It's Art

Alyssa De Leo

I find myself thinking about the past, present and future, along with Mackenzie’s installation. It was not simply something interesting to look at or figure out. It was a trip down memory lane and back to my childhood.

I find myself thinking about the past, present and future, along with Mackenzie’s installation. It was not simply something interesting to look at or figure out. It was a trip down memory lane and back to my childhood.

They call me ‘arty’. I write, I read, I watch and have studied film. However, I may be the least typically ‘arty’, arty person I know. The power of narrative is a beautiful thing to me, with the three-act structure playing out like a perfect numeric equation. Narrative can inspire discussions, revelations and empathy like nothing else can. While often inclined towards more conventional forms of storytelling, I can take metaphor and ambiguity in small doses. What I cannot take is when the credits of a movie roll and I must jump onto Wikipedia to read what the hell just happened. David Lynch is the enemy and I like answers. Shakespeare may be one of the greats, but all his characters speak in jibber jabber to me. The words in that poem sound lovely, but I don’t know what they mean.

While many people love this sort of thing, I just don’t. I have always been like this, not just artistically but realistically. As someone who has not had a lot of control over the events of my existence, thanks to depleting illnesses and never-ending anxieties, I like to be in control where possible. When there is a problem, I want to get to the root of it. Why did this happen? What does it mean? And what can I do to fix it? 

I am what you might call an art cynic. This is evident in my relationship with visual art, be it painting, sculpture or photography. I have found myself in many art galleries and successfully blended in by undertaking socially accepted gallery viewing etiquette. There has always been an appreciation for the work, but that rarely goes beyond the aesthetic. Much like a child, I am drawn to loud, colourful, big objects and walk past anything that appears small or ordinary. To me, a blue square is a blue square. 

“We had a running joke of saying, ‘It’s art’, whenever we saw a piece we didn’t understand mocking them for their mundanity. A bunch of garbage bags glued to a wall? ‘It’s art’. A hammock swinging from side to side? ‘It’s art’. An upside-down tree? ‘It’s art’.”

My sister and I visited the Art Gallery of South Australia in 2019. We had a running joke of saying, ‘It’s art’, whenever we saw a piece we didn’t understand mocking them for their mundanity. A bunch of garbage bags glued to a wall? ‘It’s art’. A hammock swinging from side to side? ‘It’s art’. An upside-down tree? ‘It’s art’. We were on our high horses and amused by the fact you could literally call anything art these days. 

Walking through the space of the NGV’s Melbourne Now exhibition four years later, I put on my best ‘I understand art’ face, turning on the social etiquette once again. Ethereal and atmospheric music vibrates through the walls, which I try to use to get into a philosophical mood. There are sculptures, textile works, paintings, photographs, collages and more. All are undoubtedly impressive but spark no reaction from me other than a quick scan. Self-doubt creeps in. I probably could have been a doctor if I had applied myself. 

In the corner of the space is a closed off room that catches my eye. The entrance gives way to a large burst of inviting colour. The child in me sees something big, bright and shiny, so I head towards it. I enter the room and am met with Taree Mackenzie’s Pepper’s ghost effect, circles, 4 variations. The ambient music is slightly muffled here, but the vibrations feel more intense, like a distant thunderstorm or earthquake. The four-sided piece features two screens on each wall, separated by glass. Each screen displays a circle, some stationary and some in motion. They lie against vibrant backgrounds of deep purples, fiery reds, pretty pinks and oceanic blues. The installation encompasses the room, with only a little space around each side. I feel like a tiny ant with limited power against its stature and brightness. I walk its perimeters several times and take in the various circles. It is at this point that I start to think I am losing my mind. 

Some of these circles have changed or multiplied. 

I could have sworn I saw an eyeball watching me like Big Brother.

Or the shape of a pizza missing a slice. 

I lean into the gap between the panes and wave my hand in front of the glass. Is it a mirror? Is it clear? I am confused but intrigued. It seems that Mackenzie is offering me a mystery to solve, and in a way, unlock some meaning. This is obviously an optical illusion of some sort, but there is more to it. I feel a sense of juvenile glee like I am back in school cracking a puzzle in maths or doing an experiment in science. The circles remind me of the shapes I would have played with in those formative years. This is something I can work with. Challenge accepted.

After some time with and away from the piece, I realise that Mackenzie has intentionally broken the sacred rule: ‘a magician never reveals their secrets’. The angled panes of glass between each screen reflect one circle onto the next, creating an image within another. The illusion is manipulated based on the movements of the viewer, so what you see or do not see is quite literally the difference between standing to your left or right. The work requires time to fully absorb, experience and figure out. It doesn’t operate with the way I usually view art. Each minute with Mackenzie’s work reveals a new layer or detail I hadn’t noticed before.

Other patrons begin to walk into the room and view the work. I want to yell ‘Not now! I am having an art epiphany here’.  

There is something else happening too. I’m not sure what it is. 

