The Dividing Line by Lisa Chandler by Lisa Chandler

lisa chandler the dividing line

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Hope just means another world might be possible, not promised, not guaranteed. Hope calls for action; action is impossible without hopeâ&#x20AC;? Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark

Lisa Chandler: The Dividing Line

This exhibition has been two years plus in the making, with Lisa and Sarah McClintock The Suter’s curator working together when Lisa has been in Nelson, or by email when Lisa is on the other side of the globe, in her studio in the Leipziger Baumwollspinnerei (Spinnerei), a well-known art hub in Leipzig, in what was once part of East Germany. This catalogue documents not only her first solo exhibition in Germany, but also her first major solo exhibition in a public art gallery in New Zealand. It is a great pleasure and privilege to have this exhibition here at The Suter; and to have witnessed Lisa’s journey as an artist, over the years. When I first saw her work Lisa was painting the landscapes that surrounded her, of the Abel Tasman, of Karamea and other beautiful wilderness places she had tramped through or experienced at the top of the South Island. After beginning her post graduate art training Lisa then became interested in anonymous transitional spaces; places like airports, or railway stations - the London underground; bus depots and transport hubs in Kuala Lumpur. Her spaces were urban and nondescript, populated but by crowds of ghostly figures, or single solitary figures that didn’t engage with us, the viewer. She made another shift in her work when she undertook an artist residency in China - a move towards a more critical attitude to urban space. She began depicting the transformation of urban spaces; metaphors for changes in society as traditional communities and areas fall into decay or are rapidly transformed into anonymous high-rises. Her series China Dream (2015), critiqued the expansion

of Beijing and offered sympathy for the aspiring individual and local culture. Lisa also started noticing this transformation in Leipzig and put this into her painting there; the tearing down, gentrification and re-purposing of character-filled buildings and traditional places. A selection of works from her Leipzig series, Between Yesterday & Tomorrow, were shown here in the first solo artist exhibition to be held in the Nelson Suter Art Society’s McKee Gallery when The Suter re-opened after renovations in late 2016. And now we have this exhibition; the works in The Dividing Line are about disruption; disruption of another kind - protests, rallies, movements for change. These are happening all around us. They can be divisive; they can have evil consequences; or they can lead to change for the better. Although there have been all these transitions in her practice, the continuing thread is her love of the act of painting; the substance of painting itself, the feel of the paint, manipulating paint and colour, and types of mark making. In The Dividing Line, Lisa effectively uses and harnesses this love of painting to make thought provoking work about historical and contemporary movements of protest. Julie Catchpole Director, The Suter Art Gallery, 16 February 2019

lisa chandler die trennlinien

solo exhibition 6 December 2018 - 5 January 2019 Archiv Massiv Gallery Leipziger Baumwollspinnerei Germany

Über Dinge, die uns trennen und doch uns einen? In der ersten Dezemberwoche wird im Kunstraum des archiv massiv auf dem Alten Baumwollsspinnereigelände in Leipzig eine wichtige Austellung eröffnet. Die neuseeländische Malerin Lisa Chandler stellt neue Arbeiten aus. Sie haben es in sich. Gerade im Hinblick auf die durch die Gelbwesten-Proteste in Paris hervorgerufenen Unruhen stehen die Gemälde mitten unter uns und geben eine Vorahnung dessen ab, was vielleicht auch in anderen europäischen Ländern passieren könnte. Künstler sind Beobachter des Alltags. Um nicht im Urschleim des antiken Ägyptens zu wühlen, bereits mittelalterliche Illustratoren bannten die Absurditäten des Alltags auf die Pergamente. Pieter Bruegel d.Ä. führt uns heute immer noch das Leben von vor 500 Jahren vor. Die Impressionisten stellten sich in die Landschaft und auf die Straßen und skizzierten die sich verändernde Welt um sie herum. Sie alle lebten in sowohl schwierigen als auch in prosperierenden Zeiten. Umwälzungen fanden immer statt. In dieser Tradition steht auch Lisa Chandler. Ihre Arbeiten sind jedoch von einer Aktualität und Brisanz geprägt, was die Neuseeländerin zu einer Kommentatorin des politischen Lebens macht. Die Künstlerin bezieht nicht eindeutig Stellung zu den derzeitigen politischen und gesellschaftlichen Umwälzungen, kommentiert diese aber mit einer bittersüßen Ironie. De neuseeländische Malerin und Grafikerin legt mit ihren aktuellen Arbeiten den Finger auf die Wunde, wenn wir – nicht nur – unsere mittlerweile etablierte Selfie-Kultur mit all seinen Facetten erfahren. Botschaften zu uns dringen, die verwischt, zerkratzt und nicht mehr lesbar und deshalb keine Botschaften mehr sind. Zerschundene Körper, maskenhafte und anonyme Gesichter und ein

Personal, das uns vertraut vorkommt aber doch so fremd. Demonstranten, die mit ihrem Protest allein stehen. Polizisten, die in ihren Uniformen bedrohlich erscheinen und den Habitus von Alien-Predatoren haben und ihren Sinn und Zweck den Rechtsstaat zu schützen verbrämen und wie dessen Feind die Bilder bevölkern. Wie in uns ein Unbehagen zu verstärken, arbeitet Lisa Chandler mit unterschiedlichen künstlerischen Techniken und einer gedämpften Farbigkeit. Sie schichtet Farben, nimmt sie wieder weg. Einst klar formulierte Botschaften verschwinden so zu unklaren Zeichen. Was uns vertraut vorkommt, verblasst in den Grau- und Pastellstufen ihrer Malerei. Schon allein mit ihrer gedämpften Tonart nähert sich die Künstlerin einer romantischen Sprache, wie Philipp Otto Runge sie in seinen Gemälden und in seinen Farbkreistheorien über die dissonanten Akkorde formulierte und wie sie u.a. heute auch Neo Rauch umzusetzen weiß. Doch in ihren Bildern ruft auch die Revolution. Spitzer formuliert, scheint die Reflexion über eine große weltweite Veränderung aus ihnen zu schwappen. Wie aus einem Nebel tauchen in ihren Bildern vor uns kontrastreiche Situationen auf, die im wahren Leben betrachtet schnell wieder im Rauch der Schnelllebigkeit verschwinden, wahrscheinlich im Internet. Beim Betrachten müssen wir uns zwangsläufig fragen: Wer ist Freund oder Feind? Wer ist Opfer und wer ist Täter? Mit wem können wir uns identifizieren? Ist der leblose Körper so etwas wie ein Märtyrer, der von einer Gestalt mit einem Selfie-Stick für Facebook oder Instagram abgelichtet wird? Oder ist das wahre Opfer der Täter, der für ein paar Klicks seine fünf Minuten Ruhm

sucht? Denn hinter den Situationen, die Lisa Chandler auf Leinwand bannt, steht die große Frage, wer in der Welt die Fäden in der Hand hält und wer sich lenken lässt. So gesehen dürften wir alle Marionetten eines entfesselten Wirtschaftssystems sein, das nur wenige lenken. Doch was schützt uns vor unserer Blindheit vor der großen Erkenntnis, scheint auch als große Frage in den Arbeiten der Neuseeländerin mitzuschwingen. Das scheinen nicht nur die Leipziger zu kennen, die das Scheitern eines politischen Systems und die daran knüpfende große politische und gesellschaftliche Umwälzung 1989 mit erlebt haben. Auch heute stehen – nicht nur – die Europäer vor großen Veränderungen. Die derzeitige Situation, dass Utopien mit Dystopien kämpfen, wird umso klarer, wenn wir auf die Ereignisse der großen politischen Gipfel schauen, wie in Hamburg 2017, die Krim-Krise, die Vernichtung des brasilianischen Urwalds, die Verseuchung der Natur durch Mikroplastik und Müll, die Konflikte in Nahost und die Verschärfung der sozialen Situationen vieler Menschen weltweit.

