CAC(k) by name, not by nature.

In the training session where I learnt about the Agapanthus effect I was told about the typical life of a project, via a line graph. You start full of enthusiasm at the prospects and downright ingenious nature of your new life changing idea (line soars upwards). Then, self doubt and lack of confidence creeps up like mildew at the bottom of a shower curtain and you end up tearing down the once promising idea and throwing it on the scrap heap (line goes down like a paddling pool on a rose bush*). Never wanting to fly in the face of convention, the life of my blog has followed suit. For better or for worse, the line is on the way up to soon plateau with some mediocre blogging.

I recently visited the Chinese Arts Centre (http://www.chinese-arts-centre.org/) and I am pleased to report that the gallery was far from CAC(k) as its acronym suggests. I approached the building with my head down against the torrential Manchester rain attempting to follow Googlemaps to its Thomas Street location. My breath was taken away as approached the converted Victorian market.

For those that haven’t visited, the Chinese Art Centre is a small gallery in the Northern Quarter. It has two exhibition rooms and a attractive Tea House/lounge area. The entrance to C.A.C. mirrors the gates around the corner with these simple designs.

Inside I experienced a light and sound installation by Angie Atmadjaja, a student studying a PhD in sound composition at the University of York and hailing from Jakarta, Indonesia. Her installation is called Intrinsic and the experience overwhelms the senses. I walked into a pitch black room (I was reminded of Miroslaw Balka’s installation in the Turbine Hall, Tate Modern) and had to feel along the wall to find a place to stand. I had no idea if I was the only person in the room so my Agapanthus Effect was in full swing.  I was tempted to relieve the tension by rummaging in my handbag and lighting up my phone.

Then the sound started. Reminiscent of being under the sea, soothing watery sounds filled the room. Around 15 halogen light bulbs hung from the ceiling illuminating a circle of light on the grey tiled floor beneath them. They reacted to the sounds, flickering separately yet acting in unison to create an unsettling environment. Both sound and light built to a crescendo and the room became threatening and claustrophobic.

The simplicity of the materials used and clarity of installation made me focus on every flicker of light, every sound bite that bounded around the room. I was both aware of my immediate environment and curious about the clouded corners of the room. All in all, the installation was consuming.

In other news if you do visit the Chinese Arts Centre I highly recommend a visit to the loo. The wallpaper is extraordinary.

*No apologies made for the in-family joke.

The Agapanthus Effect

Reader, my first blog.

I am resisting the urge for self depredation by opening with an apology for all the trivialities, grammatical errors, spelling mistakes etc which will rear their ugly heads over the blogs to come (I realise this is a passive way of making the same point!) My family reminds me annually of my linguistic errors (‘Speeling Book’ – aged approx 8) and it keeps me in my place as the youngest member of my generation. With that in mind I am walking primrose and hope you will forgive annoyances, blogging faux pas, typos and the like. I don’t want to aggravate your inner-stickler!

I recently attended a training course on ways of interpreting artwork for visitors. The tutor described a theory which he called The Agapanthus Effect, although I am sure there is an equivalent in psychology. He began by asking us if we knew what agapanthus was. As my mum is more than a little green fingered I had heard of it and had to sit out of the exercise. For those that hadn't he asked what images that word conjured. Many pointed out the linguistic similarities between ‘agapanthus’ and ‘panther’ and said it brought to mind a fierce, sleek animal or the colour black which was menacing and frightening. Others said it sounded ‘poisonous,’ but in each case everyone agreed that it was a sinister and unsettling word. He then told us that a friend of his had wanted to keep people off her front lawn so she put up a sign saying ‘keep off the grass.’ People continued to walk on her lawn. Next she put up a sign saying ‘beware of the dog.’ People continued to walk on the lawn. Finally, she wrote ‘beware agapanthus,’ and it had the desired effect. This story (hopefully not apocryphal) illustrates the fear of the unknown and it is my job as an exhibition curator to create the gallery environment as a familiar space and give access, both intellectual and physical, to the exhibits.

As I work in art galleries I find them comfortable and relaxing environments (it would be a stressful career if I didn’t!) But as I sat down to write my first blog I encountered the Agapanthus Effect. I don’t know about blogging etiquette, how many words are too many, how many words are too few, how to get people to read my blog, do I want people to read my blog? What if my musings are torn to shreds?!?! It is this that has put me off writing thus far, but if I am to encourage others to overcome their fears, I guess I should do the same.
Here goes....

P.S. Agapanthus is a blue flower which kinda looks like a firework. I realise I should probably include a picture. First faux pas.