On Kawara. Lat. 31º25’N, Long. 8º41’E, 1965; acrylic on canvas; 83.5 x 96.3 x 5.3 cm (32.9 x 37.9 x 2 in). Courtesy of Van Abbemuseum, Eindhoven. Photo: Peter Cox.

On Kawara’s Lat. 31º25’N, Long. 8º41’E (1965), one of his rare coordinate works, tells of an exact location. Its addition serves to anchor the show’s general thread of location as a symbolic or constructed place. Without looking up the coordinates, it’s an idea of somewhere else, a projection left to the viewer. Having seen this work the day before the artist’s death, I notice new weight in the piece’s reference to place. Why would Kawara want to make a point of this location? One potential answer might be that it records the location where the work was made, but the coordinates point to the middle of the Grand Erg Oriental, an unlikely part of the Sahara Desert in which to engage in a bit of painting. This is not at all a desirable destination but a place to not be at. However, in 1965, the incredible isolation of Lat. 31º25’N, Long. 8º41’E may have appeared to be the only safe haven from postcolonial global turmoil. Perhaps it’s the only site on Earth that still cannot be imposed upon except conceptually, by coordinate.

Patricia Reed. Pan-National Flag, 2009; digital print on industrial-grade flag fabric; 250 x 150 cm (98.4 x 59.1 in). Courtesy of the Artist. Photo: Adam Rompel.

One floor up, and directly above Lat. 31º25’N, Long. 8º41’E, hangs Patricia Reed’s Pan-National Flag (2009). Stripped of color and printed on industrial-grade flag fabric, it’s a composite of the outlines of every existing national flag superimposed on each other. Its presence as a stately symbol is heightened by being inset into the wall, and its visual weight comes from the point at which the thin black lines merge into a messy black knot in the center—a dark, global mass argument. Painful to look at, this flag proposes a state of existence that considers every national ideal simultaneously, and what results is a symbolic state of obliterated understanding.

Ahmet Ögüt and Cevdet Erek. Ahmet Cevdet Bey: “Jacket”, 2011; alerted woolen blazer, two chairs; dimensions variable. Courtesy of the Artists & Moiz Zilberman Collection. Photo: Adam Rompel.

When mergers are proposed, they have a way of offering idyllic optimism. They proffer the possibility that the union will result in the best of both worlds. When two artists take on this concept, it follows that the art might be about the failed attempts of two entities acting as one. Ahmet Cevdet Bey: “Jacket” (2011) is a remnant of Ahmet Ögüt and Cevdet Erek’s first (and to date, only) project together. It’s a physical manifestation of an attempt at compromise, and of failing to form into one person. Acting in unison as “Ahmet Cevdet Bey,” this specially constructed suit jacket manifests the possibility of symbiosis, of being joined side by side in the attempt to make art as one. The double-width jacket draped across the backs of two matching chairs makes the absence of the artists feel momentary, as if there were only a temporary break in activity. Yet, in this Waiting for Godot-like scenario, the anticipated arrival leaves the viewer to wonder exactly what the pair had gotten up to and when they will return to collect the jacket and resume their activities.

In Minja Gu’s work 42.195 (2006), the artist attempts to prolong the inevitable. She documents her participation in a marathon—and walks the entire distance. Completing the race long after everyone else has lost interest, Gu presents the quintessential artistic dilemma of accepting the idea of becoming; as it is with an art practice, usually that becomes moment is the one in which the work is recognized. She raises the question of how an artist might succeed and also still be true to herself. In 42.195 she attempts to do both, and her actions not only subvert the conventional points of fast movement, winning, and achievement, but also entirely dodge the act of becoming the marathon with all of its adrenaline, angst, and pain.

Pierre Bismuth. In Prevention of Technical Malfunction – Unplugged Bruce Nauman Video Work, 2003; two Sony Trinitrons, Bruce Nauman videos transferred to DVD, plinths; dimensions variable. Courtesy of the Artists & Witte de With Center for Contemporary Art. Photo: Cassander Eeftinck Schattenkerk.

Some works in the show negate the present as a means to embrace it. Pierre Bismuth offers the satisfying In Prevention of Technical Malfunction – Unplugged Bruce Nauman Video Work (2003). It’s exactly as you would expect from the title: Two side-by-side Sony Trinitron monitors, complete with standard metal frames, sit blankly on white plinths. As a video that is simultaneously ready to be played and never to be played, the efforts that protect it from “technical malfunction” keep it tethered to the present but also extend the work into the potential of a speculative future. Katarina Löfström’s Loop (The End) (2006) welcomes the inevitable by presenting a string of flashing red light bulbs draped from the ceiling that blink out the Morse code for “the end.” The work uses the present as a device to announce the imminent future that has yet to happen.