Muslimen in Europa zunehmen werden. Allein wie sehr Israel unter Druck steht, wie der wahabitische Islam den Terror unterstützt und entfacht, aber auch Iran sich nicht in Unschuld badet, muss – auch deutsche – Politiker_Innen angesichts der Entwicklungen in Deutschland aufhorchen und alarmieren lassen. Stattdessen werden innenpolitische Strohfeuer gegenüber die Krim- und Ukrainepolitik Russlands entfacht, die ebenfalls in Talkshows und Parteiveranstaltungen ideologisch verbrämt, also -antirussisch, diskutiert werden. Die eigentlichen Probleme gibt es hierzulande; Klüfte zwischen Arm und Reich, der etablierte Niedriglohnsektor mit seinen MindestlohnKompromissen, die damit verbundene Hartz-IV-Debatte und das Suchen nach den „faulen Arbeitslosen“ und „Bezügebettlern“, von Industrie, Wirtschaft und Internet abhängte Regionen, Pflegenotstand und der Qualitätsabschwung in der deutschen Haushaltspolitik. Nur das wenigste hat direkt oder indirekt etwas mit Migration zu tun. Es sind strukturelle Fehlleistungen, die ausnahmslos behördlich und politisch verursacht werden.

Gerade auch die aktuelle Gelbwesten-Bewegung in Frankreich, die am ersten Advent 2018 in Paris wegen ihrer Gewalttätigkeit für Furore und aufgescheuchte Politiker sorgt, gibt Anlass zur Besorgnis. Die Zerstörung von Kultur und Kunstgegenständen am und im Arc de`Triomphe deutet sich als Verneinung der Revolutionsideale von 1789 ff. an, wo auf europäischen Boden die ersten demokratischen Ordnungen der Moderne ihre, auch nicht ganz unblutig geführten, Anfänge nahmen. Die, bzw. „Hi-Jacking“ genannte, Unterwanderung der Gelbwesten-Protestbewegung, die auf soziale Missstände und Verwerfungen hinweisen und die wirtschaftsliberale Politik des französischen Präsidenten Emmanuel Macron kritisieren will, wurde offenkundig von militanten Extremisten jeglicher Coloeur dazu benutzt, um instabile Verhältnisse herbei zu führen. Inwieweit diese Bewegung, wie auch unter vorgehaltener Hand geraunt wird, auch von islamistisch gesinnten Kräften dazu genutzt wurde, um, wie Ideologen des Islamischen Staates 2014/15 öffentlich ankündigten, die europäischen Staaten zu destabilisieren, kann zum jetzigen Zeitpunkt nur spekuliert werden.

Lisa Chandler versteht es aber auch, in ihrer Malerei uns Auswege zu zeigen. Denn das innere „Exit“ Schild in uns bewahrt uns selbst und die Menschheit vor der Apokalypse der „walking dead“ – hoffentlich. Die Warnblinkanlage in uns müsste daher grell aufleuchten, und dass nicht nur wegen der außenpolitischen Verwerfungen sondern auch innenpolitisch im Hinblick auf die Migrations, Wirtschafts und Sozialpolitik.

Fakt ist aber, dass die Migrationsschübe von Muslimen – nicht nur die im islamischen Gepräge lebenden und verfolgten Kopten, Christen und Jesiden – aus den islamischen Ländern zunehmen und die Radikalisierung auch in Europa stattfindet, wenn sie nicht schon ohnehin radikalisiert in Europa ankommen. Dass auch in Deutschland diese Migrationspolitik in massiver Kritik steht, zeigt die Zunahme von registrierten Straftaten von Einwanderern in den letzten Jahren und als Antwort darauf das Erstarken des nationalkonservativen Randes hierzulande. Das Großwerden der „Alternative für Deutschland“ (AfD) demonstriert, dass Kritik an der hiesigen Politik inzwischen einen Kanal gefunden hat und offensichtlich in den etablierten Parteien kein Gehör findet. Es ist durchaus – angesichts der radikalen Entwicklungen in der arabisch-sunnitischen aber auch -schiitischen Welt – anzunehmen, dass die Konflikte mit

Things that separate us and yet define us

In the first week of December an important exhibition will open in the Archiv Massiv Gallery at the Spinnerei in Leipzig where New Zealand painter Lisa Chandler will exhibit a new body of work. The theme will be challenging to us all, especially with the current riots by the yellowvested protesters in Paris. These paintings foreshadow what could easily happen in other European countries. Artists are observers of everyday life. We don’t need to go back too far in history but even in ancient Egypt and the middle ages illustrators recorded the absurdities of everyday life on their parchments. Pieter Bruegel the Elder is still relevant to life 500 years later. The Impressionists took to the countryside and the streets, and sketched the changing world around them. They all lived in difficult as well as prosperous times. Upheavals always took place. Chandler is also of this tradition. However, her work is characterised by current events and volatility, making the New Zealander a commentator on political life. The artist does not take a clear stand on the current political and social upheavals, but comments on them with a bitter sweet irony. The New Zealand painter touches a sensitive point with her current work, when we not only experience our now established selfie culture with all its facets but messages that are blurred, scratched and unreadable and therefore no longer messages. Tattered bodies, mask-like and anonymous faces seem familiar yet very strange while protesters often stand alone. Policemen appear threatening in their uniforms and have the look of alien predators whose purpose is to protect the law and intimidate their enemy. As if she wants to reinforce our discomfort, Chandler

works with different artistic techniques and subdued hues. She layers colours, then takes them away again. Clearly formulated messages disappear into unclear signs. What seems familiar to us fades into the gray and pastel layers of her paintings. With her muted style, the artist comes closer to a romantic language, such as Philipp Otto Runge formulated in his paintings and in his color-circle theories about the dissonant chords, just as Neo Rauch knows how to express them today. But in her pictures the revolution is also calling. More sharply expressed, the reflection on a major global change seems to spill out of them. Out of the fog, contrasting situations appear in the pictures before us, which in real life quickly disappear again into the haze of fast-moving life, probably on the Internet. When looking at Chandler’s work, we must inevitably ask ourselves: who is friend or foe? Who is the victim and who is the perpetrator? Who can we identify with? Is the lifeless body something of a martyr who is being photographed by a figure with a selfie stick for Facebook or Instagram? Or is the real victim the culprit looking for his five minutes of fame with a few clicks? For behind the situations that Chandler captures on canvas, the big question is, who in the world holds the strings in their hand and who can be manipulated by them? From this point of view, we could all be puppets of an unleashed economic system which is run by only a few. But what blinds us to this great realisation seems to be a big question in the work of the New Zealander. This does not only seem to be familiar to the people of Leipzig, who witnessed the failure of a political system and the great political and social upheaval that followed in 1989. Also today, all Europeans – and not only them – are facing big changes. The current situation

where utopia’s struggle with dystopia’s becomes even clearer when we look at the events of the major political summits, as in Hamburg in 2017, the Crimea crisis, the destruction of the Brazilian jungle, the contamination of nature with micro plastics and garbage, the conflicts in the Middle East and the aggravation of social situations for countless people worldwide. Especially concerning is the current yellow vest movement in France with the first on Advent 2018 in Paris, because of the violence, furore and frightened politicians. The destruction of cultural and artistic objects at and in the Arc de Triomphe suggests a denial of the revolutionary ideals of 1789, where on European soil the first democratic orders of modernity took their beginnings, which were not quite bloodless. The “hi-jacking” infiltration of the yellow-vest protest movement, which points to social ills and upheavals, and criticises the liberal politics of French President Emmanuel Macron, was obviously used by militant extremists of any stripe to create unstable conditions respectively. To what extent this movement was also used by Islamist-minded forces in order to destabilise the European states, as ideologists of the Islamic State publicly announced in 2014/15, can only be speculated at the present time. But the fact is that the migration of Muslims – not just the Copts, Christians and Yazidis living and persecuted in the Islamic spirit – is growing out of the Islamic countries and the radicalisation is taking place in Europe too, if they do not already arrive in Europe radicalised anyway. The fact that this migration policy is also heavily criticised in Germany is shown by the increase in registered crimes committed by immigrants in recent years and, in response to this, the strengthening of the national-conservative faction in this country. The growing up of the “Alternative for Germany” (AfD) demonstrates that criticism of local politics has meanwhile found a channel and is obviously not heard in the established parties. In view of the radical developments in the Arab-Sunni as well as Shiite world, it is quite likely

