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20/4/2015

Gareth Moore

Architecture Museum - La Loge, Bruxelles

You can’t see me but I am writing this from the bottom of a white styrofoam cup. I am holding a stir-stick which to me is gigantic and I am scraping the rim of the cup which emits a noise not unlike the sound of a body —— stretching in the morning.
From here, looking out the mouth of the cup it looks like looking back at the beginning of a song.

Grandmother takes her teeth out; she doesn’t have company and there is no longer a need to chew.

In the beginning, there was no beginning. There was already a sound. A plop whirrrrrrr-fizzle, the sound of a bullet being made, a yawn, a snap, a splash of piss on cobblestones, and a large bag of gas moving through darkness.

Picture the sound of a pair of gumboots, with feet in them, stepping up and down in a wooden container full of mud.

Early morning:
A homeless woman shuffles by, she is wearing plastic carrier bags on her feet, the bags lined with pigeon feathers she's collected from the neighborhood. She is a composer.

From above, the wind descends through the valley and passes over the broken reeds of a marsh. An organ emerges, the first flute, an ocarina. If you stand there long enough you can hear the notes changing as the reeds grow.

Janitors of this Long Tone Poem are the tortoises who have lived in the zoo for the past 70 years. They are also the composers, the instruments and the notations.

A green speaker lid is visible jutting from the earth on the periphery of this menagerie; it plays field recordings from other deserts, jungles and city parks. When listening, a loop can be distinguished, then a drone that mingles with the ultrasonic cough of the fluorescent lighting and the snaking sound of a tram moving bodies over our heads.

The phenology of the lights:
When the sun is at its highest, the lights are still on and Diogenes walks across the stage and in front of a backdrop painted in used engine oil. The lights can’t be switched off. Yet.

The carcass of the flogged horse that Nietzsche wept over is turned into an instrument; dried and stretched, a pipe placed down its throat. It resembles a pipe au sac. It is played into the evening, a ballade to insects.

and what ends it all…
two hands and a blade of grass placed to the lips. This; a gong, and the sound of the Cartesian body split from itself; speakers in the wheel-well of an electric car engine.

A Gong

- Gareth Moore, April 2015 -

A Burning Bag as a Smoke-Grey Lotus is the first solo-exhibition of Gareth Moore in Belgium. The exhibition appears as a ceremony composed of instrumental sculptures. It pursues the artist’s ongoing investigations and explores the physical and symbolic properties of sound and its relationship to humans, animals and sculptural form.

About the artist

Gareth Moore (b. 1975, Matsqui, British Columbia) lives and works in Vancouver, Canada.

Gareth Moore has been shown nationally and internationally, including solo presentations at Glasgow International (2014); La Criée (2014); Vancouver Art Gallery (2013); Catriona Jeffries (2013); the CCA Wattis Institute (2008); Witte de With (2008). In 2012, Moore developed an extensive project for dOCUMENTA 13. Moore was a resident at the Glasgow Sculpture Studios from January until April 2014. He was shortlisted for the Future Generation Art Prize, (2010) and the Sobey Art Award, (2012).

This exhibition has been conceived in collaboration with Stroom Den Haag.
A Burning Bag as a Smoke-Grey Lotus will be on view at Stroom Den Haag from 05/07/15 until 20/09/15.

Image: Gareth Moore, photocopy toner on paper, 24 x 36 cm - Courtesy of the artist and La Loge, Brussels

Opening: Tuesday 21 April 2015, 18:00 to 21:00

La Loge
Kluisstraat - Rue de l’Ermitage 86
Thu - Sat 12pm to 7pm

stampa

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