Evacuation Tapes

Evacuation Tapes

“Kāore au
i
te māuiui”

he toai i te reo kōrerorero o Ruth Buchanan, i rō Evacuation Tapes. “He tohumate,” tā te reo iere maiangi, “He tohumate, he pūnaha, he manatōpū.” Ka āta whakarongo, ka āta paheke te reo. Ka āta huri te “I, I, I” ki te “eye, eye, eye.” Ka tōia te ‘S’ kia “sssssssssss.” Hei ā whea mutu ai te oro, ka tīmata ai te kupu? Ko tō Buchanan ake reo e rangona ana, kia tūturu tonu te rongo i te reo o te ringatoi ake i te wā e rere ana tōna reo i rō Evacuations Tapes. He hari tonu te piu o tōna reo, i tōna pāorooro i te whānuitanga o te whare whakairi toi, ka tōiriiri i tōna takiwā.

He tohumate, he pūnaha, he manatōpū. Ka pākaha atu a Evacuation Tapes, me hērā atu o ngā mahi nunui a Buchanan, i ngā pūnaha whakahaere me te āta whakarite, te āta wero me te āta whakararu a te tinana i ngā āhuatanga katoa. He whakamaumahara hoki i a tātou e pā ana ki ngā taura i āta whiria e Buchanan mā roto i hāna mahi, me tana whakatauira i tāna whakaū i hētehi kupu motuhake, i hētehi rerenga motuhake me ngā waitohu hoki. Ka kīia i konei, “I, I, I”, arā, ko ngā pūreta i āta tāngia ki te pātū, i te mahi toi e kīia ana ko My I, I, I be broke (2019). “Kei tua i ia ānau o te tinana, he uaua,” tana toai, me te karanga anō i ngā hanga o Can Tame Anything (kei roto hoki i te kohikohinga o Te Whare Pīataata), he mea i hangaia ngātahitia ki tōna tungāne, ki a Benjamin. Huhua noa atu ngā pātai mō te māuiuitanga, mō te kōingo, mō te kuhu hoki, e uia ana i tēnei mahi, me tana maringi kau ki te huarewa, ka rere, ka haukū ki tōna kākahu.


—


“I am
not
sick”

repeats the speaking voice of Ruth Buchanan’s Evacuation Tapes. “Symptom baby,” the voice gently sings. “Symptom, system, society.” Even listening carefully, language begins to slip. “I, I, I” becomes “eye, eye, eye.” ‘S’ starts to drag: “sssssssssss.” Where does sound end and language begin? The voice is Buchanan’s own, giving the artist an unexpectedly intimate presence as Evacuation Tapes plays. Her voice is lilting, even playful, as it carries language into the gallery, letting it hang there in space.

Symptom, system, society. Like much of Buchanan’s work, Evacuation Tapes pushes at systems of organisation and how the body negotiates, challenges, or disrupts them. It also offers a clear reminder of the web of relations Buchanan has spun within her practice and demonstrates her probing re-use of particular words, phrases and visual signs. “I, I, I,” she says here, the same letters spray-painted repeatedly onto the wall in My I, I, I be broke (2019). “Underneath every woman’s curve is a muscle,” she repeats, calling to mind the fleshly forms of Can Tame Anything (also in the Govett-Brewster’s collection), made in collaboration with her brother Benjamin. Questions of sickness, desire and access run through all this work, spilling over into the gallery, seeping and soaking into its fabric.

— Hanahiva Rose, 2024