The Part in the Story Where a Part Becomes a Part of Something Else, 2014, installation view, Witte de With Center for Contemporary Art. (front to back) Gabriel Lester. Chance Encounters, 2011. Ceal Floyer, No Positions Available, 2007. Courtesy of the Artists & Witte de With Center for Contemporary Art. Photo: Cassander Eeftinck Schattenkerk.

On the whole, Witte de With presents one of the most rewarding group shows that I’ve seen in a long time, and there are many more works that deserve mention. Curators Heman Chong and Samuel Saelemakers group the works within each room to draw out congruent threads without forcing new meanings. It’s a huge feat to curate a massive show that still makes sense, and the exhibition is a far cry from the recent trend of heavy-handed tactics by the curator-as-artist. Instead, the show flows effortlessly, as the works are given just enough room to be considered and then reconsidered in the larger context. And that moment of reconsidering is the transition to becoming.

The Part in the Story Where a Part Becomes a Part Of Something Else is part of Moderation(s), a two-year collaboration of events with Spring Workshop in Hong Kong. It is on view at Witte de With Center for Contemporary Art, Rotterdam, through August 17, 2014.

installation view. Photograph courtesy of Bewley Shaylor

There is much talk in Perth of the city’s isolation, of the role that global mobility might play in local contemporary art practice. ‘Mobility’ here is a necessity, inevitable in some form, although its direction is another question as the city remains attached to a European history that is far from the reality of the continent and region. These concerns are visible undercurrents in Yonder, curated by Jasmin Stephens at the Perth Institute of Contemporary Arts, in which mobility is explored as subject and method. In scope, however, the exhibition is more ambitious: ‘yonder’ is a complex place.

The term suggests an elsewhere that could be metaphysical or political and the 14 artists included in Yonder run the gamut of interpretation. Australian Andy Best’s photographs search for Merlin and mythology in the Black Forest, whilst Singaporean Charles Lim Yi Yong’s elegantly simple video of rope slowly lolling in the ocean evokes the mutability of borders with significant political resonance. There is also a diversity of material approach: Clare Peake’s rudimentary vessels, sculpted from the earth of her regional home-town of Geraldton share the floor with Benjamin Forster’s Short Message Service, an electronic ‘sculpture’ delivering geometric patterns by request and satellite to pockets and handbags.

Simon Faithfull, Limbo: An Expanding Atlas of Subjectivity, 2012, live digital drawing

Yonder is, due to this inclusiveness, a busy exhibition but the heft of its engagement is relieved by a series of clever and surprising formal echoes. A reductive approach in many of the works, which frequently refer to 1960s and 70s strategies of distribution or dematerialisation, creates a negative space both physically and conceptually important. A shared art-historical irreverence means that traditions jostle and merge like meals at an international food court. Simon Faithfull’s observational drawings, made on a tablet, are transmitted to a printer in the gallery space and used to create a fragmented map of his daily experience in Berlin, applying the ethos of Lucy Lippard’s suitcase curation to naturalistic representation with digital immediacy. Heman Chong’s work, positioned on an exterior wall, provides a pertinent closing statement. Using Richard Long’s font and format, Chong presents a series of odes to international cities as though experienced on foot. Each sparse poem is heavy with a weight of emotion and imagery that is, importantly, fictional. Great journeys, as artworks have often suggested, can occur whilst stationary.

Heman Chong, Circle of Despair/Beijing 2002, 2004, from the series Walking Long and Hard Vinyl on wall Dimensions variable

Interestingly, Stephens considers not only theme and material but also the pragmatics and geography of contemporary artistic practice. It’s not accidental that a Singaporean artist based in London shares an Australian exhibition-space with an Australian artist recently returned from a residency in Berlin and a British artist who resides permanently in that international city of expats. Overlaying these ‘peripheral’ networks on a densely packed, sparely arranged exhibition with its feet on the ground and its eyes on the horizon means that Yonder often feels like a physical manifestation of the electric connectivity experienced online, although it insists on a slower and more considered navigation. In the connected world there are ‘yonders’ everywhere – or perhaps because of this, nowhere, for the role of ‘yonder’ may be to remain invisible, a dream. For those intimate with mobility’s sibling – with distance – this could mean everything, or nothing.