visitors an alternative perspective, as a
step toward reimagining the relationship
between human and non-human
worlds. Tall swaths of translucent gauze
printed with botanical imagery evoke a
dim, shadowy maze that flips the more
conventional human–environment
hierarchy. Floor and wall projections invoke
ghostly forms – a twilight world between
day and night, this reality and another.
In this world, time has slowed, trees are the
towering protagonists and humans, mere
shadows, cast fleetingly onto the extended
panorama of time.
In the larger gallery, other works offer a
pervasive sense of life beyond the human.
Vanishing (2009), a monochromatic
video documenting endangered animals
breathing – filmed by Laurence at Sydney’s
Taronga Zoo, for instance – is genuinely
transfixing, a stark reminder that human
or non-human, we all share the same air.
The tension between science as healer,
and science as harbinger underscores
much of the exhibition. Near the entrance
J
anet Laurence: After Nature, a survey
of the work of an artist noted for her
three-decade-long exploration of
ecological issues, is both timely and of a
time. Occupying two galleries within the
Museum of Contemporary Art Australia,
many of the assembled works – and much
of Laurence’s wider oeuvre – draw attention
to the threatened state of many of the
world’s plant and animal species in an era
of accelerated anthropogenic change. The
exhibition reflects the politically driven
nature of much of Laurence’s work that
resonates with recent mounting evidence
highlighting widespread and accelerating
biodiversity loss.
Filling one of the spaces, Theatre of Trees
(2018–19) – a new work by Laurence – is
the most immersive on display, and offers
to the main space, Birdsong (2006/2019),
Laurence’s interpretation of the traditional
wunderkammer cabinet of curiosities,
invites visitors to view extinct bird
taxidermy through small holes in a tall
cylindrical case. While Laurence uses
beauty here – the abstract composition of
the bird’s shapes and colours – to evoke
empathy for the many species lost due
to human activity, the enclosed cabinet
effects a palpable distancing from the
biology so carefully arranged within.
This recurs elsewhere, as in Deep Breathing:
Resuscitation for the Reef (2015–16 / 2019),
that fills a separate room to the side of the
main space. Here, floor-to-ceiling videos of
marine life surround a central glass cabinet
displaying specimens collected from the
Great Barrier Reef. Deep Breathing is indeed
wondrous, featuring scores of specimens
meticulously arranged by colour – yet
there are moments when the glass boxes
seem to act more as a barrier to connection,
physically and mentally, than as a means
of encouraging it. The installation acts as a
poignant reminder that the scientific
Janet Laurence: After Nature
—
Text Emily Wong
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