Showing posts with label Review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Review. Show all posts

Monday, June 21, 2010

Dead Fingers Talk

I've just posted my first review to Interface, about a group show in response to William Burroughs' Tape Experiments. Please drop by and let me know what you think.

Something wordless called me to this exhibition, the dry hissing of ghost tapes echoing sibilantly around the streets. As I entered the space, a portal reached out to me, bending space with cones of acceleration and deceleration. Plastique Fantastique's three-dimensional diagram was charged with a subliminal feline Scientology spell. It pricked my skin with a strange energy, and my brain was infected with the parasite-thought of Burroughs' reality-changing playbacks of tapes.

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Dead Fingers Talk: The Tape Experiments of William S. Burroughs
IMT Unit2/210, Cambridge Heath Road,
 London, E2 9NQ
28 May - 18 July 2010

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Mark McGowan

Dead Good Artist

TV News at IPS, Bournville



Two days after Remembrance Sunday Mark McGowan started six days of lying on the ground on Birmingham’s busy New Street in a semi-foetal position dressed in full military combat dress and a red beret. BBC Midlands today were there to interview him (as they were during the dry-run in September).
The performance ‘Dead Soldier’ is “the latest in a string of bizarre stunts”1 by “Yob artist Mark McGowan” 2 and it accompanys his current show at IPS entitled ‘TV News’.
Passers-by were outraged at the afront to our troops overseas, but I suspect that if the ‘reporter’ said to passers-by “This man is protesting against the war in Iraq” or “Raising awareness of the War in Iraq, in order to spark debate”, I suspect there would have been more “Here here”s and less “Not here”s.


“Performance artist Mark McGowan is no stranger to wild stunts” 3 and “his latest mind-boggling stunt” 4 of “so called performance art” 5 succeeded in getting exactly the Media attention that is the focus of the IPS show. The audacity of “Madcap Mark McGowan” 6 and curator Andy Hunt is impressive; their confidence in being able to put out exactly the right press release material to get the desired response from the press and incorporating it into the installation in time for the opening speaks volumes about the predictability of the press.
“Controversial artist Mark McGowan” 7, “a man whose art doesn’t really exist unless people take notice of it” 8, exploits the laziness of British journalism and it’s mindless sensationalism: On close inspection of the newspaper articles that form a significant proportion of ‘TV News’, the “Lonely maintenance worker” 9 is referred to as “Madcap Mark McGowan” 10 in three separate articles by South London Press over two years, and there were at least 8 separate stories in the show that had variations on the Question “But is it art?” If you believed everything you read in the papers “Whacky Mark McGowan” 11 has been 37 years old since some time in 2002, except for a brief period in 2004 when he was 38. If you believed the Mass Media unquestioningly, you’d be fucked. It is also notable how little evidence there was of some of the more arduous performances (Cartwheeling from Brighton to London, or Sailing a shopping cart to Glasgow for instance) ever having been completed.
As “The latest stunt by Camberwell Arts College tutor Mark McGowan” 12 ‘TV News’ is an exhibition specifically about the Media attention his work has drawn from 2001 to the present, as well as various bits of documentation from those performances and related letters of communication, and as such offers a good overview of his practice in all its aspects: the ‘Work’ in artwork; the Exploration of suffering; the manipulation of the Media. Frankly, considering the effort, time, and thought that has gone into this show (including the performance), I’d say the £4,000 fee that The Sun was so disgusted by was fucking cheap.
Although the Media focused entirely on the “Loveless Mark McGowan” 13, “A man posing as a dead soldier” 14, and stoked up resentment and anger against him personally, and against the Arts Council for ‘giving away’ public money, there is much more to ‘TV News’ than is immediately obvious to the casual observer. If the show has a failing, this is it: The performance ‘Dead Soldier’, on New Street, may well have achieved the artists’s aim of gaining Media attention for the performance, but it failed to draw any attention whatsoever toward the exhibition at IPS, which I think is a shame. One other mystery in the exhibition though is the inclusion of “£1,000 three legged celebrity impersonator race” as there appeared to be no press coverage in evidence, contrary to the nature of the rest of the show.


In conclusion, McGowan is far from being an “idiotic artist” 15, and ‘TV News’ provides a good benchmark against which to measure all future encounters with the Media. The show also throws up two things that I found surprising: The first is the idea (from one woman on a news report) that ripping someone’s head off is a measured response to having a car keyed; and the second is that in this whole exhibition of Media reaction to McGowan’s work, chat show presenters Richard and Judy are the only ones to provide a considered response to McGowan’s work.
© Stuart Milgram 2006


Mark McGowan's 'TV News' at IPS, 16 November to 16 December 2006
Performance: 'Dead Soldier', New Street, Birmingham 14 to 20 November 2006
International Project Space, Bournville Centre for Visual Arts, Birmingham Institute of Art & Design, Maple Road, Birmingham. B30 2AA
T: +44 (0) 121 331 5785

www.internationalprojectspace.org



1] “I vandalised 47 cars ‘for the sake of art’”. Jayne Atherton. Metro. 18th April, 2005. p.11

2] “Your art’s not up to scratch”. Nick Sharpe. The Sun. 18th April, 2005. p.15

3] “Running on empty”. Helen Pidd. The Guardian. 7th July, 2005. p.6

4] “Cartwheeling artist going nuts for rocks”. Sara Wallis. The Argus. 11th August, 2005. p.12

5] BBC Midlands Today. September 2006.

6] “Loon for one more on top”. Chris Pragnell. South London Press. 20th August, 2004.p.3

7] “Warning Mars race”. Adrian Pearson. Southwark News. 16th February, 2006. p.16

8] “Running on empty”. Helen Pidd. The Guardian. 7th July, 2005. p.6

9] “Bachelor’s 55-mile crawl in search of a girlfriend”. The Times. 27th December, 2005. p.26 There is no mention of McGowan even being an artist in this article.

