Life has no outside, say the psyche-celestial Ladies of Liberty with
their microphones, say the fulgent cacti fountains, says the blooming
pussy flower with an unmistakable wink.
This is the pact
The Köln Concert
stages with its audience, among its works, between its artists,
Juliette Blightman (*1980) and Dorothy Iannone (*1930), who draw down
time into all-encompassing symbologies of love, sex, care, work,
autonomy, joy and other selfhoods. When I say symbol, I mean images that
speak broadly and concentrate personally, that are partly mnemonic and
partly divinatory, in which breakfast lives alongside Art Nouveau and
narrative takes the place of noses. In
The Köln Concert, forms,
figures, messages layer in counterpoint, a leitmotif of sorts, the
coexistence of harmony and clash played by Blightman and Iannone so that
they too may listen.
Not that everything is practice but that
practice reticulates: Blightman made the fountains in her stepfather’s
garage, perhaps with her young daughter’s help. It is possible to
imagine their visit to the hardware store to select the paint, a lurid
yet somehow utilitarian green. Here in the world of handy things, also
misappropriation, high jinks, making do, the phalluses’ gentle eruptions
rely on whatever energy they can gather via solar panels; when stilled,
they earnestly hold court as choruses performing in the rounds of
paddling pools. Something’s always growing, which is to say requiring
tending, in Blightman’s work. Children and plants, but also limitations,
perspective, desire, sense of self: care is a matter of patterning, of
understanding subject and process as one and the same. ‘Daughter’ is a
process; so is ‘body’, so is ‘home’. The pencil and guache works in
Stages of Seed Development (2020)
appear at first as windows until their serialized arrangement suggests
something more vociferous, perhaps phrases, at once contingent and
complete.
These works in particular speak, sing, move to their muse,
(Ta)Rot Pack (2016/1968-69),
Iannone’s ecstatic allegory of her life with Dieter Roth, which offers
some phrases of its own: ‘This Card Brings a Brief Respite Maybe’, says a
nude Roth wandering a trippy Swiss path; ‘This Card Brings What
Everyone Wants’, say the adorned lovers in tantric embrace. Iannone has
said that this ability—to bring things—is the only way her cards reflect
the (other) tarot. I would venture another: that the
(Ta)Rot Pack, like Blightman’s Stages, celebrates a sense of everyday consequence that is not without a cosmic sense of humor.
Which
may have something to do with itinerancy, an underlying cadence here.
These works spring from places both loved and abided, and from the need
amid frequent departures to sometimes return—to the United States, for
instance, where Iannone and her Ladies of Liberty were born, to Germany,
where Blightman first raised, and first painted, her daughter, and to
the Rhineland specifically, where Iannone lived with Roth and began the
(Ta)Rot Pack in the late 1960s. Image is how to get there:
The Story Of Bern (Or) Showing Colors (1970), originally an artist book, shown in
The Köln Concert as
a diaporama, tells that highly generative periods are often live with
contention and struggle. And that at the end of it all, when we finally
surface, we can know only through reflection that the triumphal arc
stands somewhere in the distance.
In the course of the exhibition, a joint publication will be produced.
The presentation at the Kölnischer Kunstverein is a continuation of the exhibition
Prologue at
Arcadia Missa Gallery this year. A second version of the exhibition
will open at Vleeshal in Middelburg, The Netherlands, in April 2021.
Thanks to: Air de Paris, Romainville; Arcadia Missa, London; Peres
Projects, Berlin; Galerie Isabella Bortolozzi, Berlin; Galerie Fons
Welters, Amsterdam; Collection Alexander Schröder, Berlin; Roger Hobbs;
Kentaurus, Cologne
