Once as a young child, I asked my mother why the asphalt on roads and footpaths was always black or gray. As a fan of rainbows I wondered why lots of different colors were not used instead to make inner Sydney’s urban landscape more visually interesting.
Similarly, the palette of Australian artist Kenzee Patterson’s works are overwhelmingly achromatic. With his upbringing in suburban Sydney forming a basis for much of his conceptual practice, the 32-year-old artist has often turned to materials of utility. On a recent residency in Montreal at the Darling Foundry—the result of a five-year relationship between the organization and Artspace, a contemporary independent institution in Sydney—he found himself pondering how to introduce color to his practice.
Patterson’s current exhibition, “Constant Negative,” at Darren Knight Gallery in Sydney, presents the fruits of this residency, including its own rainbow in the form of an aluminium ruler bent into an arc. The chemical reactions produced by electroplating the ruler created an opalescent rainbow effect that, incidentally, is more akin to that found in an oil slick seen on asphalt after rain than the cartoon rainbows of my childhood dreams. No longer featuring its markings, the ruler now merely suggests, rather than precisely provides, measurements.
This is Patterson’s modus operandi: creating objects that appear simple, but contain much more. Conceptual art of this nature can sometimes be frustrating, with the details in the title and medium sometimes barely enough to entice the average viewer into deeper consideration of the work. However, Patterson’s work avoids falling into this category, as his combination of slick execution and rich, often autobiographical narratives woven through his bodies of work is elegant, sophisticated and rewarding.
In considering the role of color in his work, Patterson has given much thought to perception itself. The bare wall, the blank page, the empty screen (2014) features the work of ocularist Marie-France Clermont, who is usually tasked with creating one artificial eye based on a patient’s existing “good” eye. As part of Patterson’s project, over the course of one afternoon in Montréal, Clermont created small acrylic replicas of the artist’s irises, which she then meticulously painted to resemble their real-life counterparts. By the time Clermont had completed constructing both of Patterson’s “eyes,” the light in the room had changed, resulting in a barely perceptible difference between the resulting left and right prostheses. Like Monet’s repeated rendering of a single subject under different light conditions, this variance reminds viewers of the subjective truth of perception.
This difference is made even more elusive for many viewers due to the objects’ presentation on a tall plinth at precisely Patterson’s eye height. However, for those who are able to face off with the work, attempts to meet its “gaze” are frustrated by the acrylic handles that remain in place of the eyes’ pupils. One feels that removing them might give the fake eyes a sentience that would rival those of Patterson’s actual ocular organs.
Looking at a different instance of visual frustration, another of Patterson’s works focuses on the non-photo blue pencils that are conventionally used by draughtspeople to avoid the photocopier from picking up the marks they make on plans. By using these pencils in a series of drawings featuring various models of photocopiers, from Kyocera KM-3530 (2016) to Konica Minolta bizhub C450 (2016), Patterson pits erasure against creation, and the analog against the digital. This is a work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction that has been taken to what seems to be a logical, self-referential conclusion.
The glorious yellow funnel of Money Spinner (2016) is a sight familiar to many Australians of Patterson’s generation. The large, fiberglass funnel placed atop a bucket could be found in shopping centers across the country, a ruse to entice charity donations as one watched a hypnotically spinning coin moving inevitably towards its fate: a hole in the center. Patterson has recreated the funnel, which sits sans bucket on the floor of the gallery. Balanced on one side of its the lip and funnel tip, it no longer invites coins to spin within it, but instead suggests that very gesture itself, as one imagines the funnel rolling around on its axis in an endless circle.
In the accompanying video work, Money Spinner (Infinite Extent) (2016), the yellow funnel is visually flattened: filmed from above and projected onto the floor. Within it, a coin is shown circling endlessly, hypnotizing viewers waiting in vain for the coin to disappear down the hole. The coin itself is no ordinary one—a rare 50 cent piece that was one of the first produced after Australia’s switch to a decimal currency in 1966. Made from alloy comprising 80 percent silver, the coin’s intrinsic value soon surpassed that of its face value, leading to the creation of a replacement 50 cent piece three years later—the dodecagonal coin that is still used today.
Silver reappears in a number of forms throughout the show, including two works etched onto mirrors that highlight the alchemy of perception. Another, two-part work titled Infinite focus (2016) depicts the infinity symbol rendered as a silver-gelatin photogram of an object, and the object itself rendered in silver reclaimed from photographic fix. The two parts gaze at each other across the gallery, burning an infinity-shaped hole in the negative space between them.
“Constant Negative” is on view at Darren Knight Gallery, Sydney, until July 16, 2016.
Kenzee Patterson’s “Constant Negative” is on view at Darren Knight Gallery, Sydney, until July 16, 2016.