10] “Off his trolley”. South London Press. 12th December, 2003. p.4 & “Pranks for nothing...”. Oscar Mortali. South London Press. 17th December, 2002. p.3, as well as note 6 (above)

11] “Forget Blaine..here’s a real British nutter”. Gary O’Shea. The Sun. 13th September, 2003. p.19

12] “Not art but crime”. Soutwark News. 10th February, 2005. p.10

13] “Love is Crawl”. Greig Box. Daily Mirror. 7th January, 2006. p.27

14] “Gunning for a reaction”. Jasbir Authi. Birmingham Mail. 8th September, 2006. p.25

15] “Dead Stupid”. Virginia Wheeler. The Sun. 15th November, 2006. p.25

Sunday, May 07, 2006

[insertspace]

Conditions of Carriage



Don't ask me how, but I'd got stuck in Nottingham one day, nothing in particular to do, but not able to leave. In a lazy, directionless mood, I fiddled with an old bus ticket, only noticing after a while a picture of a chap in naval costume on the back. He seemed to be in the act of falling over from too much rum, or perhaps dancing a jig. I was just dismissing it as an insidious example of viral marketing, when I heard a sea shanty playing. I was a bit fazed by the coincidence, half worried that I had stumbled into a hallucinatory Village where lost sailors rubbed shoulders with ex-government agents. As I got closer I found two Captains reading salty tales to each other; in a world of their own where it was normal to be dressed for the sea in the middle of England and talking of the deep and not the shallow.

Trying to get to the bottom of this, I took a second look at the ticket. There was a website, but more intriguingly a tiny drawing of a crow, a fragment suggesting more. There must be some kind of secret treasure trail around the city. I got on a random bus, muttering "Two stops, please?" which seemed to work. Looking hard at my clue, I enjoyed the clever mimicry of a transportation infomercial, calling into question the nature of the journeys we are all on, it was so authentic it was... it was... it was just a normal ticket, wasn't it.

Still, I wasn't going to be put off, this might be an important part of the initiation process: the secret would only be revealed to someone who persisted. I tried again, a different line, another two stops. Painfully nervous, I turned the ticket over, but instead of gold I just got more of the archaic dot matrix style text that appeared on the front. This must just be some gibberish spewed out by a malfunctioning machine. I glared at it, furious that I was being ridiculed like this. My watery eyes seemed to be desperately trying to make sense of the image, as if I could make it resolve by an act of will into something, anything, like ... an old computer game screen, Space Invaders, or Galaxian perhaps. Although... it must be meant to look like that: there was the Captain's hand jutting into the edge and that same website! I was back on track.

Waiting for the next bus I scribbled down odd details and then more joy: an oddly familiar dove became a free-floating symbol of many things at once: capital, transcendence, peace. Surely a sign that I was reaching some kind of understanding, accepted by the forces behind this peculiar game. There were a few duds of course, but I resisted the urge to check with the drivers whether they had the funny ones with pictures on, and made notes on everything, now that I realised it was all part of a much larger picture.

The next trip showed me a piece of another ticket from another time, a real or imaginary cloakroom had been guarded with half a paper stag, tangled up in string. All I saw just led me right back to myself, I started to feel I was feverishly travelling the folds in my skull, colour and number coded for your convenience: lilac 23; red 45; orange 36. With too bright eyes and shaking hands I took my next slip. Two things slammed simultaneously into my forebrain: 1) A slogan: "We are all living/We are all dying" like the logo of some post-Benetton corporation mindfucking us with an Eros/Thanatos double bind; and 2) a tiny drawing of a crow. I'd reached the loop.

Dazed and illuminated, I realised that I didn't need to find a copy of the last frame with the two birds together: the fissure was more perfect, suggesting thousands waiting in potential. I'd thought this adventure would show me the sights, but instead I had been putting together pieces of a puzzle where I was a part of the solution. Daily waste had become a gift, but one that attached itself to me symbiotically, giving me as much as I was prepared to offer it back. Think of a whole city of commuters spending their journey meditating on these little poems. Thousands waiting in potential.



© Ana Milgram 2006 for Sideshow



[insertspace]

Sideshow artist-led initiative featuring exhibitions, performances and talks took place from 21 April - 25 June 2006 in Nottingham and the surrounding region
Captain Ed in Nottingham on Saturday 22nd and Saturday 29th April
[insertspace] talk: 5pm, Sat 13th May. The Old Moot Hall Inn, Carlton Rd, Sneinton, Nottingham, NG3 2DG


Monday, January 23, 2006

Alisa Margolis

Vilma Gold



The first thing that hits is the smell. Not that usual art gallery smell of MDF dust in the air from recently built walls, or the smell of the emulsion that covers them, but a heavy, pungent, oily paint smell hanging heavy in the air. The visual impact isn't far behind - mouth wateringly decadent swirls and eddies of colour rise out of the inky black canvasses like coral appearing out of misty aquamarine water, or nimbus clouds billowing out of endless azure skies, or the retina-scorching clarity of gas giants and moons against the dizzying nothing of space. Opulent flowers bloom against aged backgrounds that resemble old scarlet velvet, and schools of tropical fish hover on the edge of existing in the patterns and paintily flourishes. The effect is one of visual overload, in the best possible way - the eye becomes hungry for more of these treasures with their strings of stellar pearls and naggingly familiar forms made of drips and explosions of decadently drooled paint.
These paintings are so very beautiful, and yet so very overdone, that in the tension between abject appreciation and borderline repulsion I don't know whether I want to laugh, cry or throw up; but the resulting indecision allows me to gorge on them for just another few moments.
© John Brainlove 2006


Alisa Margolis at Vilma Gold 12th Jan - 12 Feb 2006.
VILMA GOLD 25b Vyner Street, London. E2 9DG

T: +44 (0)20 8981 3344

www.vilmagold.com

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Reactor Party

Total GHAOS Preview Interview


On my travels around the Midlands I seem to keep seeing earnest groups of people wearing red and black, setting up tables, waving flags, and shouting through megaphones about the Reactor Party, Total GHAOS, and the evils of Rexism. I’ve been surprised to see people signing up to a manifesto they haven’t read in return for free badges and stickers, and wanted to know more about what was going on.

I've been hearing a lot about Total GHAOS recently. What is this, and how will we know when we get it?

