|
•Uriel
Orlow uses diverse artforms to investigate where history, place and
memory intersect and resonate in the present, whether in archived documents,
the physical body or in geographical locations themselves. Rather than
reconstruct history as the past, for which the viewer may feel little
or no responsibility, Orlow’s work traces history’s charge
in the present so that the viewer may experience its living continuity.
His work asks what are the terms in which experience, either overwhelmingly
traumatic, such as the Holocaust or colonial oppression, or learned,
as in classical music training, is contained. What are the means by
which
we classify,
categorise
and
assimilate knowledge, both intellectually and physically? Like points
in a stellar constellation, Orlow’s work shapes connections between
these systems, making what seems untranslatable, both poetic and precise. Cherry
Smyth, art critic
•It
is not only present and current events that can be ‘read’ through
the process of making artworks and exhibitions. It is equally
possible to ‘read’ or investigate the past,
taking soundings of what lies beneath the surface, mapping
the terrain that lies beyond reach, that is not immediately
visible or tangible, or has been overlooked. This is what
Uriel Orlow does so effectively in The Benin Project (2007).
Through the interplay of the discrete but inter-related
elements that make up the work, Orlow explores the neglected
narratives and contexts that surround the so-called ‘Benin
Bronzes’ and raises questions about ownership, identity
and belonging that encompass contemporary political and
social realities beyond these particular artefacts. Most
importantly, perhaps, Orlow proposes a route for negotiating
geographical space and historical time which avoids the
traditional linear, progressive trajectory of Western scientific
and historical thought and instead, maps out a spiral trail
that moves from the past to the present and back again,
from one physical location to another, retracing some steps
but also defining new ones that open up fresh and unexpected
vistas. Gilane Tawadros 2007
• Orlow
suggests an attempt to re-engage with memory, as complex
articulations that can
be determined
spatially and temporally. Rather than focusing on monuments
that fix events in the past, memory is articulated in
Orlow's work as an active process taking place in the present. Dan
Smith in Stets
gern für Sie beschäftigt (Berlin: ifa,
2005), pp. 24-25. Full
Text
• Orlow’s
projects tend to uncouple themselves from earlier memory-art
by distancing themselves
from the
problem of identity situated between the sufficiently familiar
poles ‘individual’ and ‘collective’.
Instead he starts from the possibility of a third position,
and from the mutability of collective and individual identity
resulting from their crossover. The basic condition for this
is the active participation of the viewer. [Orlow’s
work is marked by] a refusal to submit to the - frequently
demonstrative - dramatic expression. A mode of reception
is thus instigated that might be compared to tracking down
traces. […] The stimulating character of Orlow's memory
art lies finally, and rather paradoxically, in the total
objectivity of his aesthetic; a filmic rhetoric which constantly
switches between documentation and fiction, concretion and
abstraction. Orlow adopts a new form of memory-art, aware
of a broad range of themes, media and ‘visual languages’,
but which formerly had treated objectivity and stimulus as
separate forms of expression. These formal-aesthetic innovations
introduce a complexity of content that combines different
semantic and sensory fields. Kai-Uwe
Hemken, Between
Stimulus and Objectivity: Notes on the memory-art of
Uriel Orlow, in Deposits (Greenbox, 2006)
• In
Uriel Orlow's sechsminütigen Video
Descent – auf
hebräisch: Yerida, zu deutsch: Emigration – spricht
eine hochschwangere Israelin über ihr Dasein als Emigrantin
in der Schweiz. Ein treffendes Beispiel dafür, weshalb
Videos eine Berechtigung haben, weshalb sie klassischen Filmdramaturgien
die Show stehlen. Es ist authentisch. Es subsumiert Bestandteile
von Schrecken, schwarzem Humor (qua Zynismus als Überlebensstrategie)
und Todesgespenstern. In der Schweiz lebt es sich ruhig,
zu ruhig. Das quirlige Leben in Israel wird vermisst. Dort,
wo, wenn wieder einmal ein Bombenattentat stattgefunden hat,
am Telefon darüber gescherzt wird, auf die Straße
zu gehen, um „Pieces“ aufzusammeln, Leichenteile.
Hier kommt alles zusammen: Das Leben im Bauch, der Heimatverlust,
die Alltagserfahrung des Terrors, die schuldbeladene Sicherheit
im Exil. Eine Identität, die, so scheint es, gebildet
wird, in dem sich verschiedene Attribute willkürlich
eines Körpers bemächtigen. Der Körper als
Durchgangsstation. Vielleicht ist das eine taugliche Interpretation
für Globalisierung. Nicht nur, dass ein Körper
per Flugzeug reist oder Unmengen von Daten verschickt werden
etc., sondern, dass ein Körper – wo auch immer
er sich befindet – von den transitorischen Realitäten
nach Belieben besetzt wird. Abwehrchance: Keine. Ralph
Findeisen,
Artnet.de (30 November 2006)
Translation
• Uriel
Orlow has created a beautiful and poetic installation for
this exhibition
[Around the World in Eighty Days]... His Midday/Midnight
(66° 33'),
2006 conists of a two-screen video showing a car journey
across a bridge in the arctic at midday and midnight,
both filmed on the longest and the shortest day of
the year.
