I wasn’t familiar with Caycedo’s work before visiting this survey exhibition. Her practice considers the connections between nature and humankind, with a particular focus on drawing parallels between natural forces and human protest movements.

The exhibition is mostly beneath Plomo y Brea, an arresting set of nine traditional circular fishing nets suspended from the ceiling. The title—translated as lead and tar—reveals some commonly used components. Caycedo reflects that these can be used responsibly and endlessly recycled—as by the fishermen—or as sources of conflict, or weapons in those conflicts.

A large triptych video installation, Patron Mono, illustrates the relationship between a community and its river, with the extraction of both fish and gold but only at a rate which preserves the river’s natural beauty. There was something physically representative about the way in which it wasn’t quite possible to turn one’s back completely on any of the three videos, helped by the integrated soundscape.

I also found inspiration in the video installation Spaniards Named Her Magdelena, But Natives Call Her Yuma, which juxtaposed imagery of rivers and dams with urban protest marches. Just as water will always win over dams on a planetary timescale, perhaps society always progresses in the end, too. At least we can hope it does.

I was less taken by Caycedo’s inclusion of Durham Gala Banners and the like. I had intended a short rant in this post about a pandering connection of the exhibition to its location. It turns out that I’m just an idiot: I missed the fact that these artefacts were represented in Caycedo’s Tyne Catchment, exhibited exactly opposite them. I’m obviously no good at art galleries.

’Land of Friends’ continues at the Baltic until 29 January.

This is Wahid’s first institutional exhibition, which brings together three works into a single space.

The first and most immediately arresting is the sculpture Baba Gurgur. This is a gigantic, stylised reproduction of a Salvia spinosa flower, which is common in the Baba Gurgur oilfield in Iraq. It also represents the first moment at which oil gushed from the Baba Gurgur oilfield.

Set behind the sculpture is Sick Pink Sun, a projected pinkish circle which represents the strange appearance of the sun during the bombing of oil wells, resulting from filtration through the toxic smoke plumes.

The room is filled with the arresting sound of Naptha Maqam, a series of English poems in the style of Kurdish maqams performed by a contemporary Kurdish singer. The music is overlaid by occasional snatches of commentary from the artist.

As a whole, Conflagration is apparently about the relationship between Britain and Kurdistan. I wouldn’t have known that from my wander around. I found both the sculpture and the overall exhibition arresting, but only read the explanatory text on my way out. I had decided that it was about the exploitation of oil wealth and the connection with suppression of women, which isn’t at all what the artist intended. I’m obviously no good at art galleries.

’Conflagration’ continues at the Baltic until 30 April.