Total GHAOS is Uncle Commi's vision for the future of the world. This Utopia is here and it is on Crocus Street, Nottingham. Total GHAOS is built on a foundation of egg boxes and powered by potatoes. Bicycle power-plants provide light and all GHAOS actors [i.e. the audience] are free together here NOW. It is open to you on the 7th 8th & 9th October 2005, we will then all know and it will be free to all to know. You do not need to get it.

You follow Uncle Commi, and despise Skepticus Rex, but how can we tell the difference between them?

Uncle Commi is our beloved leader, the discoverer of GHAOS. He consumed GHAOS and he is the most professional GHAOS Actor [i.e. the audience]. His I.C.S. . (Inner Conceptualising Space – Ed) is perfectly formed. We despise Skepticus REX, in all his forms; Skepticus REX is a cheating liar. He uses slight of hand and mind control to lead weak Cousins away to the deep river filled with piranhas. Sometimes Skepticus REX becomes invisible, this is a good way to find him if you are looking. If you do find him - crush him under your boot.

Who will be your leader? You have a free choice, as long as you choose Uncle Commi.

Why does everything have to be so black and white, surely there's room for people to find their own paths?

There are no paths, only one way. If there were paths they would all go the same way: The Reactor way, it is always the correct way. As the manifesto states,

"The Reactor Party is the only true source of authority within GHAOS, as such the need for formal Party sanctions is not contradictory to the principles of GHAOS, but is in fact a virtual necessity. Not to have sanctions would be to undermine the Party and suggest that the individual is totally responsible to and for himself. The reasons for the authority of the Reactor Party is not simply a matter of GHAOS, but is based on the perceptions of all GHAOS Actors [i.e. the audience]."

The true GHAOS Actor [i.e. the audience] should remember that if a seed falls on a path it will die. If a seed falls on The Reactor way, it might flourish and blossom the pink fleshy fruit of GHAOS. It's not so much black & white. It's more black, white, red, pink and grey – but as yet the Reactor Party has no official line on Michael Jackson's music.

You seem to offer GHAOS actors [i.e. the audience] freedom on the condition that they do what you say. Isn't that a bit contradictory?

All GHAOS Actors [i.e. the audience] are already free. But some believe they are not. Some are lead into isolation and non-participation. A weak GHAOS Actor [i.e. the audience] will stand in the corner or hide somewhere playing solitaire, or snake on their mobile. Doing as you wish is not freedom, we do not offer a condition that GHAOS actors [i.e. the audience] do what the Party says, only that if they do not join us NOW, they will later. As the manifesto states:

“Once all GHAOS Actors [i.e. the audience] understand and comply with their role within the Party, they will be free to follow the Party line and take action.”

I’m reminded of the Illuminatus Trilogy, where Chaos and Order are set up as opposing forces, but then seen to be part of the same system. What's the difference between GHAOS and Chaos?

In the beginning; the letter G is bigger than the letter C, it also spelt in capitals and therefore GHAOS appears to be more important than Chaos. Chaos may exist without any person's awareness of it. It does not necessarily come into being as a product of consciousness. Whereas GHAOS is the source and the product of engagement and participation. GHAOS is GHAOS and the forest is the forest. If a tree falls over in the forest, does the forest also fall over?

One of your proposals is “Search out and mercilessly destroy all seals.” What's your problem with seals?

The Seal is the natural enemy of the LYNX. On one fateful visit to the Earth’s surface, at a time when the Dark Arts were at their strongest, the Giant Red LYNX was captured by a gang of seals who viciously bit of it’s wings and left it for dead thinking that they had removed forever the LYNX’s ability for lunar exploration. Seals are there to be opened and broken. The correct action to take with a seal is to end it.

There’s something 1984 about all of this, but they seem to be playing a very subtle game under all the shouting and absolutes. Perhaps by becoming part of an exaggeratedly totalitarian system like this, GHAOS actors [i.e. the audience] become aware of how easily they are manipulated by the slogans and propaganda that are all around us. Or perhaps they really believe all this.

Maybe two plus two can equal five?

Maybe I could love Uncle Commi?


© Ana Milgram 2005

Read more about her experience of Total GHAOS here



Total GHAOS came into being between 7th - 9th October 2005, Nottingham, UK

The Reactor Party are a splinter group of Reactor


Saturday, August 13, 2005

Reactor

Function V



Experience One
I stood outside the gallery for a few moments longer than I would have normally. I'd never been to a Reactor Function event before, and despite myself I was nervous. I'd heard stories of people being taken off by shadowy figures and having unspeakable things done to them. I don't know if I was dreading this happening to me or if I ... wanted it ...
The masked figure at the door ticked my name off the list and let me in, and I realised that the entrance space was unusually full of people. We were being herded forward with no way to escape. There was the unnerving feeling that we were cattle being led to the slaughter.
I was surreptitiously given a way out - someone handed me a card offering me the chance to take part in a cultural experience, I snuck off up the stairs to a room covered with exotic fabric to be greeted by a man speaking an Asian-sounding language. Through gestures he led me through a series of rituals, answering my questions with polite but firm gibberish. I felt out of my depth and angry that I didn't know what was going on - echoing the experience of being introduced to rigid cultural practices as a child.
By the time I emerged, everyone else had moved into the main exhibition space with AuntyNazi barking arbitrary rules at them such as only ten people being allowed in the bar at one time, and announcing that the event had 'started'. The audience stood around with almost identical expressions of mild fear. I realised I probably shared this, and distracted myself by looking around.
The layout of the show was much like any ordinary exhibition, with individual performances going on in discrete areas, and the space as a whole had not been altered. Works included a picnic where audience members read a jumbled argument from an autocue; an artist who spent most of the event on the floor, moving at timed intervals; a man standing in an alcove turning with a camera in his mouth, his body partly obscured and recreated by screens; someone explaining how their plastic polar bear was a van; a rambling talk; and a (possibly) live typed commentary.
What really brought the event to life were the complementary performances by Reactor and AuntyNazi. The latter, with crude masks and loud proclamations demanded most attention, but if you focused on the surface alone you'd miss their own subversion of authority. Every demand for obedience to Health & Safety laws was accompanied by dangerous behaviour; every announcement of a new activity from the timetable was combined with muddled flicking through notebooks.