that conflicts with Muslims in Europe will increase. When they realise just how much Israel is under pressure, how Wahhabi Islam terrorists support and ignite terror, and that Iran does not bathe in innocence, German politicians must pay attention to the developments in Germany and be alerted. Instead, internal politics against Russia’s Crimea and Ukraine policy are sparked and are also discussed in talk shows and party events ideologically focussed as anti-Russian. The real problems are in this country: the gap between poor and rich, the established low-wage sector with its minimum wage conditions, the associated Hartz IV debate and the search for the “lazy unemployed” and “begging beggars”, industry, economics and Internetdependent regions, care needs and the quality downturn in the German budget policy. Only very few directly or indirectly have anything to do with migration. These are structural failures that are invariably caused by government and politicians. But Lisa Chandler also knows how to show us ways out in her painting. Because the inner “exit” sign in us hopefully saves us and humanity from the apocalypse of the “walking dead”. The hazard warning system in us should be flashing brightly and not only because of foreign policy distortions but also because of domestic policy in terms of migration, economic and social issues. © Daniel Thalheim, November 2018 Art Historian ARTEFAKTE - The Journal for Culture and Art, Leipzig

Die weltweite Protestkultur in der Kunst Lisa Chandlers Eine umfangreiche Serie von Gemälden zum Thema staatsbürgerlicher Protest ist das Ergebnis von Lisa Chandlers Arbeit der vergangenen zwei Jahre. Monumentale Gemälde und Miniaturen auf Leinwand bestimmen dieses neue, künstlerisch überragende und gesellschaftskritische Oeuvre unter Verwendung verschiedenster Materialien und Techniken, Collagen und der erst seit kurzem von ihr angewandten Monotypie beziehungsweise „Monoprint“. Im monumentalen Gemälde Language of the unheard (Die Sprache der Unbeachteten), welches sie 2018 in Leipzig malte, sehen wir eine ungeheure Schlacht – eine Schlacht zwischen Licht und Finsternis, zwischen

Hoffnung und Verzweiflung, zwischen Demonstranten und bewaffneten Polizisten in Vollmontur. In seiner Intensität, in seiner Ansammlung von Körpern und durch strenge, formale Strukturen wie klare, ausdrucksstarke Diagonalen erinnert es an Picassos Guernica (1937). Im Gegensatz zum spanischen Künstler trennt Chandler die beiden Seiten deutlich voneinander und setzt Farben ein, wobei die Dynamik zwischen hell und dunkel bei ihr ebenfalls evident und vorherrschend ist. Während wir in Picassos Meisterwerk die Opfer und deren Leiden sehen, zeigt uns Chandler beide Seiten. Spannend und vielsagend erscheint es, wenn in ihrer Anordnung Picassos berühmte Lichtbringerin formal mit einem Polizisten im Vordergrund korrespondiert.

Pablo Picasso, Guernica, 1937, Öl auf Leinwand, 776.6 x 349.3 cm, Madrid, Museo Nacional, Centro de Arte Reina Sophia

Bildaufbau und -genese unterfütterte Chandler mit einem schriftlich klar formulierten Plan mit der Absicht, die Kontraste stärker herauszuarbeiten: So sind ihr zufolge Hass und Verzweiflung mit Chaos verbunden. Hass beschreibt sie als Gefühl abgrundtiefen Missfallens, starker Abneigung und Feindseligkeit, während Verzweiflung für den Verlust von Hoffnung stehe. In den kulminierenden Worten „Welcome to Hell“ vereinen sich in ihrer Mindmap zum Bild die beiden Aspekte. Auf der anderen Seite beschreibt Chandler die Basis, auf welcher die Hoffnung begründet zum Bild die welche der Glauben, der voller Erwartung und Freude nach vorne gewandte Blick und die hoffnungsvolle Überzeugung, dass sich die Dinge zum Besten wenden Werden sind. Es gibt soviel tiefe Spaltung und Teilung in dieser Welt! Sei es nun zwischen Arm und Reich, zwischen Schwarz und Weiß, zwischen Männern und Frauen, Links und Rechts, Zerstörung, Ausbeutung und Schutz, zwischen Hoffnung und Verzweiflung, zwischen Liebe und Hass. Um diese „Dividing Lines“, die man mit Trennungslinie oder Grenze übersetzen kann, zu visualisieren, arbeitet sie mit markant gezeichneten Diagonalen und zudem mit dem Kontrast zwischen Helldunkel, Schwarzweiß sowie durch die Ambivalenz zwischen Figuration und Abstraktion. Konsequenterweise gehen die Diagonalen insbesondere aus den Schlagstöcken und Schilden der Polizisten hervor, gleichzeitig aber auch durch abstrakte, auf gegenständlicher Ebene nicht definierbare Elemente, welche an die mittelalterlichen Lanzen eines Paolo Uccello in dessen Schlachtengemälden erinnern.

Paolo Uccello, Die Schlacht von San Romano, um 1450–1455, Tempera auf Holz, 322 x 182 cm, Florenz, Galleria degli Uffizi

Rein technisch betrachtet zeichnet sich das Gemälde Language of the unheard durch seine abstrakte Grundlage aus ersten Schichten aus, in welche die Figuren erst im Lauf der Arbeit eingefügt wurden, wobei Chandler bei jedem Kunstwerke einen anderen Ansatz verfolgt. Teilweise beginnt sie mit einer Figur und gestaltet den Umraum um sie herum und ein andermal malt sie wie oben beschrieben zunächst den Raum und fügt in diesen die Gestalten ein. Grundsätzlich tendiert Chandler dazu, ihre Bilder wieder und wieder zu übermalen, Details kommen und verschwinden zu lassen, bis sie mit dem Resultat zufrieden ist. Somit beinhaltet jedes ihrer

Gemälde zahlreiche je nachdem verborgene, sichtbare und durchschimmernde Schichten. Dies verleiht ihren Gemälden eine spezielle, bedeutungsvolle Tiefe und das Auge ansprechende, divergente Oberflächen. Bei Chandlers Bild The Bystander (Der Zuschauer) handelt es sich um ein zwischen Abstraktion und Figuration oszillierendes Gemälde, in welchem wir einige Figuren dechiffrieren können – dechiffrieren, da sie teilweise mehr verborgen denn sichtbar zu sein scheinen. Eine stehende Person hält ihr Smartphone in der Hand und um sie herum liegen mindestens acht Personen auf dem Boden. Bewegungslos. Vielleicht sind sie schwer verwundet, oder sogar tot. Wir als Betrachter werden es nicht erfahren, aber der Zuschauer im Bild ist offensichtlich nicht daran interessiert, den Opfern unmittelbar zu helfen. Möglicherweise ist er damit beschäftigt, den Notruf zu wählen; oder fotografiert und dokumentiert er die Verletzten und das Geschehen lediglich, wie das heutzutage häufig geschieht? Manchmal scheint es gar, als ob Menschen Mühe hätten, zwischen der Realität und der gefilmten Realität auf dem Bildschirm zu unterscheiden. Der Zuschauer als Gaffer, der seine Neugierde befriedigt? Sowohl in The Bystander wie auch in Five Minutes of Fame bezieht sich Chandler stark und in doppelter Weise auf die französische Kunst des 19. Jahrhunderts: sowohl formal als auch technisch. In beiden Gemälden sehen wir auf dem Boden liegende Tote oder Schwerverletzte. Dieses Motiv befindet sich in einer langen kunsthistorischen Tradition der Darstellungsweise von Todesopfern, ohne Rücksicht auf Chronologie und Vollständigkeit beispielsweise in Jean-Léon Gérômes Der Tod des Marshall Ney (1868), Edouard Manets Barrikade (1871), Picassos Guernica, bis zu Jeff Walls Citizen (1996), eine Fotografie, welche keinen Toten zeigt, jedoch die gleiche extreme Perspektive beziehungsweise Froschperspektive verwendet. Manet bildet in einer Lithographie ein Opfer der blutigen Niederschlagung der Pariser Kommune ab. In dieser bezieht er sich auf ein eigenes, früheres Gemälde, seinen Toten Torero (1864/65), welches eindeutig in Bezug zu Diego Velázquez’ Totem Soldaten (1635–1640) und/oder einem italienischen Gemälde aus dem 17. Jahrhundert steht. Dieses ähnelt in seiner Darstellung Velázquez Gemälde sehr und trägt den Titel Der Tote Soldat (Orlando Muerto).1 Beide Werke befinden sich in der Londoner National Gallery. Warum nun sollte die Verbindung zur französischen Kunst des 19. Jahrhunderts betont werden? Diese kleine, unbekannte Lithographie Manets, welche eine Szene der Pariser Commune in ihrer dramatischen letzten Phase zeigt, kann in ihrer historischen Ausgangslage mit der gegenwärtigen Protestkultur verglichen werden. Damals, im Jahr 1871 gingen die Menschen in Paris auf die Straße, um eine radikal sozialistisch und revolutionär