*

Installation view of Taree Mackenzie’s Pepper’s Ghost Effect, Circles, 4 Variations, 2023. Photography by Alyssa DeLeo.

THE HUMAN EYEBALL (a small circle reflected onto a larger circle)

I really hate how that thing is watching me. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare? You can’t go anywhere without being watched these days. I know this little thing in my pocket is collecting all this data on me like it’s writing a PhD thesis. My every look, every scroll - whether I pause on a video for two seconds or watch it in its entirety. The person next to me looks up something and then it comes up on MY feed. Are they listening to us? I’m beginning to think my sister was smart for putting blu-tack over her webcam. Sometimes I wish social media hadn’t gone farther than MySpace… or Club Penguin.

THE CAT EYEBALL (a material, 3D circle hanging from a string half-rotated in front of a screen, reflected onto another material, 3D circle hanging from a string in front of a screen)

I don’t understand how people don’t like cats. Yes, I know dogs are Man’s best friend, but I've always related to cats more. You can’t help but respect their snobbery and pretension. They know what they want, and don’t pretend just to get your love and attention. All cats are narcissists, but at least they’re open about it.

THE CLOCK (half circles at different angles reflected onto each other)

I remember when our primary school teacher would bring out those big yellow plastic clocks, and where learning to tell the time suddenly became a little rave. Now that I think of it, my Mum actually taught me to tell the time, because my teacher (who told Grade 3 me that I would never get anywhere in life because I couldn’t throw a potato when we were learning measurement) was absolutely incompetent. The good old days. 

THE PIECE OF PIE FROM TRIVIAL PURSUIT (also half circles at different angles reflected onto each other)

There was nothing like the high of winning a piece of pie in Trivial Pursuit. Our edition was pretty old, so I didn’t know a lot of the answers. Regardless, it was fun to play along and pretend like I did. Which is what I still do in every aspect of life.

THE RED BLOOD CELL (a small circle)

Where were these guys when I needed them? You, along with the other white blood cells and platelets, were not there when I needed you. I was just a child. I could have really used your help, but you just gave in and let the cancer latch onto you like a toxic ex.  I’ve got plenty of you guys now, so you can just fuck off. As they say, if you don’t love me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.

THE ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE (a material, 3D circle hanging from a string in front of a screen)

Honestly, what is real and what isn’t? How will we be able to tell in the future if something has been made by a real person - who has loved and lost, shed blood, sweat and tears, and lived the human experience - or HAL 9000? What scares me the most is that we won’t be able to.

THE VENN DIAGRAM (two same-sized circles reflected onto each other, but slightly apart)

Ah, that’s better. If I think about A.I. too much I go down all these Terminator scenarios. The venn diagram is nice and simple. Two perfect circles overlapping, illustrating how things are both similar and different. Perfect, uncomplicated logic. I like that a lot. Can I stay here?

*

I leave the room and sense a disturbance in the Force.

I find myself thinking about the past, present and future, along with Mackenzie’s installation. It was not simply something interesting to look at or figure out. It was a trip down memory lane and back to my childhood. Back when circles were just circles. At the same time, it was a key directly unlocking my adult fears. Maybe these circles were never really circles and only now is life’s illusion deciding to reveal its inner workings in the way the piece does. 

It is also not lost on me that my experience with Pepper’s ghost effect, circles, 4 variations gave me what I deeply crave and what most visual art lacks—answers. In the past, these works have closed themselves off to me, leaving me in the dark with no point of connection. Yet here was a work that was open and honest, which is hard to come by. Its transparency allowed me to uncover its secrets as well as my own. It was as if Mackenzie's piece had been tailor made for me, waiting and ready to reveal the answers I so desired and perhaps also didn’t want to hear. I have never observed artwork in this way or come across anything that has challenged me to do so. 

It occurs to me that hell has frozen over. This is not a film, book or even a song, and I think we are beyond materiality and aesthetic. Who knew circles could have such an effect? Damn it, now I’ve got that Post Malone song stuck in my head.

They say art is subjective for a reason. Maybe it is not about finding meaning in the most abstract of things. Maybe it is not about being an art historian. Maybe it is about being okay with the fact that I won’t like or understand certain things and there are others who will. On the contrary, there are things I love and resonate with that others will approach with my very cynicism. That’s okay too! 

I was likely attuned to art all along but hadn’t been given the chance to recognise it. It’s time to give myself more credit, be less of a Squidward (who is actually quite the art lover) and keep my mind as open as possible. I do not have to love everything and love does not have to be instant. I am constantly changing as a person, and … shudders … as an artist. Because that is what I am, ironically. I am ‘arty’. I am a creator of things and an architect of words and phrases. I and what I see, changes with place, time and perspective. Just like Mackenzie’s work and my interaction with it. There is a piece of art out there for everyone, you just have to look. 

Am I still an art cynic? Yes, but maybe a little less thanks to Mackenzie.