Meanwhile, in the background, Reactor could be seen ushering people through a door, followed by disconcerting bangs and screams; and moving scary-looking objects that seemed destined for use in violence and intimidation. Finally they shepherded us into a room, built up the terror by filling the room with smoke, and eventually let us escape into the street through a window.
Gratuitous non sequitur to be used as a quote: Lies, confusion and shouting - some of my favourite media.
© Ana Milgram 2005



Experience Two
Every now and then, for my whole life, I got this thing where I felt odd. The best way to describe it is to say that I felt like I was detached from the world like about a foot back from where I actually was. That and feeling like I wasn't myself. Whenever it happened I'd feel like that for several weeks before it wore off.
Then a friend of mine who sticks needles in me in the name of acupuncture told me there was a reason (a husband/wife block - whatever that means) and fixed it in about an hour.
So when I turned up to Reactor's Function V event (That's V for 5), guest curated by Auntynazi, feeling all husband/wife blocky and like I wasn't myself, what happened next was quite unexpected.
As around thirty "audience" members stood around on the slipway in the entrance to Spectacle, and while a guy in a cardboard mask (Luke) crouched, tapping a twelve foot length of drainpipe with a sledgehammer, another guy in a mask leapt up on top of a ten foot high pile of packing crates while introducing himself (Daniel) and Luke and the show while giving a general health and safety talk while the pile of crates swayed under his weight. During this time Daniel popped a lens from his glasses that fell to the floor and made a big fuss about it. A friend of mine called Ed bent down to look for the lens and I went over to help too. I can only guess that this was the reason why Daniel then leapt to the floor, threw his arm over my shoulder and proclaimed to the audience that I was called Steed. And it made sense.
It occurred to me later that Ed had worked with Reactor before and may have been an undercover performer.
One rule: Ten people maximum in the bar area at any one time.
At various intervals people could be seen both leading members of the audience out of the back door (we joked that they were being led off to a gas chamber) and carrying assorted objects through the gallery and out of the same back door; fire extinguishers, ammunition boxes, etc.
I found the whole experience quite disorientating, so therefore, for clarity...
Performances I actually noticed:
1] The main AuntyNazi performance of compering involving the renaming of audience members, announcements about the show, and dangerous health & safety announcements. Also, the bit where Daniel walked up and down gesticulating wildly while shouting "This is a background performance" and variations thereof for about five minutes.


2] A woman called Tina who had two TV/VCRs set up as autocues while she and various other audience/participants ate sandwiches while reading the dialogue aloud. I was so busy trying to remember to keep my mouth full of sandwich and keep up with the text that I have no idea what any of the dialogue was.
3] There was a woman in the bar area drawing portraits of people and, I think, talking to them, then sticking the pictures on the bar room wall.


4] A projection in the bar area appeared to be a description of people passing though the space, but someone told me it was playing off a laptop somewhere and was pre-recorded. I didn't believe them.
5] A guy dressed like a tired ballet dancer looking through a toilet roll; unrolling it as he turned in quarter turns while two videos played a live rotation and a recorded rotation of the same space.
There was one scary moment when Luke put his hand on my back and asked if I was ready, several times, in the dark. I wondered what was going to come. Then he rushed off to open the lift doors for...
6] A monologue by someone in a scary mask that sounded like a cross between Alfred Hitchcock and Bill Hicks in the dark with a torch, but his mini disk broke down (on purpose?) and when he asked if it was ok I reassured him.
7] An attic space like a kind of ashram where a guy called Harminder was just ending whatever it was he'd been doing (I think Ana had seen him earlier).
I went outside to show someone what I thought was a red lynx on the building next door and noticed some reactor guys carrying the same fire extinguishers, ammunition boxes, etc. as earlier out of the back door again and putting them in the back of a van. "Oh, I see".
I pointed out to Jude (made up name) the security guard that at one point there were more than ten people in the bar area and he told me that most of them were reactor and therefore did not count.
The whole event was a very interesting experience that I still feel like thinking about more and that was a week ago. If there's ever a Function VI, I'll definitely go, but I still want to know if the woman in the red jacket who was on the phone all night was dictating what was being projected on the bar room wall.
The finale was frankly the best way of getting the audience to leave a show that I have ever seen. We were herded into a back room and locked in. There was red light, a box in the middle of the floor with hazard tape around it, and an announcer telling us there was a count down to something explosive. The box kind of exploded in a lame way, but then smoke started pouring in through a vent and I thought about the earlier gas chamber 'joke'.
Then a loading bay four feet off the ground was opened up onto the pavement outside and everyone clambered out onto the street. Baffled. I wasn't sure if I was still Steed or Stuart again.
© Stuart Milgram 2005


Reactor Function V curated by AuntyNazi at Spectacle Gallery, Works by Roman Alaska, Auntynazi, Joanna Callaghan, Tina Carter, Robin Close, Katherine Cooper, Katie Doubleday, Nick Holloway, Harminder Judge, Reactor and Jonathan Waring, Saturday 13th August 2005
Spectacle Gallery, 38 Freeth Street, Ladywood, Birmingham
www.reactorweb.com

www.spectacle-gallery.co.uk


Monday, May 30, 2005

Calum Stirling

Mobilette at Vivid



You know how the first time you see an architect's scale model it really grabs you, the perfect detail, the way it plays with your sense of scale, of reality. For Stuart, this was when he was 15, on work experience at his local council. Of course he'd seen model railways and villages, but there's something precise and idealistic about an architect's model. Then in Taiwan recently we saw an architect's model of the gallery in which the model sat. We could almost imagine we saw tiny models of ourselves peering at a model of the model, and so on to infinity.
It wasn't until seeing the recent show by Calum Stirling at the new Vivid project space in Digbeth that we started thinking about how they represent a kind of fractal extrapolation of signs.

The key piece in the show was a model of a city commercial district on a revolving platform in a locked office. The model could be viewed through a window, but also via an old black and white CCTV set up back projected in the main space. Together with the accompanying music, the piece took on the feel of an atmospheric, European film - an impression reinforced by the German signage on all of the model shops.