1. Das kunsthistorische Motiv der am Boden liegenden toten Person und ihrer Darstellung in der Froschperspektive habe ich in meiner Monographie Tim Eitel. Das investigative Bild, Berlin 2015, S. 160–166, S. 277 ausführlich beschrieben.

aufgebaute Gesellschaft durchzusetzen. Doch bestand die „Commune“ nicht lange. Von der Regierung wurde sie nach nur zwei Monaten niedergeschlagen. In der „Blutigen Maiwoche“ wurden zum Schutz der Commune erst zu spät Barrikaden gebaut und die Kommunarden in den folgenden Tagen durch die Armee brutal massakriert. Hoffentlich und sicherlich werden die heutigen weltweiten Proteste dagegen in einer friedlichen Weiterentwicklung und Veränderung der globalen Ordnung münden, hin zu mehr Gerechtigkeit, Gleichheit, Umweltschutz und offenen Demokratien.

Edouard Manet, Die Barrikade, 1871, Lithographie, Düsseldorf, Kupferstichkabinett

Heute haben wir, wiederum in Frankreich, die starke Protestbewegung der „Gilets Jaunes“, und dazu so viele andere Protestbewegungen rund um den Globus – gegen den Kapitalismus, Neoliberalismus und für mehr Demokratie, gegen Sexismus, Rassismus, Speziesismus, für Freiheit, Gleichheit, finanzielle Gerechtigkeit, und nicht zu vergessen für den Umwelt- und Klimaschutz. In den letzten Jahren nehmen Proteste weltweit zu.2 Man denke nur einmal an so exponierte Personen wie die damals fünfzehnjährige schwedische Schülerin und Klimaaktivistin Greta Thunberg, welche wochenlang vor dem Parlament streikte. Auf der UN-Klimakonferenz sagte sie im Dezember 2018: „Wir sind nicht hierhergekommen, um die Weltspitze darum zu bitten, sich zu kümmern. Ihr habt uns in der Vergangenheit ignoriert, und ihr werdet uns erneut ignorieren. Uns sind die Ausreden und Entschuldigungen ausgegangen und uns geht die Zeit aus. Wir sind hierhergekommen um euch mitzuteilen, dass die Veränderung kommt, ob es euch nun gefällt oder nicht. Die wahre Macht gehört den Menschen.“3 Thunberg erhöhte das Problembewusstsein und ihr Vorbild rief weltweit eine große Anzahl weiterer Schulstreiks für das Klima hervor. Für ihre Kunstwerke arbeitet Chandler mit Bildern aus den Medien und dem Internet. Ihre Quellen und die Hintergründe des jeweiligen Protests lässt sie dabei ganz bewusst offen. In ihrer sich stets weiterentwickelnden Darstellungsweise wurde Chandler vor kurzem auf das

„Trace Monoprinting“ aufmerksam, eine von Paul Gauguin entwickelte Unterform der Monotypie – ein Hybrid zwischen Zeichnung und Drucktechnik. Dieses Verfahren lässt sowohl ein positives als auch negatives Bild entste hen. Chandler verwendet beide. Paul Gauguin beschrieb die Methode im März 1902 in einem Brief an seinen Gönner Gustave Fayet: „First you roll out printer’s ink on a sheet of paper of any sort; then lay a second sheet on top of it and draw whatever pleases you. The harder and thinner your pencil (as well as your paper), the finer will be the resulting line.“4 Die „Leftovers“ beziehungsweise Rückseiten ihrer Drucke verwendet Lisa Chandler für Collagen. Diese Negativbilder auf braunem Backpapier klebt sie später als Collagen auf Papier. Grundsätzlich setzt sie eine enorme Bandbreite an Techniken ein, darunter Monoprint (auf Glas), „Ghost Print“ (den zweiten Druck), sie kratzt und schneidet mit einem Messer auf der Leinwand oder Papier, verwendet Malerrollen, tropft, spritzt und schüttet flüssige Acrylfarbe. Sie sprüht auch in Graffiti-Style, wie unter anderem in dem Gemälde Five minutes of fame zu sehen. Doch das ist noch nicht alles. Vor kurzem begann Chandler für ihre Kunstwerke Schablonen eines online erworbenen Protest-StencilToolkits zu verwenden. Dies komplettiert ihre visuelle Sprache, um die globale Protestbewegung wirkungsvoll ins Bild zu setzen. Zuvor widmete Chandler sich dem urbanen Raum. Auf ihr neues Thema wurde Chandler zum ersten Mal durch die neuere Geschichte Leipzigs aufmerksam, wo sie seit einiger Zeit ihren Zweitwohnsitz hat. 1989 war Leipzig das Zentrum der friedlichen Revolution. In den vergangenen fünf Jahren nahmen die Proteste zu, und zwar weltweit. Vor kurzem veröffentliche die Zeitung „The Guardian“ einen Artikel unter folgendem Titel: „We are living through a golden age of protest“. Darin wird der enorme Zuwachs an Protesten und Demonstrationen in den USA, seitdem Donald Trump das Amt des US-Präsidenten übernommen hatte, beschrieben.5 Nie zuvor in der USamerikanischen Geschichte fanden so viele und so große Demonstrationen statt. Nie. Niemals zuvor. Es ist gut! Es ist groß! Wie Trump es ausdrücken würde, handelte es sich denn um ein anderes Thema. Aber wichtig ist vor allem: Es kann mit Zahlen verifiziert werden. Selbst wenn man das Bevölkerungswachstum berücksichtigt, gingen prozentual betrachtet zuletzt wohl mehr Menschen auf den Straßen als auf dem Höhepunkt des Vietnamkrieges. Mit bis zu 4,6 Millionen Teilnehmern war der „Women’s March” 2017 und 2018 die mit Abstand größte Protestkundgebung der US-Geschichte, hinzu kommen die Proteste gegen Waffengewalt, wobei am „March for Our Lives“ bis zu zwei Millionen Menschen teilnahmen, sowie der „March for Science“, an dem ungefähr eine Million demonstrierten, hervorgerufen durch die Haltung von Donald Trumps Regierung auf Wissenschaft und Klimawandel ... Insgesamt wird die Zunahme an Protesten schon allein durch eine rasche Googlesuche offensichtlich, wo man auf Überschriften wie diese stößt: „What are the meanings behind the worldwide rise in protests? What trends can we decipher when it comes to modern protests? Is there a pattern to the grievances that helps