The result is a time-space confusion caused by the
presence or absence of light. Rikke
Hansen, Art
Monthly, issue 298 (July-August, 2006), pp. 26-27.
• In
Concert, made with two musicians
from the Royal Academy of Music, London, does away with not
only the score
(internalised in both the memory and in the physical movements
of playing), but the instruments. […] Absorbed by the
performance, we become almost unaware that no instruments
are present.
And then there is an unforgettable
pause when the cellist rests both hands on her knees and
the invisible cello, made so present by her gestures, disappears. In
Concert is a speculative artwork, not a formal study
of cognition. But artworks share with science the occasional
need for thought-experiments, and this one presents evidence
of a further development of Orlow's work, that exceeds by
far in effect and fascination what the initial premise suggests;
not least by its social and mimetic implications and pleasures.
The non-musician, seeing and hearing this work, is tempted
to imitate, if only in a restrained way, some of the movements
made by those who have learnt them so well. Ian
Hunt, Performance,
exhibition catalogue (St Prex: Wings, 2006). Full
Text
• Orlow's
installation confronts us with the distinction between memory
as locus and material inscription,
and memory as recall of the past, between the externality
of the support—the boxes and books, and the house itself,
containing both the physical supports of memory, and the
direct traces of the past, such as photographs—and
the voices of testimony. […] Orlow's tracking shots
in Housed Memory suggest at once continuity and discontinuity,
the
infinite line, but one that goes nowhere, and is ruptured
again and again. Equally, the viewer is not allowed to step
back, there is no subject-centered view of the whole. The
still images of Inside the Archive also provide no more than
a series of fragments. And when a stable viewpoint is given
in The Wiener Library, London it is from outside the building,
and compromised by being associated with surveillance. This
is appropriate to the event to which this particular archive,
the Wiener Library, is largely dedicated. But it is also
overwhelming—and some of the testimonies of the people
who work there attest to this. Michael
Newman, Archive, Testimony
and Trace: Uriel Orlow's Housed Memory, in Deposits (Berlin/Zurich:
The Greenbox, 2006), pp 65-83.
• Orlow’s
video installation provides us with an intriguing ‘journey
both in space and in time.’ Investigating
the limits of medium […] Orlow ventures to the depths
of Lapland and the Arctic Circle. Starting from a painting
in the Aine
Art Museum collection, which depicts the startling light of
a Finnish summer, Orlow attempts to find that place in the
winter months, and translate it, or document it, using video.
In this way, the magnificent brightness of the summertime light
is transformed into an image of wintery, darkness. Moreover,
the consideration of time and space within the medium of landscape
painting – its stillness and locatedness – is stretched
to its limits by the artist’s use of the moving image – video.
The time of landscape painting becomes a movement through space.
One could say that the original painting, which ‘translated’ a
landscape, has been ‘de-translated’ by the artist’s
journey to that location, and then ‘re-translated’ through
the movement of time and space in video. The impossibility
of capturing the flight of light is inverted to become the
possibility of peering into the fluttering of darkness. Joanne
Morra in NU: Nordic art
review, vol issue 3-4/04
• The
archive is an ark of knowledge, but at the same time an arch
erected by Uriel, as if he wanted
to hold
fast the one and the other end (of the thread of history).
A discovery is made during the traversal, such that one does
not arrive at the end where one was at the beginning. The arch
opens out, the end does not simply communicate with the beginning.
Uriel has thus constructed his space for a voyage of discovery
which transpires in another space. Here one can discover what
is to be discovered over there. Alexander
García Düttmann in Stets
gern für Sie beschäftigt (Berlin: ifa, 2005),
pp. 27-28. Full Text
• The
subject of the Holocaust holds many pitfalls for the artist,
from banal pathos and “sublime” mythmaking
to sheer insensitivity. Orlow’s unique strategies avoid
these with unassuming aplomb. Michal
Sapir in Hadoar (New
York) Vol. LXXX No. 4 (3230) Jan 5 2001, p.23. Full
Text
• Etwas
versteckt liegt ein beeindruckender Teil der Ausstellung – vielleicht
so gewollt. Man soll es wohl zum Schluss finden. Das siebenminütige
Video von Uriel Orlow zeigt nur ein altes Hallenbad, in dem
kurz ein
schwimmender Mensch zu sehen ist. Diese Bilder sind scheinbar
weit vom Thema entfernt. Lässt
man sich dennoch darauf ein, haben sie unmittelbare Wirkung: »Hier
ist ein Ort der Trauer«, könnte darüber stehen.
Wenn die Kamera über das Wasser gleitet, ertönt jüdisches
Trauergebet. Der Klagegesang ist an das Wasser gebunden. Das
hat etwas Befreiendes. Denn das Wasser erscheint in diesem
Moment als ein reinigendes Medium, in dem Schmerz und Wut aufgelöst
werden können. Da kommt Hannah Arendt in den Sinn mit
ihrer Mahnung zur Trauerfähigkeit. Robert
Meyer in Neues
Deutschland, 1 February, 2005
|
|