There was other work in the show: a wall piece made from Renault radiator grill badges (The project space used to be an MOT/Tyre outfit); a video of fire hydrants; a wooden model of a Laptop; wood and metal constructions resembling seating; and a lightbox covered in a piece made from plastic bags. Although there were connections to be made between all of the works, they almost became a distraction from the strength of the signature piece.

This video installation had a particular resonance in this space. Because of the current regeneration of Digbeth into part of the "East Side" development, the model represents all architects' models in such areas of development and the video projection becomes a stage of magnification on way up to the scale of the city itself.

Oddly, while walking away from the show into town, we looked in a barber's shop window and saw a model of the shop in the window, with toy chairs and images cut out from magazines. I swear, if we looked from the right angle, we could see ourselves looking through the window.
© Ana Milgram & Stuart Milgram 2005

Mobilette by Calum Stirling at Vivid 27 May - 4 June 2005
VIVID, 140 Heath Mill Lane, Birmingham. B9 4AR

T:+44 (0)121 766 7876

www.modelcitizen.org.uk

www.vivid.org.uk

Friday, May 13, 2005

Gary Seven

The Custard Factory, Birmingham


I have this clear memory of having this recurring dream when I was a kid where I was running along the beach with a dog (I don't own a dog and never have) and there was this feeling of dread like I knew something bad was about to happen. I was watching myself in the dream as I got closer and closer to the jagged remains of a broken bottle point up in the sand. At the point where I was just about to tread on the glass, I would always wake up. The point about telling this story is that I later discovered that this was in fact a Government Information Advert that was aired repeatedly in the 1970s when I was growing up. I had the memory filed in the wrong area of my brain or something.
When I went to the Custard Factory Gallery to see the Gary Seven show, curated by Ana Benlloch, I had feeling the same thing had happened again. Gary Seven was a character from the second season of Star Trek (The Original Series), from the episode 'Assignment Earth'. The Character and his assistants; a transmogrifying (Transmoggyrifying?) black cat/woman called Isis, and a ditsy blonde 'hippy' called Roberta were obviously designed as characters for a spin off Gary Seven series, but Paramount decided not to take up the option. Enter a team of Writer/Directors that had experience of working on a Sci-Fi TV series from early Doctor Whos and Gary Seven became British.


Throughout the Seventies and early Eighties, Gary Seven had a small, late night cult following on BBC2, but was axed after an unpopular attempt at a Dr Who style regeneration into a new leading man.
The work in this exhibition refers back to the original episode of Star Trek and the British TV series and features fake TV adverts using a 'Donovan Masters look-alike' (the leading man in the series), a replica of a special effects workbench, examples of outsider/fan art (cardboard and gaffa tape phasers), a black plastic tunnel full of blue fog, and interviews with extras and security guards from the British studios where the series was filmed.
The overall ambience of the show is added to by Stuart Tait's audio work constructed from sound effects from the original Star Trek episode, and a bank of spotlights set up to resemble a lighting rig from a stage set. As I moved around the space a projection of images from Assignment Earth by James Preston flipped and changed on a wall projection and it took me a while to figure out that there were about a half dozen PIR sensors triggering the images to change as I moved between them. I tried standing still and it came up with images of a white computer screen from the same episode.


Works featuring in the show were displayed under names such as Will Fifty Six, Stuart Eight, Justin Zero, as a device referring back to the series. By the end of the show, I was beginning to remember the feeling I used to have when I was allowed to stay up and watch Gary Seven as a child, and was disappointed to be told it was entirely a fiction. At least it wasn't an advert this time. But this is.

© William Martin 2005


Gary Seven curated by Ana Benlloch was at The Custard Factory 9th - 15th May 2005
The Custard Factory, Gibb Square, Birmingham. B9 4AA

T: +44 121 224 7777

anabenlloch.net
Gary Seven Exhibition
aasgroup.net

Thursday, July 01, 2004

Mike Nelson

Triple Bluff Canyon at Modern Art Oxford



The purple walled corridor, low-lit and thick with the smell of paint, is a brief, claustrophobic space, and an entirely convincing illusion that leads directly into another. An octagonal room, deep maroon walls alluding to a kind of tatty opulence, presents a simulated choice of exits. Of the four available doorways (all identical, and glassed with mirrors), one leads backward, and two are locked. Where am I? Some kind of between space. An elaborate magic trick, dusted with perfect detail. The fourth door leads us backstage, and the bluff is revealed: behind those maroon walls, we realise the octagonal room is a space within a space, constructed of a wooden frame and boards. Looking at the raw back panels it's hard to believe they contain such a convincing illusion. With the same materials so often used to create flat painted surfaces, Nelson's octagon is not walked past but walked through; not looked at, but lived.
Upstairs, we find a reversal of the previous situation - rather than finding a way out, we are looking for a way in. A reconstruction of a cluttered workshop or studio, built in a similar manner to the octagon. In a film projected large against one wall, an American 'conspiracy theorist' states his complex world view, stacking warped perceptions, accusations and half-truths into a complex construction all of his own. From some angles, we see the film framed by Nelson's studio. The table, covered in books and magazines, an electric fan and a stool, juts into the frame. We can feel Nelson crunching through the gears of his various techniques, culminating in this very precisely tangled mess of constructs and concepts.


A ramshackle wooden tunnel forms an unexpected and incongruous entryway, cutting through a huge heap of sand that almost reaches the gallery ceiling at some points. The sand trickles and moves from time to time, glowing in the diffused light from the skylight and the perfect white walls. The room is pregnant with atmosphere, serene, surreal and expectant. Moving on, we see the inside of a wooden shack, sand cascading through the long broken windows. The gallery space has been divided, bent, torn and reworked: we have to detour back through the previous rooms to see the outside of the shack, perching half-buried on a spectacular reconstruction of a sand dune. These locations have a pervasive feel of decay and abandonment that plays against the obvious intricacy of their construction - once again, the illusion revealed, this time at the exact moment it is activated.
Nelson has filled the gallery with matter and meaning way beyond its capacity. Further investigation only adds to the undulating landscape of reference points, inflections and half glimpses: Triple Bluff Canyon continues to change around me long after I have left the gallery.
© John Brainlove 2004