Lisa Chandler, Stop, stop, stop, 2017, Acrylic on Hahnemühle Britannia Rough 300gsm paper, framed, Leipzig

to explain the current spike in protest? (...)”6. Australien, Frankreich, Belgien, überall brodelt es … Im Januar traten 200 Millionen Menschen in Indien für zwei Tage in einen Generalstreik, um gegen die Regierung und die schlechten Arbeitsbedingungen aufzubegehren. Und auch in Deutschland gab es zuletzt massive Bewegungen für den Klimaschutz, gegen die Agrarindustrie, gegen den weiteren Kohleabbau, für den Schutz des Hambacher Forstes. Mit „Friday for Future“ gelangte auch der weltweite Schulstreik für das Klima nach Deutschland und mobilisierte hier zehntausende Schüler. Überall auf der Welt müssen junge Menschen zutiefst beunruhigt sein, was ihre Zukunft betrifft. Von Anfang an interessierte sich Chandler für Menschen im städtischen Raum und wie sie diesen verändern. Für einige Jahre war dies das Hauptthema ihrer Malerei. Bis sie 2016 in Leipzig unbeabsichtigt in eine dramatische, von Gewalt bestimmte Demonstration geriet. Als sie die Kunsthalle G2 in Erwartung einer entspannten Vernissage betrat, war alles ruhig, doch als sie das Gebäude später verließ, befand sie sich schlagartig in einem massiven Tumult aus aufgebrachten Demonstranten und mit Maschinengewehren und Pfefferspray bewaffneten Polizisten. Dies war ein Wendepunkt in Chandlers künstlerischer Arbeit und in ihrer Wahrnehmung der Welt,

als ihr klar wurde, wie schnell sich der urbane Raum von einer alltäglichen Erfahrung hin zu etwas geradezu Jenseitigem verändern kann. Seitdem konzentriert sie sich zunehmend darauf, „Die Sprache der Unbeachteten“ wiederzugeben, jenen Unbeachteten, welche sich auf der Straße Sichtbarkeit verschaffen und den Mächtigen „Stop, Stop, Stop“ entgegen schreien! Konsequent widersteht Chandler hierbei der Versuchung, Bilder mit einer politischen Schlagrichtung zu malen. Im Gegenteil schafft sie in ihren Gemälden eine künstlerisch überzeugende Distanz und eine inhaltlich Abstraktion, indem sie die Protestkultur von ihrem konkreten Hintergrund befreit. Sie bleibt ihrer meisterhaften künstlerischen Handschrift treu und erlaubt dabei keiner der Parteien, sie für sich zu vereinnahmen. © Dr. Sara Tröster Klemm, 2019 Bildnachweise: Christian Geelhaar, Picasso. Wegbereiter und Förderer seines Aufstiegs 1899-1939, Zürich: Palladion 1993, Abb. 262. Volker Gebhardt, Paolo Uccello. Die Schlacht von San Romano, Frankfurt a. M. 1995, Abb. 2 hinten. Partei ergreifen, Ausstellungska-talog, Städtische Kunsthalle Recklinghausen 1978, Abb. 174.

2 Maria Popova, Rebecca Solnit on Hope in Dark Times, Resisting the Defeatism of Easy Despair, and What Victory Really Means for Movements of Social Change, online: https://www.brainpickings.org/2016/03/16/rebecca-solnit-hope-in-the-dark-2/, checked on 21 November 2018; Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark. Untold Histories, Wild Possibilities, Chicago, Haymarket Books: 2016. 3 Greta Thunberg, You Are Stealing Our Future: Greta Thunberg, 15, Condemns the World’s Inaction on Climate Change, on 13 Decemer 2018 in Katowice, Poland, online: https://www.democracynow.org/2018/12/13/you_are_stealing_our_future_greta, checked on 26 January 2019. 4 Lotte Johnson, Metamorphoses: Paul Gauguin’s Oil Transfer Drawings, https://www.moma.org/explore/inside_out/2014/04/16/ metamorphoses-paul-gauguins-oil-transfer- drawings/, published 16 April 2014, checked on 26 January 2019. 5 LA Kauffman, We are living through a golden age of protest. We are seeing a level of organising with little precedent – but it’s time for stronger forms of demonstration, such as sit-ins and street blockades, in: The Guardian, https://www.theguardian.com/ commentisfree/2018/may/06/protest- trump-direct-action-activism, published 6 May 2018, checked on 13 January 2019. 6 Richard Youngs, What are the meanings behind the worldwide rise in protest?, https://www.opendemocracy.net/protest/multiplemeanings-global-protest, published 2 October 2017, last checked on 17 January 2019.

Worldwide protesting culture in the art of Lisa Chandler An extensive and concentrated series of paintings around the subject of civil protest is the outcome of two year’s work by painter Lisa Chandler. Monumental paintings and miniatures on canvas, employing various materials, collages and her newly adopted technique of trace monoprint determine this both visually attractive, outstanding and socio-critical oeuvre. In the monumental painting Language of the unheard, painted in 2017 in Leipzig, we see an enormous battle – the battle between light and darkness, between hope and despair, between peaceful protesters and armed policemen in full protective gear. In its intensity, in its accumulation of bodies and through strong formal structures as clear diagonals, the battle painting reminds one of Picasso’s Guernica (1937).

In contrast to the Spanish painter, Chandler separates the two sides clearly from each other through the use of colour and the dynamics between light and dark. While we see in Picasso’s masterpiece only the victims and their suffering, Chandler shows both sides. The position of Picasso’s light bringing woman formally corresponds with Chandler’s policeman in the foreground. In the structure of her picture and its genesis, Chandler worked with a detailed intellectual plan in mind in order to enforce the contrasts. Hate and despair are linked to chaos. While hate is defined by the feeling of intense dislike, extreme aversion and hostility, despair stands for the loss of hope. These two aspects may be united in

Pablo Picasso, Guernica, 1937, oil on canvas, 776.6 x 349.3 cm, Madrid, Museo Nacional, Centro de Arte Reina Sophia

the culminating words “welcome to hell”. In opposition, Chandler formulates the ingredients of hope, which are to believe, to look forward with desire, to hope for something and to hold to the conviction that events will turn out for the best. There is so much division in the world, rich and poor, blacks and whites, men and women, left and right, destruction/exploitation and protection, and, as mentioned, hope and despair/hate. To pictorially describe these “dividing lines”, Chandler created a repeating visual element of strong diagonals and emphasised the contrasts between light and dark, black and white and the ambivalence between figuration and abstraction. The diagonals emerge in the form of riot sticks and shields, but also through abstract, not realistically definable elements, which reminds one of medieval lances in the paintings of battles by Paolo Uccello, for example.

Paolo Uccello, The Battle of San Romano, around 1450–1455, Tempera on wood, 322 x 182 cm, Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi

Technically, Language of the unheard distinguishes itself by a totally abstract foundation, where the figures have been overpainted. Chandler works with different approaches in every painting. Sometimes she starts with the figures and creates the space around them, sometimes she paints the space first and then overpaints the figures, as described above. Generally, in her process she paints in a lot of details and then overpaints over and over again until she is happy with the result. Therefore, every work contains many hidden, visible and shimmering layers. This gives her paintings special meaningful depth and eye-catching, divergent surfaces. The bystander shows us a quite abstract painting, where we can decipher a few figures – decipher, because they in part seem to be more hidden than visible. A standing man, possibly holding a smartphone and around him at least eight people lying on the ground. Motionless. Maybe severely wounded or even dead. We as viewers do not know, but The bystander, obviously, is not interested in helping the victims directly. Maybe he calls for help, dialling the emergency number, or perhaps he just documents and photographs the injured persons, as it often happens nowadays. It seems, as if people struggle with the differentiation of reality and filmed reality on screen. The

bystander as a gawper, who satisfies his curiosity? In The bystander as well as in Five minutes of fame Chandler strongly refers to the French art of the 19th century in a double way: formally and technically. In both paintings we see people lying dead or severely injured on the ground. This motif finds itself in a long art historical tradition of murdered victims, regardless of chronology and completeness, from Jean-Léon Gérômes The Death of Marshall Ney (1868), Edouard Manet’s Civil War (1871), Guernica, to Jeff Wall’s Citizen (1996), which does not necessarily show a dead person, but uses the same extreme perspective or worm-eye’s perspective, respectively. Manet depicted a victim of the bloody suppression of the Paris Commune in a lithograph, while revisiting an earlier painting, his Dead Torero (1864/65). This again refers to Diego Velázquez The Dead Soldier (1635–1640) and/or to a 17th century Italian painting. The latter looks very similar and is named The Dead Soldier (Orlando Muerto).1 Both paintings are in the National Gallery, London. Why stress the link to French art of the 19th century? This small, not very well known lithograph by Manet shows a scene from the Paris Commune in its last, lethal phase of the barricades. In its historical situation it may be compared to the contemporary protesting culture. In 1871 people in Paris took to the streets in order to found a radical socialist and revolutionary society. But the Paris Commune did not last long. It was suppressed by the government after only two months. During the “Bloody Week” in May 1871, barricades were built but too late. In the following days communards were cruelly massacred by the army. Hopefully and certainly, the outcome of protests nowadays will result in a peaceful modification of the global order towards more justice, equality and environmental protection, and towards open democracies.

