigerated room enters not only a second physical space, but one where the audience transports to a personal recollection, their own moments of innocence and carelessness. Viewing the outside of the freezer, and considering the effort in preservation, I realized it is futile to live in or recreate such past memories, and they can only be looked upon fondly.
Descend into Brook Hsu’s mythological world
Similarly, Brook Hsu’s exhibition exists by entering through a second portal. The gallery is in the basement of a laundry mat, which you enter through and immediately bypass before descending the staircase to view enter the show.
Brook Hsu at Et. al Gallery, San Francisco
The immediately striking force of Hsu’s exhibition was in the small scale of her paintings, which was unexpected and intimate. After seeing her work on Instagram for months, I expected large works, but was drawn in by acrylic on wood paintings no bigger than 8 inches squared. In the back corner, a series of paintings on plexiglass draws the eye due to their larger size and unexpected support, and a matching green puddle sits on the floor, covered in glass objects, mostly glasses and larger vessels.
A demonic figure with swept back horns inhabits many of the works, apparently searching for its soul. The bony figure states into a deep well, yet its reflection does not stare back. In some pieces, something floods from its eyes, which it covers in apparent pain. Is this remorse, remittance or retribution?
Brook Hsu. Actual size: 8 x 8 in.
Similarly, we gaze with intrigue at the green puddle on the ground, which appears intentional yet has pooled beyond its borders. Our reflection does not peer back at us, and suddenly, the demon is not so different. We have become a part of Hsu’s mythology. What once felt incomplete, with only a few clues in the six displayed paintings gains depth as our own lens rounds out our understanding of this strange world.
A step away from ‘reality’
Crossing the threshold from the so-called ‘real’ world into the gallery initiates a shift. Both Serapinas’ and Hsu’s exhibitions accentuate this transformation with a second entrance which enhances the depth in which we enter.
Inside and outside the freezer at Emalin Gallery, London
Yet it is also the surroundings of the gallery that impact this transition and add to our ability to remove ourselves and truly enter into the work. Serapinas’ show at Emalin is in the heart of Shoreditch on a busy street where fashion and shopping, social life and pubs, transport hubs and graffiti converge into a loud and busy chaotic scene of white noise. There is a marked difference between the exterior and interior, even the building itself. Shrouded sidewalk to roof in tags, with a couple eating their lunch on the stoop (oblivious to the existence of the gallery), crossing the threshold is to enter another world, which offers a chance to breathe, to renew and to reflect. The gallery itself becomes a transitory space for Serepinas’ installation. It wasn’t until I left until I realized how sharp the contrast was, how quickly the bustle of the outside world disappears once in the gallery.
Likewise, Et. al sits at the edge of Chinatown on a busy street, hardly another gallery within a stone’s throw. The street is packed with the hustle and bustle of daily routine, routine unfamiliar to me. To remove myself from that world in order to immerse myself in someone’s work adds to my present-mindedness, I can be in the mindset to fully leave one realm and enter deeply into another.
This type of situational experience is pertinent to learn about an artist’s work at a deeper level, and makes a strong case for galleries and museums to maintain their distinct identities and locations. To view an artist’s exhibition is to enter into their world, so why not leave behind your own?
Augustus Serapinas at Emalin Gallery, London