Triple Bluff Canyon by Mike Nelson at Modern Art Oxford 8th May - 4th July 2004
Modern Art Oxford, 30 Pembroke Street, Oxford OX1 1BP

T: + 44 (0)1865 722733

Modern Art Oxford

Brainlove Mike Nelson interview

Guardian review (Adrian Searle)


Mike Nelson is represented by Matt's Gallery, London


Tuesday, April 06, 2004

Andrew Sheppard and Sophie Taylor

Japan Reflections



'Japan Reflections' is an exhibition of photographs taken by Andrew Sheppard and Sophie Taylor while enjoying a prize they won by sweeping the board in Fujifilm's annual Seven Brides photographic awards. The prize was 10 days in Japan as well as a tour of the Fuji factory and a chance to meet with some of Japan's leading photographers.
Tell me how the project first came about, and a little of your history and what you do.
Jess Morgan (curator) : Andy and Sophie approached me with a catalogue of photo's they took while on their trip. From the wealth of images they had (about 3-4 albums worth) I realised the potential for a show. Andy wanted the shots to have a life outside of their album but was unsure as to the potential of the work. Once they had secured a show with us there was no stopping them. Andy wanted to try something new with his images and between us we picked a selection form the main body of work and he had them all printed onto canvas. This has given the works a new added dimension and made them even more special.
Andy Sheppard : The project came about as my associate photographer Sophie Taylor and myself were overall winners of the Fujifilm wedding photographer of the year in 2002. in this competition you had to submit 3 images from one wedding and each of the three had to feature the bride. To make it different on our winning entry we had just the bride & grooms hands as they exchanged rings and the brides foot and hand during the service with the ring symbolishing the wedding and the confetti on the floor. During 2002 Sophie & I were motivated by the chance of winning such a fantastic prize which was 10 days in Japan.With every wedding we photographed the chance that we might win this fantastic prize motivated us to try different photography and experiment with abstract styles.
When and where did you arrive in Japan, and where did your travels take you?
AS: We arrived in Japan in April 2002 we were based in Tokyo and travelled to meet various Japanese photographers and discuss styles of work and compare trends and fashions within the photographic industry. We also had discussions with Fujifilm at there head office. We are very proud because as a direct result of are meeting Fuji agreed to test the UK Market for a Chromagenic Black & White film which we worked with them on our return to the UK (Neopan 400CN). We also visited the Fujifilm production site and lots of the beautiful temples and stunning architecture in around Tokyo.
Did you have any predetermined ideas about what you were looking for?
AS: We wanted to take images that reflected the life and the culture of the people and the sites of Japan, looking at differant viewpoints to those the normal tourist would take.

Do you see this work as documentary photography?
AS: I must admit we didn't have this in mind at the start of the visit. Although we are both inspired by the work of Cartier Bresson and his amazing ability to capure a moment in time. Also inspired by the work of Dorethea Lang which can show so much expression and tell a complete story just from an image. Looking at the results I guess what we are inspired by comes through in the images we took.

© John Brainlove for fusedmagazine 2004

'Japan Reflections' at The Gallery April 5th - May 9th 2004
The Gallery, Stratford Leisure & Visitor Centre, Bridgefoot, Stratford On Avon, Warwickshire, CV37 6YY

T: +44 (0) 1789 268826



Sunday, November 23, 2003

Tim Noble & Sue Webster

PS1




Tim Noble and Sue Webster

Dirty White Trash (With Gulls), 1998

Tim Noble & Sue Webster are famous for working with trash. They are famous for other things too, like getting on TV and telling an old couple to fuck off (on the life-swap programme ‘Living with the Enemy’), or for wearing leather jackets and looking like pop stars. As you might expect, lots of art people don't take too well to this kind of thing - their work was dismissed in many quarters as shallow gimmickry and over-simple attention seeking. "This is rubbish!" you imagine the oldster traditionalists screaming, arms thrown in the air in affected outrage, "is this what Art has become?" Of course, they have lots of fans too, who admire them for their faux-punk attitudes and take-no-shit style. Tim & Sue are second generation yBa's, shameless self-promoters, ligging and ad-libbing their way to success - one of their first notable pieces ("Hijack", 1994) was a series of fly-posters featuring their faces plastered over those of Gilbert & George accompanied by the words "Tim Noble, Sue Webster, The Simple Solution".


Forever, 2001

Tim and Sue operate using the language of trash and glamour, pop culture, neon, and kitschy romance. Their main body of work is built on their shadow sculptures – piles of everyday refuse painstakingly organised to cast detailed shadow self-portraits against the gallery wall. It’s an impressive craft. They also make neon signs, like Tracey Emins, but bigger and more Vegas. At PS1 their neon piece, spelling out the word “Forever”, dominated an entire room with its flickering blue-purple-red rhythmic pattern. There’s a kind of sentimentality about this work that is offset by the possibilty of it being ironic in some way. Forever how? Forever until someone takes the plug out when the exhibition comes down?



Dollar Sign, 2001
There’s another neon piece in the shape of a ‘$’. It’s attractive, casting pretty light shapes onto the walls of the darkened space. It resists any immediate interpretation because of the ubiquity and blandness of the dollar symbol. It might not be the most revealing piece of work, but the tension between the attractice flashing lights and their possible meaninglessness is hypnotic. It holds your gaze even though you think maybe it's a bit shallow and simplistic. You can't help liking it as you walk away thinking "so what?"

"The New Barbarians" is a sculpture, from ages ago. It was conceived by Tim and Sue but the actual making was done by other people. This may really get some people's goat if they don't understand that having ideas and making them happen is an essential part of being an artist, regardless of whether you physically make anything. But maybe these kind of people would like 'The New Barbarians' anyway because it looks like a nice, well-made sculpture. The idea is simple. Two neanderthal figure amble towards you, naked, over-long arms dangling at their side. Their faces look like a Duane Hanson sculpture of Tim and Sue - that is, clearly recognisable but malformed to look odd.



