Day Two of the Plymouth Arts Weekender 2017: Town and Millbay

Today did not disappoint in the quantity of stuff I managed to cram into 7 hours, and I'm sure my pedometer is sitting in the five digits region I've done so much walking. But it feels good to be engaging with this city in such a rewarding way. I hope I have done these installations even half the justice they deserve.

NB: as this article was written in collaboration with Plymouth University's SU: Media online magazine, some editing has been done which I have applied (in places).

As I very much predicted, having set out today with a plan of what I wanted to see and when...nothing really permitted me to follow said plan.

The time was half past nine and I arrived into town to view Temenos, an installation at the Methodist Church Central Hall. The installation revolved around the idea of thresholds, sanctuaries, and new things coming into being, only to find the opening time had changed. Afterwards, I was on a mission to find the Orbit Bus Session but this was unfortunately delayed. I came to realise that is was possible to be too organised.
Fortunately, I was now able to return to the former sanctuary of Ric Stott and Ian Adams. Through a series of 10 paintings (Stott) and poems (Adams), a viewer was taken on their own journey of self-discovery, the former balancing warm swathes of colour with cool scribbles and scratches over beautifully simplistic black and white drawings, which the latter gave greater spiritual meaning to. By the end, only warmth and strength remained, as if ready to start the ‘story’ over, an apt method given its religious vibe.

The Truth Wall - Plymouth What's On stand

Following this, I thought I would be at a loss once more until The Truth Wall began shouting its anti-politics at me from the "What’s On" stand. Organised by the Kiss and Bite Letterpress Studio, any potential traces of old announcements were virtually smothered by the haphazard pasting of 80s-style propaganda. Its boldly coloured declarations of ‘Don’t Be Calm, Be Angry’ were instantly eye-catching and subvert the typical 'Keep Calm and Carry On' narrative. After circling this outspoken piece a few times like an inquisitive dog, I wandered to the Hoe in search of Anita Lander; her unique decision to sit and listen on a bench beneath a tree for seven hours intrigued me. Alas, she too was nowhere to be seen so I turned myself back to town to continue the next leg of my arty odyssey.

Having sufficiently caffeinated myself with an iced Americano and picked up my constant companion in all things arty, Mark Jones, we investigated BankRUN, a small wooden ATM created by Lara Luna Bartley to mark the 10^th anniversary of Northern Rock’s collapse. Having ‘activated’ the machine by trusting my finger to a small hole in the display, a magical hand provided me with the option of three bank notations and one of three radical economists to adorn the note. After a brief wait, the chosen note was delicately ejected through a slot, bearing Ben Dyson’s face on one side, and a female face oddly like my own on the other. Wishing it had any monetary value, we advanced to the bus stop in anticipation of the Wonderzoo Bus Tour organised by Peter Davey. Just up the road sat the number 34 Orbit bus, its top deck stuffed with brilliant pink orbs, taunting my impatience and self-inflicted schedule, but I had stranger things to attend to on a bus. Joined by some of last night’s Versify crew, we experienced out-of-tune group renditions of The Sound of Music. Oddly enough, West country comedian Richard James appeared to be more at home shouting at people on a bus (despite the unconventionality of doing just that) than small talk. Versify’s own poet, Nick Ingram, was looking to beat his own record for the verbal 100-metre dash, before Versify’s organiser Marian tantalised the ears with her poem on whales, whales, whales. After an hour, we’d ended up so far out of town, we needed to catch another bus back.

Once returned to familiar ground, we trekked out to what I perceived to be the final location on my schedule, the Plymouth School of Creative Arts, playing host to multiple installations for the weekender, which included:

The Curious Cattewater Dog Cabinet (Zoe and Callum Moscrip): a means of bridging the gap between artefact and community by bringing evidence of one such artefact (a shipwreck) to life in the form of a skeletal puppet dog. Despite its obviously deceased state, I felt it might move at any moment – if only the mechanism would allow it to.

In the Air… (Jenny Mellings): a set of three aerial painted scenes of remote landscapes – even as far as Saturn’s moon, Titan – which provided a way to make the distant seem nearer, and the reverse, in a tangible space.

What do you see? (Janine Rook): a series of visitor-created Rorschach inkblots intended to explore one’s psyche. Most of the images had a biological nature for me – lungs, tree, uterus – what could that be saying about my psyche?

Paradice Lost (Stuart Robinson and Kirsty Harris): in my quest for deeper meanings behind art, this minimalist interaction of a neon red sign saying ‘PARADICE’ (Robinson) and a colour scene of a mushroom cloud (Harris) said it all loud and clear. However, that was not all there was to it. Other interpretations emerged from my conversation with Stuart, such as the installation’s sense of not-rightness. This derived from the incorrect spelling of paradise and the innocuous ‘poof’ of the cloud.  It was through this conversation that my [true] final stop was mentioned: KARST’s contribution to We the People Are the Work, I Am Your Voice by Claire Fontaine.

In the spaces provided, we found a map of the British Isles composed of burnt matches, signifying a ‘tragedy perceived too late’, the smell of which tainted the air; and a set of three neon signs in red and white lighting up an otherwise pitch-black room which smelt of fresh paint. Their ambiguous messages allowed a viewer to question the concept of morals: I do it because it’s right/It’s right because I do it. 

An ominous self-portrait

The signs frighteningly seemed to communicate with one another as the individual words lit up, making me glad to leave the room – if only to peep into KARST’s own Peepshow. Through nine installed peepholes could be seen a snippet of the resident artists’ work, allowing the average viewer a glimpse behind the scenes, one piece proving difficult to tear Mark away from due to it living up to the installation’s name.

Phew, and with that, day two is wrapped. Any quotes are taken from the provided leaflets. Bring on day three!