Plunder
Until January 11; Dundee Contemporary Arts

Plunder takes an interesting premise and runs with it. The art of collage, begun over 90 years ago with paper and glue, is redefined as a series of pop cultural borrowings in sculpture, video and sound, in a group show from artists all over the world. Starting with Dadaist Kurt Schwitters in 1921, the exhibition takes us on a brief journey through Paolozzi’s Pop Art magazine cut-outs of the mid-20th century, and album covers of the 1970s and ’80s such as Jamie Reid’s iconic God Save the Queen, all of which prepares us for around 50 contemporary works in the genre.

The idea is sound, and the selection of artists unusual and interesting, but there is something about this show which doesn’t quite gel. Like a collage itself, Plunder is a cut and paste collection of very different works whose recontextualisation obscures their own, very individual, agendas.

Glasgow-based Michael Wilkinson’s three mirrors containing cut-out poster images convey a cheeky sense of humour but also examine the way we see ourselves. Sewing Chimp Monkey Problems, using that old favourite – now dated – of a real chimp playing a human role, poses questions about our origins and self-image in a clever visual double-whammy.

Gunilla Klingberg’s two pieces, Repeat Pattern and Feedback Soundtrack, enjoy the luxury of a room to themselves, creating a high-impact atmosphere in the claustrophobic setting. It’s a self-contained environment of kaleidoscopic visual feedback made from familiar supermarket logos, like Lidl, Tesco and Spar, bathed in orange light from the colour-gelled windows. Big logo-patterned blocks dictate your movement within the room, while sound is provided by a feedback loop from the wall-mounted microphone and guitar amp. There is light and noise pollution, as well as visual bombardment and cluttered up space: a good summation of any contemporary city.

New York artist Paul Pfeiffer is represented by two of his works, John 3:16 and Goethe’s Message to the New Negroes. Both are small DVD video loops suspended from long metal armatures, like some sort of sports equipment. Found NBA footage is laboriously spliced together to create an endless twirling dance of metamorphosing athletes in the latter piece, while a ball (in reality many different balls in different settings) remains suspended in the air forever in John 3:16, a confirmation of that section of the Bible which promises eternal life. And so, sports footage and celebrity here share the stage with religious devotion.

Catrìona Black, Sunday Herald 07.12.03