Art Nomad: S. Shurentsetseg and G. Gerelkhuu

It's been three weeks since I got back from Japan.  I mentioned last time that I made at least a passing attempt at resisting its pull, and it's possible that I should have tried harder, shouldn't have given in.  It's not that I didn't enjoy every second; in fact, it's exactly that.  Going back showed me what I was missing, and it's been a hard adjustment going back into the daily grind.  After all, back in August I was overwhelmed with the homecoming vibe, but now we're over it. 

And that's leaving aside the fact that I had just gotten used to saying Mongolian things, and now I'm stuck on "sumimasen" again.  Had gotten used to putting toilet paper in the bin and now I keep forgetting and flushing it.  I'd kind of accepted Mongolia's lawless laissez-faire and now I want people to follow the damn rules.  I never had Mongolian Days when I lived here before, but then, China was my last watermark.  After a refresher course in Japanese etiquette, my temper is short, and I don't really like acting like a pain-in-the-ass foreigner.  That said, I'm sure I'll get over it, if I give myself time.

Mongol Queens series, by S. Shurentsetseg

The art I'm writing about today has actually been off the walls for a long, long time; I just couldn't get around to finishing this post.  The day I went I was trying to make it to Naran Tuul to find some supplies before going to Blondie's for dinner, and my brain wasn't as into art analysis as it probably should have been when I made my first stop, at Altan Khaan gallery.  Their current show was S. Shurentsetseg's "In Search of Origin," a body of work focusing on the female perspective on Mongolian cultural and social life.  Like a lot of Mongolian artists Shuren uses the image of Mongolian women in traditional clothing and hairstyles, but rather than the icy perfection that you often see portrayed her figures seem to have more going on beneath the surface.  Troubled expressions mar their faces, inviting the viewer to contemplate the causes of their discontent.  As I stared at her "Mongol Queens" series, the gallery owner came over and suggested to me that these women may have been queens, but it was not entirely by choice, and often involved leaving behind their own families and cultures.

Mother and Daughter, by S. Shurentsetseg

Her compositions are, by and large, relatively simple; the figures are positioned in the middle of the canvas against a simple or abstract background.  Shuren's color palette brings a certain amount of life to these figures, but also helps to set the tone of each piece.  Some are much more somber, while others have an undeniable warmth.

Daughter-in-Law Coming From Afar, by S. Shurentsetseg

What struck me more than anything else about her paintings was her use of pattern.  Lines freely twine over clothing and background, helping to establish a sense of visual cohesiveness regardless of Shuren's color scheme or use of space.  This also reinforces the "Mongolian-ness" of the women, referencing the patterns often found on the silk used for deel (the Mongolian national dress).  Overall I think she made a good start of subverting the idealized female in Mongolian art, and I'd be interested to see the direction Shuren goes in from here.

Eternal Tale III (left) and I (right), G. Gerelkhuu

That said, "In Search of the Origin" isn't the art I've been hoping to find since that trip back in March, 2018, but it was just down the street.  The 976 Gallery was my second stop, where the current exhibition was "The Demon's Egg," by G. Gerelkhuu.  THIS was exactly what I'd been looking for in Mongolian art ever since beginning my master's with that painting course.  Here was mixed media, pattern, life, motion, cultural references that are both accessible and yet, somehow not overplayed.  At first glance, they appear to be monumental abstractions.  Each piece is several feet long, stretching up toward the ceiling.  As you look closer, you realize that these are not abstract pieces, not canvases, but rather works on paper, using collage, printmaking, and other processes to recreate chaotic scenes of Mongolia.

Eternal Tale I, detail, G. Gerelkhuu

These reminded me, to a great extent, of the Mongol zurag paintings of Naadam and other daily scenes, but there was a sense of historic importance given to these pieces.  Hordes of mounted warriors in traditional armor swarm across the paper, attacking everything from faceless foes to colossal dragons, gunmen to monks.  In some cases the cavalry swirls their way through the composition, but more often it's absolute chaos, a battle royale between anyone unwise enough to stand against the Mongols.

Over There, detail, G. Gerelkhuu

Gerelkhuu's work feels almost monochromatic in nature, so that when he uses more color it really draws in your eye.  But possibly what I loved most about these works is the way he uses printmaking to create repetition.  Although I'm a long way from my bachelor's degree, back then the media I loved most was printmaking - intaglio, woodcut, anything really.  While I haven't done as much of it personally since then, that passion haunts me, and my biggest teaching regret is that somehow I've never managed to pass it on to any of my students - the way each printing matrix holds infinite possibilities, and can make as many pieces as you want.  Gerelkhuu's art struck a chord in me, made me feel challenged to try it myself, see if I can develop an image I can work into my studies of Japanese art and experiment with making something that would fill the height of a wall.   It hasn't happened yet, because, you know, grad school.  Taking two courses is even harder than I thought it would be, especially when they both involve a lot of reading, but I've only got about a month yet, so I suppose I'll manage somehow.  Most likely with a lot of coke.