REVIEW  

 

 

An  Exhibition  remembered  

Transporter  A  solo  show  by  artist  Yael  Schmidt  

 

 

V22  Ashwin  Street  Gallery,  The  project  space  

18  January  -­‐  24  February  2008  

 

It  was  on  concurrently  at  V22  with  Jasper  Joffe’s  beauty  show,  in  the  basement  gallery  rooms.    You  

can’t  see  out  but  outside  was  brought  in  by  the  sound  of  whistling  singing  wind  through  an  installed  

pipe.    From  Joffe’s  exuberant  painted  enfleshment  of  previously  photographic  images  which  is  

experienced  as  total,  real,  you  went  to  where  there  are  images  of  individuals  like  snow  or  cloud  or  

phantasm,  but  which  in  memory  subsist  obsessively  imprinted  clear,  large.  

Perhaps  this  impression  in  the  memory  is  because  of  the  kind  of  engagement  the  work  exacts  from  

the  viewer.  The  images  elicit  contrasting  responses:  alarm.  (In  the  video  projection,  Bath,  has  she  

drowned?  Is  the  water  going  to  turn  red?  What  nakedness  is  going  to  happen?  In  the  video  

projection,  The  Lovers,  are  they  alive?)  One  contemplates  the  beauty  of  these  images  of  these  young,  

the  lovely  peaceful  colours  also.  The  infinitesimal  movements  of  the  subjects  defuse  and  yet  intensify  

the  anxiety  of  the  viewer  who  searches  for  a  sign  of  life  in  them,  seems  to  find  it,  relaxes  briefly  but  

then  suffers  a  lack  of  confidence  in  his  /her  perception,  unsure  that  the  sign  was  in  fact  seen.  

So  one  is  nudged  into  a  sort  of  confusion,  in  which  the  only  way  out  is  further  waiting  and  watching.  

This  interplay  between  the  work  and  the  viewer’s  effortful  wondering,  his/her  search  for  

confirmation,  is  perhaps  what  ‘fixes’  the  images  in  the  mind:  it  remains  there,  but  separate  from  

oneself  because  of  the  interlocution  with  one’s  own  perceptions  and  responses  about  the  image.  The  

‘self’  of  the  image  and  the  self  of  the  viewer  are  brought  into  clear  focus  as  different  but  equally  

valued.  This  separateness  is  possibly  what  satisfies:  in  the  gaps  between  the  tiny  movements  there  

has  been  made  time  for  looking,  time  for  one’s  own  (thus  validated)  uncertainties.  

The  video  projection  The  Lovers  shows  a  young  man  and  young  woman  in  bed(s).  Their  similar  

postures  suggest  relationship,  but  they  are  not  together.  They  each  have  a  different  blanket  to  warm  

them  at  the  same  point.  Why  blankets?  Always  questions.  But  I  feel  I  should  shut  off  curiosity:  they  

are  in  bed,  dressed  but  not  really  dressed.  Then  there  is  the  alarm  felt  (are  they  ok?  Are  they  

breathing?)  I’m  questioning  again.    It  is  their  crooked  ‘fallen’  postures  that  recall  photojournalism  of  

victims  of  disaster  or  massacre.  Again  I’m  unsure  of  my  response  –  are  they  lovely  young  people  

chilled  out  on  their  beds,  or  are  they  fallout  from  some  holocaust?  

In  the  video  projection  Forest,  a  young  woman  in  a  coat  stands  so  still.  Look  long  enough  and  squirrels  

play  behind  her.  She  will  stand  forever  one  feels,  monumental  but  ordinary,  girl  heroin  icon.  

The  wind  sound  plays  louder,  as  I  pass  the  sound  installation  Wind  carrier  to  the  last  room.  The  room  

has  a  row  of  small  paintings,  mostly  in  tones  of  black  and  white.  At  first  it  looks  like  a  series  of  prints,  

but  they’re  hand-­‐drawn  and  painted.    They  speak  of  self-­‐abnegation  but  simultaneously  of  the  

assertion  of  the  artist  reengaged  with  the  physical  medium,  dark  though  it  is.  

 

Gillian  Wright  

25  February  2008