Painting, Victorian College of the Arts
By Rachel Liu
Slow looking is no easy feat when you’re engulfed in a sea of artworks. The constant pressure to see more leaves little room for reflection. Counteracting this haste, however, are the works of Ciara Symons, Ella Rizzi, and Naomi Milne, where objects and ideas become suspended in states of repetition and unceasing motion.
Symons’ Mnemonic Duology pieces together a diptych of fragmented utterances. On the left, cut-out phrases from Samuel Beckett’s absurdist play Waiting for Godot are recognisable amongst segments of choral music, where various translations of “god” are interspersed with repeated calls for “silence” and “memory”. This multiplicity of sounds is juxtaposed with the abundance of (literal) rests and inaction on the right. In tracing the web of associations between the two planes, I am equally inspired and perplexed. How should we comprehend Symons’ impassioned “summoning” of a higher being? Or are we, like the protagonists of Beckett’s play, caught in a meaningless cycle of repetition? The voices of Mnemonic Duology rise and fall in a disjointed chorus, ultimately fading into silence. The waiting stretches on, eternal and unresolved—I am plunged into a perpetual state of confusion.
Ella Rizzi’s Imitami series conveys a similar sense of uncertainty, albeit in a quieter, more intimate way. Twenty-two canvases of abstracted forms, modelled from personal photo archives, attempt to preserve the fleeting impressions of family life. The layering of ochres, muted greens and dark blues infuses the work with a melancholic warmth. I am fascinated by the recurrence of certain forms and figures—there is an insistent, almost compulsive rehearsal of memories embedded in Rizzi’s artistic practice. An unidentifiable woman, standing in a Mediterranean-esque courtyard; a table, meticulously laid out for a meal; the same woman, now sat under the garden steps… In repetition, scenes of daily life oscillate between obscurity and recognition, bursting with suggestion yet never clear enough to be decoded. Imitami highlights the tensions inherent in capturing an unfamiliar past—between yearning for a bygone time and the alienation arising from such rumination.
On an adjacent wall, Naomi Milne’s Rotating Steel Block is an enthralling collision of surfaces. Dangling from a rotating motor, a weathered steel block is dragged across the studio wall, leaving behind two glaring streaks of metallic residue with each turn. This process is slow and strangely meditative. There are periods of stillness, when the steel block comes to a halt, caught between the unrelenting, torsional force of the motor and the quiet resistance of the drywall. The rope coils—one, two, three times—until the block can no longer withstand this tension, and then spins in the opposite direction with an even greater force. The cycle continues. Beyond an exploration of material encounters, Milne’s work invokes a reflection on the Sisyphean routines in life.
These works appear to be marked by an “oozing” of time that slows down the advancement of thoughts, memories, and movements. I find myself bound in an endless cycle of questioning, mulling over patterns and connections that are only partially revealed. Symons, Rizzi, and Milne offer no remedy to these dilemmas, instead inviting us to linger in a state of unhurried contemplation.
Rachel has recently completed a Bachelor of Arts (Art History/Psychology) at The University of Melbourne.