Edouard Manet, The Barricade, 1871, lithograph, Düsseldorf, Kupferstichkabinett

1. I described the art historical tradition of the dead person, lying on the ground and presented in a worm’s-eye view in my monograph Tim Eitel. Das investigative Bild, Berlin 2015, pp. 160–166, p. 277.

Today, we have, again in France, the protest movement of the “Yellow Vests” (Gilets Jaunes) and so many other protests movements around the globe – against capitalism, neoliberalism and for more democracy, against sexism, racism, speciesism, for freedom, justice and (gender, financial) equality, and not to forget for the environment and especially the climate. Protests have arisen in recent years all over the world.2 Think of people like the then fifteen-year-old Swedish student and climate activist Greta Thunberg, who went for weeks on strike in front of parliament. At the UN Climate Change Conference she said in December 2018: “We have not come here to beg world leaders to care. You have ignored us in the past, and you will ignore us again. We have run out of excuses, and we are running out of time. We have come here to let you know that change is coming, whether you like it or not. The real power belongs to the people.” 3 Thunberg raised awareness and generated other school strikes for the climate worldwide. For her artworks, Chandler works with images from the media and the internet. However, she deliberately leaves the source and background of the depicted protest open. In her constantly developing art practice, Chandler recently became aware of trace monoprinting, a hybrid technique between printing (monotype) and drawing developed by Paul Gauguin. The process creates a positive as well as a negative image and Chandler profits from both. The process was described by Gauguin in March 1902 in a letter to his patron Gustave Fayet: “First you roll out printer’s ink on a sheet of paper of any sort; then lay a second sheet on top of it and draw whatever pleases you. The harder and thinner your pencil (as well as your paper), the finer will be the resulting line.”4 Lisa Chandler creates collages with the “leftovers”, with the recto of her prints. The negative on brown baking paper will be pasted later as collage on paper. She employs a wide range of techniques, such as monoprint (on glass), the ghost print (second print), she scratches and cuts with a knife, uses a paint roller, pours and drips fluid acrylic on canvas or paper, and even uses sprays in a graffiti manner, as is recognisable in the painting Five minutes of fame. But that is still not everything. It is not long ago that Chandler started creating her artworks with templates from a protest stencil toolkit bought online and this she exploits to complete her visual language for depicting the global protest movement.

Lisa Chandler, Five minutes of fame (detail), 2018, Acrylic on Linen, 200 x 150 cm, Nelson

Primarily, Chandler became aware of arising protest movements and therefore her new subject through the history of Leipzig, a small city in Eastern Germany and her second city of residence. In 1989 Leipzig was the centre of the peaceful revolution, which culminated in the reunification of Germany. In the last five years, protests have increased again. Worldwide. Recently “The Guardian” published an article, titled: “We are living through a golden age of protest” and it described the enormous increase of protests since Donald Trump took office.5 Never before in American history have so many and such large demonstrations taken place. Never. Never before. It’s good! It’s great! As Trump himself would put it into words, if it happened to concern another subject, of course! But what really matters: It can be proved in numbers; for women’s rights - Women’s March 2017 and 2018 with up to 4.6 million participants the largest protest in US history; against gun violence - March for Our Lives with up to two million participants; climate change and science - March

Lisa Chandler, Stop, stop, stop, 2017, Acrylic on Hahnemühle Britannia Rough 300gsm paper, framed, Leipzig

for Science estimated participants around one million. The increase in protests in recent times becomes obvious through a quick Google search, where you find headlines such as “What are the meanings behind the worldwide rise in protests? What trends can we decipher when it comes to modern protests? Is there a pattern to the grievances that helps to explain the current spike in protest? (...)”6. Australia, France, Belgium . . . In January 2019 up to 200 million people took part at a two-day general strike in India to protest against their government and poor working conditions . . . In Germany, too, there were huge protests in recent times for the climate, against factory farming, against coal and for the protection of landscapes such as the Hambach Forrest. The worldwide school strikes “Friday for Future” took over and now mobilise thousands of students. Young people all over the world need to be really worried about what their future will look like. From the beginning, Chandler has been interested in people in urban spaces and how they change the space, making this the subject of her paintings for a number of years. In Leipzig in 2016 she accidentally got involved in a huge protest. When she entered “Kunsthalle G2” one night for a relaxed art opening, everything was quiet on the street, but when she stepped back onto the street afterwards there was an enormous mass protest, armed policemen wore machine-guns and used pepper spray. This was a turning point in Chandler’s perception of the world, of how an urban space can change so quickly from an everyday mundane experience to something almost

otherworldly. Since then she has focused more and more on depicting the “Language of the Unheard”, those who move onto the streets and cry towards the people in power “Stop, Stop, Stop”! But Chandler constantly resists the temptation to paint pictures of a political direction. She brings an artistically convincing distance and a certain abstraction to her work by showing the protesting culture liberated from it’s concrete background. She stays true to her own recognisable visual artistic style, and does not allow her art to be used politically by any party. © Dr. Sara Tröster Klemm, 2019 Photo credits: Christian Geelhaar, Picasso. Wegbereiter und Förderer seines Aufstiegs 1899-1939, Zürich: Palladion 1993, Fig. 262. Volker Gebhardt, Paolo Uccello. Die Schlacht von San Romano, Frankfurt a. M. 1995, Fig. 2 hinten. Partei ergreifen, Ausstellungskata- log, Städtische Kunsthalle Recklinghausen 1978, Fig. 174.

6 Richard Youngs, What are the meanings behind the worldwide rise in protest?, https://www.opendemocracy.net/protest/multiplemeanings-global-protest, published 2 October 2017, last checked on 17 January 2019.

lisa chandler the dividing line

solo exhibition 16 February â&#x20AC;&#x201C; 14 April 2019 The Suter Art Gallery Te Aratoi o WhakatĹŤ Nelson, New Zealand

History is made by those who take action

“The whole world is watching” was chanted as crowds of people took to the Hamilton rugby pitch on 25 July 1981 to protest the apartheid South Africa team’s tour of New Zealand. Eight years later “wir sind das Volk” (we are the people) was the rallying cry for over 70,000 people when they met on 9 October 1989 in Leipzig to protest the authoritarian East German government. Culture is shaped by the moments we collectively stand up and show the world what we believe. It is never easy, in New Zealand the 1981 Springbok tour protest tore families apart and highlighted an unassailable generational rift – a dividing line. But this event, along with Parihaka, the 1975 Māori Land March and the anti-nuclear movement, has entrenched protest as an important part of our national identity and our history. With The Dividing Line Lisa Chandler positions herself as a contemporary history painter. In the tradition of Jacques-Louis David’s Tennis Court Oath, Pablo Picasso’s Guernica and Norman Rockwell’s The Problem We All Live With, Chandler is looking closely at this moment in time, our political reality, and through painting makes us aware of this unique historical moment. For David it was the French Revolution, for Picasso it was the Spanish Civil War, for Rockwell it was the Civil Rights movement and for Chandler it is more complicated. We seem to be living in a moment of global urgency with the threat of climate change, totalitarian governmental regimes, social injustice and economic inequity. The protests that have sprung up in response to these issues are a sign of humanity’s limitless hope – the belief that individuals can come together as a catalyst for change. This kind of hope is not blind naivety but a rejection of

