the art of non-interference
The 6th Asia Pacific Triennial (APT6) is what cricketers call a chanceless innings, an effort demonstrating control and composure, and proving impossible to dismiss. The only problem is that, as with any spectacle, some punters want to see risks taken, battles waged and fortunes swinging; the chanceless innings is rarely the best one to watch.
After sixteen years and six outings, the APT has reached a kind of terminal velocity, an institutional maturity that puts it out of touch with its roots. It is what we might call, however unfortunate the political connotations, a young fogey. Fortunately, it has a new constituency to court, and its gains here have been spectacular. But for its continued flourishing—measured in numbers and smiles, both refreshing currencies for contemporary art—the myriad, unruly energies of Asia’s art scenes may turn out to be dispensable.
This sixth APT is beautifully presented but inanimate. It is broad-reaching and—territorially at least—breaks new ground. Yet despite some visual coherence, it is almost impossible to get a handle on. Over two weeks, I returned again and again, never gaining traction on the show as a whole. This is because it has nothing to say. There is no argument being made. Of course, these days it is not a curatorial given that exhibitions should have a point to make. In the absence of one, the hapless critic can only turn to the framing of the miscellany.
It seldom pays to look too closely at catalogue introductions, designed as they typically are to flag arguments no one has had the time to pursue. But given the APT’s maturity, it may be time to arrest the free-flowing discourse about biennales and triennales as... The rest of this article is available to subscribers of Eyeline