Bjarne Melgaard at ICA

25 September - 18 November

Exterior of ICA

A House to Die In
Institute of Contemporary Art
www.ica.org.uk

On Saturday I came to the ICA for Art Licks’ Second Annual and a friend suggested we come early to see the current exhibition. Quick research revealed the present show to be the first UK solo exhibit of New York-based Norwegian artist Bjarne Melgaard. It was entitled ‘A house to Die In’  -  I was not too enthused. On these grey, misty autumn days in late October, when the sun becomes more scarce and the cold takes on a new bite, I’m not actively seeking out depressive sounding things.

But in some ways the title is a bit of a red herring. All the work in the exhibition was produced in collaboration with others. And if there’s one characteristic or saving grace of collaboration, it’s that it really is the opposite of a death wish and generally ‘fruitful’, ‘invigorating’, or at least healthily infuriating. 

Lower Gallery with façade visible on right.

Upper Gallery

The exhibition is split between the Lower Gallery, a collaboration with architectural firm Snøhetta showing the exterior of said house, and two rooms of paintings and sculptures in the Upper Gallery, which is the proposed ‘interior’. The walls of the upper space have been painted safety-vest orange, and are filled with large paintings, and small, quirky sculptures of human and animal figures (as well as some large shapely black seating, again a collaboration with the architects). All of the painting and sculpture is produced in collaboration with non-art world artists, their names featured prominently under each work. The space, with its bright colours, rumpled carpet floor, and heavily expressive painting is indeed homey, if not a bit jarring and over-stimulating.  

The Lower Gallery, which has been painted metallic blue, is dominated by a life-sized angular black façade and is surrounded by several tables filled with drawings, models and objects. On one table there sits a miniature architectural model (the ‘house to die in’) and scattered e-mail correspondence between the artist and Snøhetta concerning the practical details of the exhibition (colour of paint for the walls, etc.).  In addition, there are sketches and phrases handwritten in black capitals giving some narrative to the work displayed (‘Concept –house to commit suicide in, house to die inside, house for not living’). Other surfaces are filled with more geometric models and sketches for architectural ideas as well as some drug paraphernalia, including crack pipes with a musing note from the artist about whether their glass shape can maybe be re-interpreted as windows for the house (!).

Architectural model of 'House to Die In'.

Notes and drawings surrounding the model. 

Correspondence with architects. 

Various objects and crack pipes.

Completing this scene, and surprisingly adding an effective punch of decorative colour, are custom-made rugs by the artist (the same as are found in the upper gallery), loosely fitted to the floor and bunched up against the walls.

So is this serious, sincere work about death, depression and mental illness, or removed and distanced commentary about something else?

Indeed, the black mock-façade is a bit dark, but falls short in sinister content and is inherently un-scary in the way Hollywood sets of the evil lair of the villain become corny and harmless seen out of the influence of lighting, special effects and clever camera angles. The paintings are exuberant, reminding me of typically expressive ‘troubled artist’ paintings, but the presence of interior decoration items and bold colour schemes makes it feel more like the quirky house of a rich collector.

I keep wondering what I’m supposed to think about the apparently dark and depressing angle of the exhibition. And the more I think about it, the more it seems that this exhibition revolves around a question of sincerity and faith. Especially faith in what the artist has chosen to tell us about his process, as these details are so integral to interpreting the work.

Concerning the collaboration with non-art world artists (I take this to mean un-educated), the press release describes how Melgaard created the paintings and sculptures ‘in partnership with a group of artists who have no formal art education and little or no connection to the art world’. But beyond the little gem of information that several of these collaborators: ‘are in recovery, face mental or emotional challenges, or suffer from schizophrenia’, not much detail is given about the process. On hearing this, my first response is ‘I beg your pardon??’ It seems like a lot of loaded information, the details of which I would suggest are pivotal to reading the work.  

The paintings that adorn the walls of the Upper Gallery (the so-imagined interior of the House to Die In) can best be described as energetic, colourful, dynamic, at times discordant and charmingly amateur, or at worst as slick, cynical, knowing, hip, ‘bad’ painting painting. I could interpret this as Melgaard bringing to light one of the important concerns in contemporary art: questioning authorship, and the value of the hand of the artist. There is also some mention of blurring the lines between art and architecture, in regards to the collaboration with Snøhetta. 

In this case it could be a critique of the modernist artist who is the sole creator, part of an extra-elite group which determines culture. An important thing to be questioned, no doubt, but it gets tricky when you realize that this work looks eerily like what many art-schooled artists are actually trying to create.

What’s notable about so-called ‘bad’ painting and the like is the fact that it very carefully and automatically polices the line between it and ‘outsider’ art. And differences definitely exist between the two groups, if only in the education, pedigree and awareness by the artist of their work within a larger context and history of art. One group is charmingly entertaining, although ignored; the other is obnoxious and provocative in the most uninteresting way, but not lacking in critical attention. Elitist and knowing ‘bad’ taste is to me quite unforgivable. I think it is about playing a joke at the expense of others and reveals the class system that underpins its aggressive, yet banal wit. I’ve always suspected that ‘bad’ painting held part of its allure for artists because of the element of selling to the rich what they secretly abhorred.

The question that has to be asked of Melgaard is about the nature and results of this collaboration. Is he honouring his collaborators, or is he profiting off a desire to see their wonderfully strong, 'wounded' sincerity? (the ‘purity’ of which I imagine would be impossible to replicate).

The funny thing is that he puts down their names, seemingly supporting their individuality and artistic prerogative, but clearly the familiarity and un-originality of the work will undermine this. Is he making a joke? None of these paintings would achieve any attention if it were not for Melgaard’s  incorporation of them into his own work.

This exhibition raised more questions than it answered. There are plenty of interesting things to look at, but behind the aesthetic content I found that this work was actually about ethical judgements, and I became quite unsure of my position within this game.

This is a timely show that in my mind addresses and reflects the difficulty contemporary artists have with sincerity, and the insecurity that flows from that. Do we 'know' so much that sincerity becomes impossible? The old canons are dead, the old ways of doing things no longer appear suitable, however there continues to be a desire for old pleasures. Amongst it all there is still that familiar energy to make and create, but what does one do with it in a world seemingly devoid of noble purposes?

Trafalgar Square as night falls.