cynicism. It is an acknowledgement that the world is damaged and that if we act we can create change. In The Dividing Line Chandler’s work shows us that despair and hope coexist. Based for part of the year in Nelson and the rest in the Spinnerei, the artistic heart of Leipzig, Germany, Chandler’s life as a global artist has required the same kind of hope evidenced in these protest movements and in her striking paintings. Living in these two countries, on opposite sides of the world and existing as something of an outsider in both places, has given her insight into that which divides and defines us. Informed by the history of protest, the forces that fuels these movements and this time of uncertainty, Chandler’s layered paintings make manifest the polarity that drives protests. In Language of the unheard these forces meet in a visceral clash, with riot gear and cameras at the ready. The moment she has captured, the meeting of the dark and the light, is encoded through their colours – the white protesters as the good and the black riot police as the bad. A closer inspection of the painting, and the exhibition as a whole, complicates this reading. Her figures are faceless but never voiceless, anonymous but specifically of our time, urgent but thoughtful, strong and yet vulnerable. Rather than depicting specific groups she instead uses them as archetypes. The protesters representative of a resistance to injustice and despair, the shielded police symbolic of the social and political forces that want to maintain a status quo that benefits the few to the detriment of the many. Her work is beautiful but unflinching. Bodies lay prone, we see the sadly familiar tents which house displaced

refugees, while gas masks, automatic weapons, batons and illegible protest signs are depicted without shame or glorification. It is in her ability to make the horrors of what fuels contemporary protest movements – death, war, starvation, homelessness – real but not gratuitous that ensures Chandler’s work is so impactful. With layers of mark making, ephemeral materials such as baking paper and a restricted colour palette contrasted with shots of vibrant blue and earthy ochre Chandler has infused the urgency of protest into the very fabric of her artworks. The few become the many in both The faceless and The dividing line, one a regimental grid, the other an unrestricted cloud. The hoarding walls, covered with the artist’s marks, are directly influenced by her European home, where protests are still a matter of everyday life. Reflections of the layers of countless posters, graffiti and paint that typify the art of protest movements, Chandler’s walls are unabashedly ephemeral. The hoarding walls highlight the physicality of her work. Her paintings are by their nature layered and multidimensional but these temporary walls add extra depth. With exposed timber structures and repurposed boards this work was made in situ at The Suter during the week The Dividing Line was installed. Made quickly, Chandler’s walls use the materials of the streets – paper, glue, sawdust and spray paint. Hidden amongst the layers of paint are slogans and articles that highlight the global nature of protest in our current political climate. These are torn and covered, so that their meaning and messages are obscured and obscure – it is impossible for us to see the hidden layers of significance imbedded within. The walls also become framing devices for the exhibition, hiding and revealing aspects of the artworks as you see around and through them. From every angle your view of the exhibition in its entirety is made impossible and the walls become a lens through which the exhibition is viewed. In hiding parts of the whole our attention is further drawn to the concealed figures, stories and histories that have created these protest movements. The faceless is a work that overwhelms. At The Suter it is comprised of 175 small canvases that reach over 2 meters from the floor and stretch almost 5 meters across the wall. On this scale it is impossible to view the entire work in detail, it is an installation that requires the viewer to move towards and away from it, travel across its surface to understand its individual elements. As with Language of the unheard we see light move to dark, in this instance they are not oppositional forces but gas-masked faces and figures that repeat and echo. It is through this that Chandler complicates our understanding of good and bad, if the light and the dark figures are the same, who is right? In each venue in which this body of work is shown it changes. New pieces are added, others are changed, some removed, it becomes vertical or shifts to a horizontal axis. With each change it becomes a new work, but keeps the spirit of the old.

Alongside her adept use of paint, is Chandler’s considered use of trace monoprinting. Printmaking has a long association with protest and revolution, its roots being in the earliest days of the printing press. It was with Guttenberg’s new printing press, which mechanised the reproduction of text for the first time that figures such as Martin Luther were able to widely disseminate their ideas, thus birthing the Reformation. Printmaking does away with the idea of the ‘original’, the fact that the work exists in the multiple democratises it and makes it appealing for use in egalitarian protest movements. It is an art of and for the people. Chandler uses printmaking in her work to explore the materiality of protest movements, and in a work such as The faceless, it reinforces the ways in which protests thrive when the needs of the unique individual are set aside and people come together as a mass. One of the most affecting works, in part because of its small scale, is Sorrow. Comprised of four small canvases it acts as a striking contrast in scale and colour palette to the larger paintings and installations in the exhibition. Depicting four figures, focused on their faces and hands, Sorrow speaks to the fact that protests are caused by, and often result in, pain. In its intimacy Sorrow sits as a foil to the large installation work The dividing line. Beginning high the paintings shift around the gallery and tumble down the wall. With its 27 framed works on paper, varied in scale and tone, the unpredictable layout of The dividing line reflects the sometimes chaotic nature of protest. The Dividing Line brings together the dark and the light but does not assert their equality, it instead leaves the outcome of their meeting uncertain. As Rebecca Solnit stated in her book Hope in the Dark (Haymarket Books, 2016 ed) ‘hope locates itself in the premise that we don’t know what will happen and that in that spaciousness of uncertainty is room to act.’ © Sarah McClintock, February 2019 Suter Curator

The bystander 2018

Acrylic on Linen

200 x 150cm

Language of the unheard

2017

Acrylic on Linen

150 x 300cm

Five minutes of fame

2018

Acrylic on Linen

200 x 150cm

Silence encourages the tormentor

2018

Acrylic on Linen

190 x 250cm

They want us to be afraid

2018

Acrylic on Linen

140 x 260cm

Unconquered spirit

2018

Acrylic on Linen

140 x 100cm

Never be silent

2018

Acrylic on Linen

140 x 100cm

Flares of hope

2018

Acrylic on Linen

180 x 300cm

The faceless

2018

Acrylic on Linen

set of 150, 24 x 18cm each

The faceless

2018

Acrylic on Linen

set of 150, 24 x 18cm each

Sorrow

2017

Acrylic and graphite on canvas board set of 4, 24 x 18cm each

Resist

2018

Acrylic on Linen

Triptych, 200 x 300cm

The Dividing Line

2019

Acrylic and Baking Paper on HahnemĂźhle 300gsm paper, framed

27 works - assorted sizes

The Dividing Line - Help

2019

Acrylic and Baking Paper on HahnemĂźhle 300gsm paper, framed

70 x 100cm

The Dividing Line - Assault

2019

Acrylic and Baking Paper on HahnemĂźhle 300gsm paper, framed

70 x 100cm

The Dividing Line - Run

2019

Acrylic and Baking Paper on HahnemĂźhle 300gsm paper, framed

70 x 100cm

The Dividing Line - Protestors

2019

Acrylic and Baking Paper on HahnemĂźhle 300gsm paper, framed

70 x 100cm

The Dividing Line - Don’t move

2019

Acrylic and Baking Paper on Hahnemühle 300gsm paper, framed

70 x 100cm

The Dividing Line - Pray

2019

Acrylic and Baking Paper on HahnemĂźhle 300gsm paper, framed

70 x 100cm

biography

Lisa Chandler was born in the United Kingdom and grew up in Wellington, the capital city of New Zealand. Chandler’s painting practice explores the themes of urban spaces and places, as well as the impact of globalisation and gentrification on city inhabitants. In recent years there has been a fundamental shift in her work, towards a more critical attitude to urban space in relation to globalisation, gentrification and contemporary life. She is strongly influenced by the environment around her, and this ‘shift’ is, without a doubt, due to recent artist residencies she has undertaken in international cities around the world, including Singapore and Beijing. Chandler has an MFA (Hons) from Whitecliffe College of Arts and Design, Auckland, New Zealand. She presented her thesis paper Negotiating the Non-Place at the Affective Landscapes Conference at the University of Derby, England in 2012. Since 2012 Chandler has held ten solo exhibitions and has been selected for numerous group shows including Cruel City at The Suter Art Gallery Te Aratoi o Whakatū, Nelson, New Zealand and the International Art Survey Beijing, China. She has been a finalist in a number of major New Zealand art awards including the National Contemporary Art Award (2015), the New Zealand Painting and Printmaking Award (2018, 2015) and the Molly Morpeth Canaday Art Award (2015, 2014 and 2012). In 2007, Chandler won the Landscape Award at the Nelson Regional Art Awards. In 2016, following a four-month residency at the Leipzig International Art Programme in Germany, Chandler created a body of work, titled Between Yesterday & Tomorrow (2016) that explored issues of gentrification in the city. Inspired by the strong painting scene, Chandler set up