The New Barbarians, 1997-99

The New Barbarians represent humans as crude, basic, animalistic, curious... they deflate the arrogance of the 'paragon of animals' view of humanity. But at the same time, these Barbarians are touching, walking out together, naked and brave. They are semi-formed, simplified creatures. This piece was made between 1997-99 - perhaps this is Tim and Sue's pre-millenial gesture, humanity walking onward in curiousity and ignorance. I can't help wondering if this work will be remembered in a few years as great, iconic art that really spoke of its time, or as the arse end of the yBa hype. I hope it's the former - beneath their deceptively flippant ego act, Tim and Sue are making some fascinating stuff.

© John Brainlove 2003


Tim Noble and Sue Webster at PS1 October 12 – December 29, 2003
P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center, 22-25 Jackson Ave at the intersection of 46th Ave in Long Island City, 11101, New York

T: 718 784 2084

www.ps1.org


Wednesday, July 02, 2003

Mike Nelson

Interview


Mike Nelson creates large, sprawling installed environments that completely transform the interior of any space they inhabit. From the construction of rooms themselves (Nelson's installations often take the form of a series of rooms built within a space) to the vast array of objects that inhabit them, these are theatrical, experiential, absorbingly detailed pieces that defy easy interpretation. You can find yourself, in just a few steps, travelling between a banal office space (complete with working PC, desk, plants, plug sockets, light switches) to the inside of a garden shed (petrol smell, old tools, planks, nails, rags) to an empty room bathed in eerie red light. Both disorientating and mesmerising, Nelson's work invites the viewer to lose themselves not only in the maze-like constructions but in the myriad of associations and interpretations they offer.
Nelson is currently represented by Matt's Gallery in London. He was nominated for the Turner Prize and represented England at the Venice Biennale (both 2001), and has since exhibited at the ICA in London and the 2002 Sydney Biennale. The installation "Lionheart" has been purchased for the collection of the New Art Gallery, Walsall, and will be on display 25th July-14th September 2003.
Is the element of surprise important to the viewer's experience of your work?

Not always, say with a piece such as "To the memory of H.P.Lovecraft" (1999) it was - I'd hung a heavy steel re-enforced door at the entrance to the gallery, inside I had demolished everything up to the height that the unseen beast could have reached which had fictively tried to eat itself out of the white cube, whilst it emulated the subtitle of a Borges short story; a kind of parody of a parody. Here the scene was quite surprising, stepping off the street in that most gothic of cities Edinburgh, the scene was of utter rabid devastation. "Tourist Hotel" also used surprise in that it gave the viewer a fake or misleading main exhibition, the real bulk of the show (which looked less like "Art") being squeezed into and underneath the stairs and mezzanine of the Douglas Hyde gallery in Dublin. However, Lionheart does not use surprise in such a way, partly because to some extent it is less a built environment for a particular space, and more an autonomous object of sorts. Surprise is a good narrative device. It cannot replace a piece of densely well written description or prose, it can enhance or punctuate it.
"Lionheart" seems a piece full of suggestion, a kind of visual fiction to be pieced together by the viewer. Do you see this as narrative or leaning more towards the surreal?

The two terms are not mutually exclusive, but I would say that narrative is the element that forms the structure for the piece. If you wanted to compare it in terms of art historical terms there are many that could have some pertinence. In terms of how I perceive the piece being read your description is quite accurate; the piece was made in 1997 at a point when I had developed a way of working which used the construction of a hybrid script to create an object or environment through which the viewer could access the essence of the piece but still relate it to their own experience or history - their own script. I was also particularly interested in the resonance of an object that knows why it's there even if you don't. This is something that I think you will find in the work of Paul Thek through to later artists such as Mike Kelley, and often appears like, or is, the detritus of a performance.
Do you want people to forget they are in an art gallery when they look at your work?

I want them to slip between that self-consciousness of looking within an art gallery and a more meditative state where the act of movement and viewing absorb to the point where the visitor is reading the work sub-consciously or storing the information to be re-read later, maybe within a context that makes sense of the information at some time in the future.
You have said that your work requires a "particular chemistry between the installation and it's location". Does this make the reconstruction of works in a new space difficult?

I don't actually remember having said that. However, there is often a relationship between the work and where it was made. This does not undermine the work when the piece is re-installed, it may change it, and different pieces are affected to varying degrees. When a work is remade or re-installed its status is changed, especially when it is put into a museum collection, it becomes historical, like a document, it speaks of its time and place just like a painting by Goya or Barnet Newman would.
How carefully do you pick the objects you use in an installation? Is there any element of randomness to what goes in?

I tend to be looking for certain objects or materials when I'm building a piece, obviously within that equation with the type of materials I use there is a huge element of chance as to what you find at that given time and location. Lionheart was built at the time of the 1997 general election, and was constructed out of materials that came from places other than the country they were collected in: Materials from London were collected and transported in the back of my pick-up to Bremen in Germany where more materials were collected. I also took a trip to Helgoland, an island in between England and Germany, where materials indicative of that place were gathered. The materials were very indicative of the countries and there current geo-political position at that point. The London materials were from a very wide and eclectic range of countries reflecting our colonial history, whereas the German material was predominantly from Turkey and the East of Europe reflecting the trade routes that had reopened since the fall of the Soviet Union several years earlier. Helgoland's relevance was that it is a piece of literal common ground between the two countries, not only in geographical terms but also in that ownership of the Island had changed hands between them; the British swapping it with the Germans for Zanzibar at the end of the 19th century. Lionheart was built to resemble a notional island.
Your use of surrounding contextual material (e.g. the book accompanying the ICA show, handouts and essays) suggests that you want to make your installations harder to pin down rather than easier...

You say that as if it is a bad thing. I think it should perhaps be re-phrased as opening up the possible frame of reference. I think the book; "The Forgotten Kingdom" was a generous accompaniment to the ICA show, all the texts within it were relevant to the piece or previous pieces and existed as another layer of reading to the works. It was seen as a kind of reader to "Extinction Beckons" my previous book and to "Magazine" the book I have just put out.
Is there a perverse pleasure in transforming the corridors of somewhere like the ICA into a grubby 80's-style amusement arcade? Do you enjoy toying with people's expectations of certain institutions?

In that particular case yes, it was so close anyway all it needed was a little push.
Do you see being nominated for the Turner Prize in 2001 as a largely positive or negative experience?

