Exhibition companion essay commissioned by Toi Moroki CoCA from Bojana Rimbovska on the occasion of Peter Robinson’s Fieldwork, 3 March - 27 May 2018. Full exhibition photos can be viewed at fieldwork.website; photos in this essay by Daniela Aebli, courtesy of CoCA & Peter Robinson

Scattered across, between, and outside of CoCA’s gallery spaces are Peter Robinson’s delicate wire forms. Each holds their space within the demanding environment of CoCA’s brutalist building which has played host to a variety of exhibitions throughout its fifty-year history, and is again activated through Robinson’s playful spatial interventions. Evident in the exhibition are some common threads which have carried throughout his recent practice, namely his interest in the ways in which spatial arrangements are used to create new lines of sight and lead to a more conscious interaction with the gallery space. Fieldwork also invites the audience to engage in a conversation around the language of sculpture, and presents Robinson’s ongoing exploration of artistic convention and our consumption of it. It is an exhibition which is grounded: grounded in Ōtautahi – a place that connects to his own history as a boy growing up in Canterbury and his training as an artist, grounded in the space of the gallery – which becomes expanded and reconsidered as a site – and grounded in the space between work and viewer where meanings are continually being negotiated and constructed.

Fieldwork marks Robinson’s return to Ōtautahi, this being his first solo show in the city since the earthquakes. In 2017, he was a contributing artist to the Paemanu: Nohoaka Toi exhibition (also held at CoCA), which saw his brightly coloured felt forms hanging high and low on the gallery walls as if bouncing around the space. Fieldwork, however, offers a new body of work, one which Robinson has developed directly in response to the site. Woven throughout it are purposeful connections to the region that reference his personal history and gesture towards an exploration of twentieth century art historical discourse. Having grown up on a farm in Ashburton before moving to Ōtautahi to study at the Ilam School of Fine Arts, this idea of ‘fieldwork’ seems appropriate as a title and a concept through which to consider his work. It references a landscape – multiple landscapes in fact – as he constructs visual fields which are sparsely punctuated by his sculptural forms on the floor, walls and ceilings, and follow no discernible pattern while continually disrupting your gaze as you move through the space. One work in particular evokes the farming fields of the Canterbury plains, as hundreds of silver galvanized wires have been haphazardly placed on the ground mimicking a pile of hay. The lustrous quality of the wires reflects the light and catch the eye from a distance, again bringing attention to the expansive space which they occupy. The hanging grids which dominate the space in the Mair gallery can also be read as alluding to the grid layout of the city. They create a referential landscape that connects to the colonial history of Ōtautahi and ground the exhibition within the city, past and present, as the gallery itself has not shifted from its original position within the four avenues.

Furthermore, the materiality of the works themselves contribute to the construction of invisible fields, such as those created by the magnetic sculptures in the exhibition. These magnetic components literally anchor the works in the space as their magnetic attraction is often solely responsible for their attachment to the building and between the individual components of the work itself. This makes their position precarious, and subject to the viewer’s understanding of the forces at play as some people, for example those with pacemakers, will be directly impacted by something that remains invisible to the eye but dictates their movement through the space.

‘Fieldwork’ as a title also frames the exhibition in a way which acknowledges the processes behind its making. In the lead up to the instillation, Robinson made multiple visits to the gallery to explore the building and surrounding areas, which have changed considerably over time.  This research-based approach around the context that he is working within extends beyond the physical and considers the many artistic influences which inform his practice. Artists such as Richard Tuttle and Nora Schultz, whose sculptural practices incorporate found or readily available industrial materials like metal rods, tubes, and discarded wood which combined with the simple manipulation of these materials within the gallery space brings them into conversation with Robinson’s work. The audience too becomes an important part of this conversation. Thinking about the concept of fieldwork in relation to this exhibition clearly positions the audience as active participants in the collection and use of the information presented throughout it. Visitors to the gallery are bringing their own bias and knowledge into the space and drawing their own conclusions. It is a reminder that the nature of fieldwork – and the way we experience art of any kind – is always multi-directional and subjective as it is unable to be removed from the self. This element of self-reflexivity is encouraged as it makes space for constant reinterpretation of the works and acknowledges both internal and external influences which frame peoples experience of the exhibition.

