Alfred Hickling 

Twenty Six Falling Things

Northern Gallery for Contemporary Art, Sunderland
  
  

Still from Twenty Six Falling Things by Paul   Harrison and John Wood
Still from Twenty Six Falling Things by Paul Harrison and John Wood Photograph: Public domain

Bruce Nauman once said that he wanted to make "art that was all there at once, like getting hit in the face with a baseball bat".

The video artists Paul Harrison and John Wood take him at his word. For almost 10 years they have perfected the art of getting whacked on the head and falling over. Most impressively, they do all their own stunts. The sound emerging from the darkened room of their latest installation has the familar resounding clatter of a bowling alley. In fact, this is pretty much what it is, with Harrison and Wood cast in the role of skittles.

The space is divided into rows of geometrical, white columns, each of which houses a television monitor relaying the duo's meticulously choreographed slapstick routines.

The two artists, wearing identical black outfits and dour expressions, inhabit a sequence of minimal white rooms, like Donald Judd boxes with booby traps. They stand there, unblinking and impassive, apparently unaware of the accidents about to happen.

In one of these, Harrison opens a door and is clonked on the head by a plank which has been propped up on the other side. In another piece, entitled Luton, the artists slide and collide as they sit ramrod straight in wheeled office chairs in the back of a moving container lorry.

Strictly speaking, as they are not wearing any safety belts, this art-work could lead to prosecution.

You are reminded of George Orwell's description of the future as a boot stamping on a human face forever. You compare their lot with other hapless partnerships - Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Vladimir and Estragon, Abbott and Costello. But mostly you begin to wonder how the duo feel when they clock off from work every evening. It must be so nice when it stops.

At least they seem to have allowed a little colour into their lives. In the final piece, Wood stands under a cloud of suspended watering cans. He pulls a handle and they tip up to disgorge lurid green liquid onto the floor. The spray hits the ground with a volley like a round of applause. They deserve it.

· Until 29 June. Details: 0191 514 1235.

 

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