Sci fi writers tell us that once you have visited a parallel world you will never be the same again and everything will be slightly dislocated when you return.  Some might suggest that entering an art gallery is to enter just such a parallel world and whether the experience alters your perception or challenges your notions of what art can be comes down to how it is presented. The point of much modern and postmodern art was to disrupt, to dislocate and to challenge the established order and while the likes of Duchamp, Picasso or any of the performance artists created work that broke boundaries of acceptance, the role played by the physical gallery in which they showed their work cannot be underestimated.

For many artists it is the white wall gallery that is the only option. It has been described as neutral, sterile and characterless and yet it is anything but. Something hospitals worked out some time ago that to paint the walls and corridors of wards white was just as likely to induce psychosis as offer solace. Far from creating a calming atmosphere or even one of antiseptic symbolism, the white walls presented an absence that the brain needed to fill. These days such walls are painted in pastel shades of green and blue and increasingly art is hung to disguise them completely.

The white walls in their cubic spaces can be also be the threshold between the chaos of the outside world and an otherwise unobtainable human orderliness that pertains to ritual, meditation and the sort of adoration associated with gods. That sense of ultimate orderliness should assume characteristics of the transcendental and be capable of lifting the audience on to a higher spiritual plane but once the art is removed to a more homely environment or a museum, that artificial separation from the chaotic outside world is lost.

The most recent exhibition I visited in a white walled gallery offered a sterile multi-cubic space devoid of natural light. The space itself induced a threatening claustrophobia. If the chaos of daily living was to be left at the door and a singular clarity was to take its place and crystalise aspects of our existence, the stark whiteness commandeered the space at the expense of the art. In many ways the art was diminished and isolated. The opposite was the now defunct Red Rhino in Adelaide which was anything but sterile with its accumulations of interesting objects d’art, coffee corners and people who dropped by for a chat. The art was required to fit in with the environment and there wasn’t a neutral wall to be seen. The chaos of the world travelled over the threshold with you and created a chaos of its own. While not a bad thing in itself, in that people were in the presence of art and hopefully discussing it, the number of distractions from the gurgling coffee to ancient signage soon took away any sense of isolation. Art in this space would probably never feel the same when hung in the more neutral surroundings of the average house.

Both environments promised different romanticised versions of ‘home’. One sought to emulate the cosy comfort of familiarity while the other sought to realign the world along specific lines. One sought to offer clarity to artistic expression while the other reinforced the decorative aspect of art. Having been removed from the context of the studio the work on the walls was asked to survive on its own. In the same way a third version of the gallery space comes with two annual charity art displays in Adelaide. If the outside world can be described as chaotic and the gallery as a threshold, there is little relief when faced with hundreds of works on a maze of screens. This parallel world threatens with its fecundity. The art fights with itself for existence in the cultural version of the Amazon jungle. The only guiding light comes in the form of prize stickers as the judges move from screen to screen looking to restate their own viewpoints.

So, the question is whether any of these commercial formats advantages the artist. Artists may well say yes in that their work is out on public display and that they are grateful for any opportunity. In another sphere there is the Biennale at the Art Gallery of South Australia guided by a theme. If the purpose of creating art is disruption, dislocation and challenge then this non-commercial format with the suggestion of contemplative inner sanctum where even the slightest sound echoes should meet the need. In this case though it competes with the building itself. The Gallery was established in 1881 and originally occupied two rooms in the city’s nineteenth-century library/museum complex. It is heritage listed. The towering ceilings lend themselves to works of height and width and for artists working with ideas rather than expectations of sales this would seem to be the ideal environment however, the art is asked to fit in with the building and the feeling of weight in the architecture lends itself to a profundity and seriousness of message that may not be the artist’s intention.

The virtual gallery seems like a better option if the computer colour offered matches the original, which in some cases is far from true, and the screen is large enough. It may well cost you nothing and as the artist you get to show what you want. The problem lies though in getting the audience to the site and holding their attention. With an average bounce rate of a few seconds per page, the reality is that the novelty soon wears off. On a phone screen the image is so small as to be worthless and yet for many artists the web page is the only option.

Just what do artists expect though? Living with work on a daily basis in the studio creates an intimate connection to process and materials, both of which are lost in a foreign space. The open studio would seem to be an answer- if there is space and the inclination to tidy up. Not everyone is so inclined. Work that ends up in a museum will certainly be displayed in an ultimate tidiness far from the studio clutter in which it was created and while its ideas or techniques may well disrupt, dislocate and challenge the order or perception of what art can be, the somnambulant stultifying ambience of the museum will soon render it as sterile no matter what colour the walls are painted.

So, what is the question?  Art and its audience have been further apart as in the days of petulant experiment with the forms and purposes of art but the means though which it is presented remain just as limited as ever. Perhaps there is no answer other than abandoning the concept of saleable art altogether as did the artists who built impossible structures out in the desert where no one was likely to see them but then again while the purpose of art is justified in terms of sales and investment, galleries of all shapes and sizes with continue to fulfill that function. In essence, the gallery is the tool of the owner/curator not the artist.

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