Fieldwork also offers a refreshing treatment of the gallery space which has previously hosted massive and highly immersive exhibitions. The brutalist building – a fine example of the Christchurch Style and designed by Minson, Henning-Hansen and Dines – was purpose built as a gallery, and as such, offers a lot of light, height, and wall space with which to play around with. At first, Fieldwork appears to push back against this by having works that appear disproportionate in scale to the space and some that are scattered in dimly lit corners or obstructed by the architecture itself. Such tactics bring attention to the architectural features of the space which might otherwise go largely unnoticed or be perceived as being disconnected from the works on show. Robinson’s sculptural forms respond to the architecture in playful ways and remind the viewer that this is an active space. Long, textured, and anodized aluminium rods lean against the corners of the gallery and draw the eye up towards the ceiling, emphasising the point at which the two walls converge. Similarly, the wire work in the Ground Floor Gallery which is attached to a metal sprinkler pipe on the ceiling, as well as the work situated in the lift, bring attention to the services of the building and hint at its human occupation. Being reminded of this as people make their way around the show acknowledges the fact that it is more than an exhibition space – it is a workplace, a site of leisure and entertainment, and a site with its own history of which Fieldwork is only a small part of.

In other ways, the interplay between the sculptures and the architecture can also make something less visible. For example, a work made from very thin white wire blends into the surrounding white wall and is only revealed when people move closer to it. Another sculpture sits on the stairs between a wall and a glass divider and its reflection, as opposed to the object itself, is slowly revealed as people turn the corner. The careful placement of these works encourages people to slow down and consider them more closely, which is refreshing given the fast-paced approach to almost everything else in modern society. This idea of objects hiding in plain sight also contributes to the sense of playfulness that runs throughout the exhibition and it reminds us how reliant we are on the cues given by the built environment when navigating the space.

In a more subversive move, Fieldwork spills outside the galleries and pushes back against the museological convention of displaying works within a few designated areas. There are sculptures scattered throughout the building that occupy liminal spaces such as stairways, toilets, a fire corridor, and a balcony. Some of the works are easy to spot and draw attention to themselves through their bright colouring and prominent placement, but others are tucked away in dim or inconspicuous corners of the building which have been previously inaccessible to the general public. Free movement throughout the entire space is encouraged but is again mediated in subtle ways, and perhaps carries with it some anxieties around encountering these sculptures in places that might not necessarily be seen as ‘spaces of art’. Gallery maps and arrows also guide people to the works like a treasure hunt which removes the possibility of a chance encounter, and glass doors and rope barriers section off specific works from the viewer. The responsive nature of this exhibition means that the architecture has a large role in dictating the placement of the works and therefore should not be seen as something which is independent from the rest of the exhibition. By having works scattered throughout the building, the space is conceived of as a whole and people are invited to examine the gallery space in greater detail and look at it more conceptually, question where it begins and ends (if such judgements can be made at all), and consider why this ambiguity might be uncomfortable given the lasting influence of the white cube model of display.[1]

As a viewer, it’s impossible to remain passive when encountering Fieldwork. Curiosity, and to a degree, confusion encourage people to look closer, move further into the field laid out in the space, and decipher in their own way the visual language presented by Robinson. The participatory quality of the show is best demonstrated by the heightened sense of bodily awareness people gain when attempting to navigate the space. Their carefully choreographed movements are interrupted by moments of unpredictability when they are ambushed by a work as they turn corners, open doors, or shift their gaze. Even private moments are fair game with works waiting to be uncovered in the toilet cubicles. Such encounters urge visitors to spend time with the work and find their own ways of connecting to it. The exhibition is participatory not in the sense that it is tactile, but because it acknowledges that looking is not a passive act, particularly when followed by a conscious effort to comprehend what is in front of us, how it is framed, and how this feeds into the overall perception of the exhibition.

Although the element of surprise is, for the most part, a luxury afforded to first time visitors to the exhibition, Fieldwork continues to offer new ways of interacting with space and form with every visit. By occupying what is often considered to be an authoritative cultural space, his forms may appear certain in their status as ‘art objects’ within the gallery, but they are bringing into question the space itself and reflecting on the histories of modernist sculpture which are entangled with contemporary art spaces and practice. CoCA, with its long history in Ōtautahi and an institution which has found its place in Robinson’s own career as a Fine Art student and now as a practicing artist, seems like an appropriate setting for these conversations. The thoughts which arise from spending time amongst Fieldwork are not always coherent, but nor do they have to be. As a visitor, any frustration at this incoherence or the caution with which you have to move throughout the space and be constantly alert is undercut by the sense of playfulness of being caught in a perpetual game of hide-and-seek with his sculptures.

[1] The ‘white cube’ model has become the most common method of displaying modern and contemporary art in the Western museological tradition. It is often characterised by galleries with white walls, even lighting, ample room between artworks, and offers minimal descriptive information about the works on display. Its supposed neutrality has been (and continues to be) heavily critiqued, however, the ideology of the white cube remains pervasive today. For a detailed discussion into the development of the white cube as a display format please see Brian O’Doherty’s essay “Notes on the Gallery Space” in his book: Inside the White Cube: The Ideology of the Gallery Space. Available here: http://arts.berkeley.edu/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/arc-of-life-ODoherty_Brian_Inside_the_White_Cube_The_Ideology_of_the_Gallery_Space.pdf