The latest solo exhibition 'Glissando' by the multifaceted Hans Kreiner offers a set of installation works with a certain whimsy and musicality. Evidence of the artist's hand and a laborious rhythmical process contribute to collectively bind these old and new works together onto one track.
'Glissando' is a work that has its origins in Kreiner’s 'Epiphyte', a similar piece created for the 2008 'Palmer Sculpture Biennial', which as its title suggests was attached to a living sheoak tree in the landscape. The new version sees an organic plant-like formation inhabiting the corner wall of the gallery and comprising 766 impressive pieces of hand-cut brass shim. Like a hot desert mirage it teases from afar with a visible warmth shedding itself upon the proximate walls. On approach its glow is infectious, spreading like sunrise over your face. I found this piece intriguing indeed given its connection to a percussionist’s brass chime tree, often used to sound out an upward gliss. For as long as I can recall this particular sound has conjured up landscape, a bright and magical place full of sun and tendrils. I have enjoyed recalling this work as it seems to aggregate inside your mind, becoming more grandiose than its exemplar.
In Breeder (2007), text excerpts from 'The Dunwich Horror' written in 1928 by HP Lovecraft have been skillfully carved in gothic cleverness from off-cuts of canvas awning. The set of six lengths adorn the walls in an organised, yet haphazard fashion. An awning is commonly retro shelter from droopy days, sagging with sentiment; yet this is not mildew-ridden, sun-ravaged, wind-battered canvas, this striated specimen is pristine and preserved. The more I look the less I see. I am outside looking in; appropriate material. Like a foreigner I feel driven to stomp my feet at its indecipherable gesticulating. Fragments of the language cut into the fabric would come to me when my eyes or concentration waned, leaving me thinking that the work sits best in the periphery, not in direct conscious understanding. This canvas cuts a figure reminiscent of the beauty and decorativeness of sheet music, appreciated in its own right regardless of whether one can play it on any kind of instrument. This too is the treatment one should give this work in relation to its subject matter. I can consider the ties to Lovecraft, yet it is unnecessary for enjoyment.
'Trigger', constructed carefully from scrap pine via mortice and tenon joints had me contemplating if this was a structure in its own right or whether these were the skeletal remains of something that came before. Louise Bourgeois’ work 'The Blind Leading the Blind' (1947-9) sprang to mind, both sending a nod in the direction of monolithic sculture with their trilithons and lintels, yet flaunting anthropomorphic tendencies which stir some kind of unnecessary pot of condolences within the viewer. The title suggests a small amount of provocation may cause it to snap, dire consequences ensuing. Given the unlikely angle of its stability it seems as though little force would be required for its return to the salvage heap whence it came.
I drew more parallels to 'The Dunwich Horror' via 'Temple', an exposé of some sort of phantasmagorical creature, likely to be half-human (from a certain angle) with its insides lying neatly on the floor. This incredible feat of scalpel agility is quite a marvel. The monster façade realised its proportions only via simple suspension points as well as the canvas threads coursing through its gargantuan capillary system. An entire world seems to have been carved out of this two and a half metre length of plain canvas, one that I was happy to get lost within.
Overall I am certain that the awkwardness of the Prospect Gallery space does not do the work any favours and would gladly revisit this show if it were to be mounted elsewhere. This is a delicate offering with a sturdy backbone constituted by great consideration and depth.