a base in Leipzig and has a permanent studio at the Leipziger Baumwollspinnerei (Spinnerei), a well-known art hub situated in an old industrial cotton mill housing around 120 art studios and 15 galleries. In 2014, she spent two months in Beijing on the Red Gate Residency. China Dream (2015), a solo exhibition at the Millennium Public Art Gallery in Marlborough, critiqued the expansion of Beijing and offered sympathy for the aspiring individual and local culture. In 2013 Chandler participated in an artist residency in Singapore supported by the Asia New Zealand Foundation, and the following year was invited back for an international collaboration project. She belongs to the international artist collective ‘Instinctive’ which is based out of Singapore. Her evocative 12-piece entry in the collective’s exhibition in(visible) 1.0 (2017) examined the plight of migrant workers in this global city. Chandler is a painter’s painter and her love of the painting process shines out of her work. In her paintings, she constantly strives for a balance between abstraction and figuration. Urban structures and people intertwine through a process of layering, obliterating and tracing. Images are painted in, painted out and painted over. The history in the layers of paint traces the transformation of urban space. This intense, time-consuming layering process, is sometimes offset by quicker paintings and low-tech printmaking techniques, such as mono-printing, which offer a contrasting raw and unfinished aesthetic. Chandler divides her time each year between Nelson, New Zealand and Leipzig, Germany.

s o l o e x h i bi t ions

group exhibitions

2019 The Dividing Line 2019 Leipziger Jahresausstellung, Werkschauhalle, The Suter Art Gallery Te Aratoi o Whakatū, Leipziger Baumwollspinnerei, Germany Nelson, New Zealand 2018 Finalist, New Zealand Painting & Printmaking 2018 The Dividing Line Award, Waikato, New Zealand Archiv Massiv Gallery 2017 in(visible) Leipziger Baumwollspinnerei, Germany ION Gallery, Singapore 2018 Traces of the Past 2016 Patterns Beyond the Obvious Parker Gallery, Nelson, New Zealand Leipziger Baumwollspinnerei, Germany 2017 Small Works 2015 Finalist, National Contemporary Art Award Kunst Konzil, Leipzig, Germany Waikato Museum, New Zealand 2016 Between Yesterday & Tomorrow 2015 Finalist, New Zealand Painting & Printmaking Mckee Gallery, Nelson, New Zealand Award, Waikato, New Zealand 2015 China Dream 2015 Finalist, Molly Morpeth Canaday Art Award SALT Gallery, Nelson, New Zealand Whakatāne Museum, New Zealand 2014 Slice III 2014 Instinc 10, Gallery 67, Singapore Icon White Gallery, Upper Moutere, New Zealand 2013 Slice II LightSpace Gallery, Wellington, New Zealand 2013 Slice I Instinc Gallery, Singapore 2012 In Transit Red Gallery, Nelson, New Zealand 2012 Negotiating the Non-Place Black Asterisk Gallery, Auckland, New Zealand 2009 Solo 28 Academy Galleries, Wellington, New Zealand 2009 Faces & Focus Reflections Art Gallery, Nelson, New Zealand

2014 World Art Exhibition Songzhuang Museum, China 2014 Finalist, Molly Morpeth Canaday Art Award Whakatāne Museum, New Zealand 2013 Cruel City, The Suter Art Gallery Te Aratoi o Whakatū, Nelson, New Zealand 2013 re:New:all, Pearce Gallery, Auckland, New Zealand 2012 Finalist, Molly Morpeth Canaday Art Award Whakatāne Museum, New Zealand 2012 Art on Life, Academy Galleries Wellington, New Zealand 2009 Aqua Marine, The Suter Art Gallery Te Aratoi o Whakatū, Nelson, New Zealand 2007 Winner, Landscape/Seascape Award Regional Art Awards, Nelson, New Zealand

revi ews & art icles

ar tis t talks

Leipziger Strassenmagazine KiPPE, June 2018

2019

The Suter Art Gallery Te Aratoi o Whakatū Nelson, New Zealand

2018

Parker Gallery, Nelson, New Zealand

2016

Mckee Gallery, Nelson, New Zealand

2015

China Week Nelson, New Zealand

2015

Pecha Kucha, Tasman, New Zealand

2013

LightSpace Gallery, Wellington, New Zealand

2013

Art Week, Auckland, New Zealand

2013

The Suter Art Gallery Te Aratoi o Whakatū Nelson, New Zealand

2013

Instinc Gallery, Singapore

2013

Pecha Kucha, Singapore

2012

Affective Landscapes Conference, University of Derby, England Presented a paper

2019 Standing Room Only, Radio New Zealand National

2012

Red Gallery, Nelson, New Zealand

2018

Fresh FM, Nelson, New Zealand

res id encies

2016

Fresh FM, Nelson, New Zealand

2015

Fresh FM, Nelson, New Zealand

2016 Leipzig International Artist Programme Germany

2012

93bFM, Auckland, New Zealand

2012

Arts on Sunday, Radio New Zealand National

2012

BBC Derby, England

2012

Fresh FM, Nelson, New Zealand

Creative Nelson Magazine, December 2018 Between Yesterday & Tomorrow, September 2016 Dr. Sara Tröster Klemm, Curator China Dream, September 2015 Anna Marie White, Curator Art Exchange, April-June Issue 2015 Pamela Ng, Singapore International Foundation A Slice of Life in Exhibition, November 2014 Adrienne Matthews, Art Critic, The Nelson Mail Slice, June 2013 Fann ZJ, Art Critic, Singapore Mapua Artist to Show Art Practice Overseas, April 2012 Anna Pearson, Journalist, The Nelson Mail

i n ter v i ews

2014

Collaboration Project Instinc Gallery, Singapore supported by the Asia New Zealand Foundation

2014 Red Gate Residency Beijing, China 2013 Instinc Gallery Residency, Singapore supported by the Asia New Zealand Foundation

Published on the occasion of Lisa Chandler: Die Trennlinien Archiv Massiv Gallery Leipziger Baumwollspinnerei, Germany 6 December 2018 - 5 January 2019 Lisa Chandler: The Dividing Line The Suter Art Gallery Te Aratoi o Whakatū Nelson, New Zealand 16 February - 14 April 2019 Text: Julie Catchpole, Sarah McClintock, Dr. Sara Tröster Klemm, Daniel Thalheim, Lisa Chandler Design: Lisa Chandler Photography: David Simon and Daniel Allen Printing: Anchor Print Editorial Assistance: Julie Catchpole

special thanks to the exhibition sponsors Nickel Azo Gold Christoph Roettger and Jeanette Wallraf Roettger Fred Graphite Grey Richard McGonigal The Framing Rooms Burnt Sienna Daniel Allen Photography Titanium White Barina Barrett Jonathan Barrett

thanks for ‘in kind’ support

Published by Lisa Chandler Artist www.lisachandler.co.nz

Dr. Sara Tröster Klemm, Curator, Leipzig, Germany

©Lisa Chandler Artist, and authors, 2019 Apart from fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of the publication may be reproduced by any process without prior permission of the publisher.

thanks to

ISBN: 978-0-473-47465-2

Daniel Thalheim, Art Historian, ARTEFAKTE - The Journal for Culture & Arts, Leipzig, Germany

Michael Ludwig, Archiv Massiv Gallery, Leipziger Baumwollspinnerei, Germany Frank Berger, Kunst Konzil, Leipzig, Germany David Simon, Photographer, Leipzig, Germany Sarah Busskamp, Leipzig, Germany Sarah McClintock, Curator, The Suter Art Gallery Te Aratoi o Whakatū, Nelson, New Zealand Julie Catchpole, Director, The Suter Art Gallery Te Aratoi o Whakatū, Nelson, New Zealand Lee Woodman, Gallery Technician, The Suter Art Gallery Te Aratoi o Whakatū, Nelson, New Zealand Pack n Send, Nelson, New Zealand CopyArt, Richmond, New Zealand John-Paul Pochin, Photographer, Nelson, New Zealand Anchor Print Nelson, New Zealand And all of Team Chandler!