Posts tagged Jill Orr
Sights Unseen: Recent Acquisitions from the Moreland Art Collection

We are delighted that our artists’ book, Salvaged Relatives, edition III will be on display.

In recent years the Moreland Art Collection has experienced significant gains through purchases, commissions and a marked increase in the receipt of philanthropic donations.

Sights Unseen: Recent Acquisitions from the Moreland Art Collection draws together artworks held by the municipality not previously exhibited at the Counihan Gallery In Brunswick.

Comprising photography, painting, drawing, prints, collage, artists books and mixed media the artworks reflect a diverse range of contemporary practice as well as some fascinating historical offerings — a trove of cultural heritage for the City of Moreland.

Charles Blackman, Trevor ‘Turbo’ Brown, Noel Counihan, Julian Di Martino, Gabrielle de Vietri, Rennie Ellis, Helga Groves, Gracia Haby & Louise Jennison, Joy Hester, Deanna Hitti, Janelle Low, Kirsten Lyttle, Jordan Marani, Jill Orr, Louise Paramour, Wolfgang Sievers, Shaun Tan, Stephanie Valentin, Stephen Wickham, James Wigley

Sights Unseen: Recent Acquisitions from the Moreland Art Collection

Saturday 27th July – Sunday 18th August, 2019
Counihan Gallery In Brunswick
233 Sydney Road, Brunswick

Gracia Haby & Louise Jennison
Salvaged Relatives, edition III
Artists’ book, unique state, featuring 21 individual collages on cabinet cards with pencil and paint additions (by Gracia Haby)
Housed in a three-colour cloth Solander box (by Louise Jennison) with inlaid collage, In the borrowed costume of a Polovtsian warrior (Prince Igor c. 1909–37)

Dark Night

Recently landed: Dark Night, Gracia’s written response to Dark Night by Jill Orr and Quake by Hellen Sky, presented as part of Dance Massive 2019, for Fjord Review

It is the smell of composted ingredients I notice first as I make my way along the passage. A blend of animal manure, rainforest mulch, leaf mould, washed river sand, and loam, giving off that warm garden smell. A mound of steamy soil, piled high in the Magdalen laundry of the Abbotsford Convent; a soil mix for holding moisture in a space still damp from its history. Soil might be a source of nutrients for growth, but in the dirt and dust and sadness of the laundry, its steam is overpowering on a humid autumn night.

Change the location, and a normally pleasing smell of pottering about in the garden alters how it is felt. This cavernous space is airless. I feel like I am being herded into a shed, like livestock penned in against the night and her predators, albeit gently, curiously, by a raft of smiling ushers who motion with torches “mind the cables,” “there’s room along the side wall.” Sand, sphagnum peat moss, perlite, overwhelming! Overhead, a moth crashes into the light. It flutters. I stand. There are not enough seats. (Earlier, audience members who most needed a seat had been asked to come forward.) Grass clippings, fungi, and bacteria! Vermiculite, from the Latin vermiculari, to ‘be full of worms,’ too. The urge to flee, or at least stand near to an exit is strong: I don’t want to put down roots here, in neither laundry’s past nor soiled, oppressive present.

And yet I do, for atop this mountain ‘full of worms’ sails Jill Orr. Majestic and unassuming, simultaneously. Both as assured captain of the craft and as a canvas for the audience to project their own thoughts upon. Legendary. Orr and her boat. Her surname alone, an oar, a navigational means, but I reckon she’d be pretty tired of hearing that. Presented by Dancehouse in partnership with the Abbotsford Convent as part of Dance Massive 2019, “emerging from an installation conceived for the Venice Biennale as a response to the terrible fate of asylum seekers arriving by boat to Australian shores, Dark Night explores the crumbling humanitarian ideals of a world in crisis. In this embodied installation, embracing the dramatics of scale, volume, tone, rhythm and movement, a series of images are performed.”

Dark Night  (image credit: Gregory Lorenzutti)

Dark Night (image credit: Gregory Lorenzutti)

Keir Choreographic Award

Recently landed: New and unsettled, Keir Choreographic Award Gracia's written response for Fjord Review

In the end, it is not a numbers game, but a willingness to negotiate uncharted waters, pushing the absolute limits of what constitutes dance. “This award is about bringing a little more attention to this art form which, quietly but firmly, organises our bodies in space and our minds in our bodies, and to its makers who relentlessly craft those journeys,” explains Angela Conquet, the artistic director at Dancehouse. All eight works, seen during their two-week season at Dancehouse, question the very definition of dance, of the body in orchestrated movement, and in turn ask: what is choreography? Some do so gently, some do so aggressively, some quietly, and some with a triumphantly tuneless trumpet blast (Brooke Stamp’s TEARAWAY—Part One: The Crater of Motor Power), but all seem in accord that it begins in the body. Brooke Stamp, choreographer and performer in Program One, illustrates this through both her performance and her words, “I think that a lot of people in this award are thinking about choreography as being grounded in the body but moving beyond that and into objects, visual art and sonic spaces.” The stage for her work dotted with props, some called upon and made animate, and all the while the legacy of Isadora Duncan and Martha Graham keenly felt. Stamp’s beautiful and brief dance with her projected shadow on a suspended cloth depicting through line the figure of a dancer is perfectly balanced by the trumpet’s brashness.

Jill Orr's  The Promised Land , courtesy of Jill Orr and Dancehouse

Jill Orr's The Promised Land, courtesy of Jill Orr and Dancehouse