Paul Purgas at Southwark Park Galleries
The temptation to get to the bottom of something we don't understand is sometimes painful in its pursuit. It can often spiral into forms of hatred and conflict between people even with benevolent or mundane intentions. Cities like London are often called a "melting pot" of cultures, languages, races, and beliefs, but in using this terminology, a degree of tolerance and acceptance is assumed, one that is not only naively untrue, but then seems to neutralise the real beliefs and cultures that comprise of this pot. An excuse to not bother trying to understand different cultures and lifestyles, simply because we are a melting pot, where supposedly anything goes. Ultimately, to try and understand each and every culture would be an endless task, and one that could not ever be inclusive of the nuances and minutiae of what "culture" really means; they can differ on such a granular level that it would be an anthropological task that would last beyond a lifetime.
Instead, engaging the senses is surely one way to appreciate cultures that are not necessarily aligned with one's own. At Southwark Park Galleries we find work by London-based artist Paul Purgas, whose solo show In the Temple of the Earth employs sound works inspired by the histories of design, music and spiritual philosophies of South Asia against a backdrop of sculptural pieces. Purgas also incorporates sound and materials gathered from the park grounds, pulling his audience back to their immediate surroundings whilst aurally transporting them to the artist's adaptation of the cultures that are dear to him, as opposed to a direct, explicit, museum-pedagogy.
Southwark Park Galleries is comprised of two sites, and Purgas' work can be found in the Dilston Gallery, a de-consecrated chapel along the perimeter of the park. This vaguely eerie, certainly atmospheric backdrop sets the scene for the work that is being housed inside. Upon entering, we are informed by staff to be cautious, as the gallery itself is very dark, and that there are delicate objects on the ground. A palpable darkness permeates the gallery, to be almost cinematic, with carefully manicured soil as part of the sculptural installation in the middle of the space. Navigating it is initially a challenge, but an exciting one. It also ensures that visitors are engaged from the moment they enter.
The darkened space brings a heightened awareness to one's other senses, and this is where Purgas meets you, with a stunning, hypnotising sound work which transcends language and, unlike the narrative power of the cinematic, leaves you with sensations that are not easy to name, to classify, even to identify. With three speakers, the sound is the viewer's neighbour in the space; the atmosphere in the gallery makes a lone experience rich and evocative. The speakers are built into the space in a way that makes them a visual and utility feature; they are impressively and immaculately designed, but do not mine attention from the full, multi-sensory experience.
But what is to be said about this sound? Purgas' influences are broad but come together satisfyingly. The summer period was largely drawn upon, apt given the exhibition's run from July through to September, with Ragas (melodic structures used in Indian classical music) used to evoke the monsoons breaking the summer droughts employed here as a foundation for the sonic landscape. Ironically, although summer plays a large part in the work and the artist's research, the grey, dreary summer London ended up having this year is, almost prophetically, reflected in the scarcity of light entering Southwark Park Galleries on this occasion.
Thinking again about understanding what we are experiencing and immersed in, the Ragas are structurally fascinating, and transport the viewer without holding their hand. Reading the accompanying press release, we learn that South Asian spiritual philosophy is also a significant part of Purgas' practice, and a speech from the Indian twentieth-century spiritual philosopher Jiddu Krishsnamurti has a dedicated segment between other melodies, dominated by bass. Unfortunately the clarity wasn't perfect when I visited (potentially purposefully) and it was quite difficult to decipher the content of the speech, but ultimately it was a good moment of respite between the vibrational sound elements, anchoring us back to human speech after being transported away by sound. Not being aware of what Krishsnamurti was saying reinforced the abandonment of needing to understand everything around me. When I write about art, I am not suggesting that I have cracked something, that I am engaging in whispers with the artist using a shared language, but that there is a beauty to be found in dedicating time and energy to releasing your own understanding and preoccupations, and surrendering yourself to the nuanced, individualised mental and cultural frequencies of others.
