An Invigilator’s Lot
I spent two weeks recently invigilating art exhibitions across multiple sites. I spent a day at a train station asking people not to eat their burgers whilst perched on a Charles Avery sculpture, I spent a day explaining to irritated national trust card holders why one of the rooms of a building they had paid to visit had an inexplicable video of a woman cooing to a man in a dress and I spent a day in a Marvin Gaye Chetwynd installation explain that visitors hadn’t ‘missed it’.
Having said that, these conversations only took up a very small part of my day. Such is the marginalisation of contemporary art, that I spent the majority of all my days invigilating communing silently with the work. I realised that I never spend more than a few minutes in front of any one art work – even something I really love. By spending 4 hours or more with one piece, I gave myself time to clear my mind and drop down into a more conducive state of receptivity. This was especially true for work that I didn’t like much on first viewing.
I confess I rarely stay for the whole of a sound piece unless there is a clear structure to the composition that I can follow. The Marvin Gaye Chetwynd installation had a really long loop which meant that the invigilators and those who attended the performance were the only people to experience it in full. After a few cycles, I began to make sense of the musical scrapbook as a narrative which worked with the set to imply a B Movie scientific experiment gone wrong unleashing an ancient goddess, possibly riding a turtle and looking a bit like Diana Ross. Normal visitors however only ever saw the installation either with a backdrop of maniacal evil cackling and Vincent Price type moaning, or to the sound of ‘sisters are doing it for themselves’ quite a different set of propositions.
One of my level 3 students, Christine Partridge, staged two exhibitions recently and as a professional facilitator used to communicating with different types of people she relished engagement with her audience through invigilation. As well as chatting to every visitor that came in, she also staged a facilitated session with a group of visitors to discuss and explore their responses to her work. This experience is radically different to packing up your work in the studio to send off to a gallery and then just sitting on your own hoping for the best, or maybe going along to your private view where everyone has their back to the work and you can’t see a thing.
My experiences as an invigilator have inspired me to ask for a chair more often at galleries, even to take a book to read, so that I can spend a morning or all day in a space and not just half an hour. They have taught me that if Barthes is right, and I am the author of all I view, then Maybe I need to be a bit more creative and experimental about just how I go about that.
As the professional practice course encourages more students to look at their work through a curatorial lens, I would be interested to hear from other students who have found interesting ways to interact with audience. I would also be interested to hear other tales from the invigilators chair.
5 thoughts on “An Invigilator’s Lot”
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I have invigilated at my own and other artist’s exhibitions. I have found it valuable for finding something out about the audience, and what they are interested in. I know it is wise never to underestimate the intelligence of the audience, but sometimes you have to remember not to overestimate it too. In one recent exhibition, despite huge posters outside the venue, various signs, press publicity etc it amazed me to encounter several people visiting the gallery with entirely different expectations about what they were going to find, and they actually became quite angry and frustrated when they realised they couldn’t see art work featuring local tourist attractions.
I have met some diverse people, and received very useful feedback. An architect visiting one of my exhibitions was quite engrossed in the theme, and gave me a number of research references which have become essential reading.
At one volunteer run gallery that I work with, the exhibiting artist pays a fee. It used to be a condition of the exhibition agreement that the fee would be waived if the artist ran a workshop about their work. Commission on sales could also be reduced if the artist invigilated.
From my observations, I’d estimate that only about 10% of visitors look at more than 80% of an exhibition. Casual visitors making an unplanned, spontaneous visit, probably only look at less than 50% of what is on show, and certainly don’t read any statements or text. I’d be interested in seeing some real statistics/research on this. Even informed visitors making a planned visit will often ask questions, which would have been answered if they had read the artist statement… so I am thinking about how to keep displays engaging, clear and simple.
Ryan Gander put on a great exhibition at the Ikon in Birmingham a few years ago, in which the invigilators wore specially commissioned gold embroidered tracksuits and deliberately challenged visitors to engage in conversation. I had one of the most enlightening art discussions. They asked me questions about the exhibition and helped me find new ways into the work.
I’m spending a day invigilating at a venue I plan to use for my “degree show” in a couple of weeks, so I’ll be looking forward to having longer to be absorbed in the art, and learning more about how the audience interacts with the exhibition.
Nice one Emma. Yes I imagine the experience of invigilating a contemporary art work off the beaten track is a bit like a day’s fishing. It’s meditative and unlocks lateral and creative thought – so much space to roam in one’s head. This type of slowing down sounds like a good strategy for making work. I used to go on a ‘non-lander’ ferry crossing from Belfast to Stranraer/ Cairnryan now – and found that also very revealing. Sitting in the dock staring at wave patterns. Watching the ship empty of people, then the cleaners coming round, then the ship filling up with people again – a kind of found artwork – an installation in real space….
Finding less passive ways of involving the viewer – another thought I try and think about this for my PhD show…. let’s see.
Doris
Reading this has brought to mind my experience of invigilating a couple of years ago- volunteers were sought to sit with Antony Gormley’s Field for the British Isles when they were installed at a local National Trust Property, so I put myself up for it and found it to be a very rich experience. I enjoyed engaging with the viewers, it gave a real insight to the different ways people experience work, focusing on different elements, but of course there were those who had visited to experience the building and these little figures excluded them from some of the rooms, but I think what I enjoyed most was the those moments of quiet that Emma describes, when I could experience the work by myself- I felt quite privileged in a way. Another perk was that I was given a ticket to attend a talk given by Gormley.
Yesterday, I invigilated in a large artist-led gallery/studio space with two exhibitions. I noticed the different experience of time – in addition to spending longer with the art work, I also had a lot of conversations and barely read a page of my book. Visitors included several people wanting to volunteer, people bemused by the exhibits, various artists intent on posting fliers/posters of their own exhibitions without looking at those on display, and confused people possibly with mild dementia. A lady came in to tell me that her son had hidden her yoghurt and she had no yoghurt for her lunch. Galleries are a place of safe refuge for dreaming and meeting.
One lady, after talking with me, made the leap of imagination offered by one of the artists on show, and left totally enthused, talking about coming back to look again in more detail. I think I could be content if I only made one such connection per day with my own work…
Fantastic comments by all of the above and indeed, as inviglators and attendees we dream, argue, wrestle and meet ourselves and ‘the other’. It is a fluid and sometimes unstable line to walk as an invigilator -allowing people the space to express their thoughts, unjudged and considered whilst weighing up whether to direct attention elsewhere, inform or let the discovery be in the difference. Sometimes we are a sounding board and other times a confident. Experiences that invoke emotion are quite often enhanced by being shared and invigilators play a valuable role in facilitating that. Humanity both observed and portrayed will always need to be felt.