It was exactly as I imagined, once nominated its inevitability negates all discussion of pros and cons.
What do you have planned for the digital piece you are making for www.e-2.org?

The piece demands that I don't discuss the potential workings of it in detail, it has been going on for some time now and as it does history and technology complicate its completion.
What other projects do you have coming up in the future?

I converted a 1954 GMC bus into a Red Crescent mobile hospital come veterans opium den in San Francisco recently, which hopefully is moving to New York in September. Also in September I shall be in the Istanbul Biennial, and next year I'll be doing a show at Modern Art Oxford.

© John Brainlove 2003



Mike Nelson was interviewed via email 2/7/03 for fusedmagazine.


Friday, August 23, 2002

B.OPEN

Baltic Centre


Welcome to the Baltic. A vast new centre for the arts, and the latest in the increasingly ambitious series of 'urban regeneration' projects brightening up many of North England's post-industrial cities. The Baltic building was a huge disused flour mill right on the southern bank of the river Tyne - in it's new incarnation a Tate Modern-esque cathedral to contemporary art.
It's impossible not be impressed by the size of the regeneration project. From the 'blinking eye' pedestrian bridge that leads over the Tyne to the magnificent Baltic interior, they've done a damn good job. It's impossible to fault the Baltic for it's ambition. Of course, all this has very little to do with the art in it's opening show, B.OPEN.

(l) Carsten Holler, Neon Circle (2001) / (r) Jane and Louise Wilson
Initial signs are not good. On the way over the bridge we spot a few fairly ordinary Julian Opie efforts - big people symbols in the style of a public information sign. And as usual, I can't fight the initial 'so what?' reaction this work inspires. Big plastic people reduced to a symbol... and? It's just soooo 1999.
Navigate your way past the first wave of shops and restaurants and you're rewarded with a big B.ORING flashing lights installation (above) that fails to engage. It's supposed to alter your perception of the space apparently. But in my experience most of the things in any given space do that without being big, expensive and flashing on and off annoyingly. Good for the kids though.
Jane and Louise Wilson's work isn't so good for the kids. 'Dreamtime' is another one of their snail-pace exploration movies. Many people like this work. I'm not one of them. I remember being nonplussed by everything they've done except an early work in which a gaunt figure floated around the space in question like a ghost. No such fun here - this piece demonstrates just how boring the (intrinsically exciting) US space programme can be if placed in the hands of overexposed London video artists.
I feel like I'm having an allergic reaction to this art. Why am I failing to engage with it properly? Is it the size and spectacle of Baltic distorting my experience of the work? Or is this show just below par? I think about it as I go up the wobbly metal stairwell to the next floor.
Some large gongs that were supposed to be here have already been removed. Shame, as I liked the idea of all that noise reverberating around the gallery. A performance by a Japanese artist who ties bread to his body has long since passed. Maybe he was the only bread-related artist they could find. There are some anonymous photos with a sport/ ballet thing going on. This work has put me in an unkind mood somehow, tarnishing my initial enthusiasm with listlessness. More large Opies that may as well not be there. People mill around, attempting to inject them with some significance. They fail, and leave. Am I being lazy in looking at them this way? Or are they really this vacuous? Probably both. I move on.
Chris Burden, famous for being a radical live artist in the Seventies, has made some Mechano bridges including a scale model of the Tyne bridge (the real bridge is visible from the 4th floor gallery window). This is a project that engages primarily through it's industriousness - the bridges are interesting from the craft angle, and look like they took a long time to make. One interesting thought is the way that artistic process relates to that of actual labour. They are interesting, but I can't help thinking Chris Burden used to be a hell of a lot more interesting.
I feel a little cheated. The building is a lot more interesting than it's contents - let's hope that Baltic can put together some more coherent shows to start justifying that monstrous price tag.
© John Rogers 2002


B.OPEN: Chris Burden until October 6; Jane and Louise Wilson until September 1; Carsten Holler until August 26; Julian Opie until October 13 2002.
BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead Quays, South Shore Road , Gateshead. NE8 3BA
T: +44 (0)191 478 1810

www.balticmill.com


Thursday, June 13, 2002

John Russell

The Collagist

John Russell - The Collagist John Russell - The Collagist
(l) The Collagist advert image / (r) "Silver" 2002


Excerpts from press release -
"Aesthetics have exploded beyond their traditional institutional confines and ART IS CALLING INTO QUESTION its own status. Works of Art have lost their aura. Art is NO LONGER SEPARATE TO THE REST OF EXPERIENCE. Art has seeped out from under the gallery door. WARNING: Boundaries are being blurred and audiences are WIDENING. It's a VAST AND TERRIBLE ARTISTS' PLACEMENT SCHEME out there. A cat which had been lying on the wall, spews forth a green torrent of putrescent AESTHETICISM, teeming with reflected images of TORTURE and child slavery, sex and the tears of the obsessed. The street is knee-deep in blood, patrolled by a thousand sculptures - huge obelisks with connected body parts and FEMINIST INSTALLATIONS. A group of YORKSHIRE MINERS are fighting mutant children."

.....

"There are a thousand Richard Serra sculptures and Louise Bourgeois Spiders silhouetted against the sinking sun. The sky is black. "WE ASK FOR YOUR COOPERATION AT THIS TIME ... PLEASE REMAIN CALM" ... Our eyes watch the spectacle. An exact replica of Mona Hatoum's body filled with maggots is conducting traffic and organising contra-flow systems. More and more, boundaries are being blurred and ACCESS is WIDENING - Barriers are disappearing. Gangs of SOCIALLY RESPONSIBLE ARTISTS are hunting in packs down the Marylebone Road. THE MELANCHOLIC, IRONIC, ROMANTIC ARTISTS are musing over images of what-cannot-be, and of what-never-was but talk of what-might-be-but-never-can-be, one of them is carrying a carefully protected WEAK FLAME OF HOPE which flickers IRONICALLY in the cold wind."




The press release for John Russell's 'The Collagist' is a massive thing, a complex, rambling piece of philosophy-fiction-nonsense-theory-nightmare that forms a parallel with the cut-up image/context jigsaw technique that makes up his collages. It rants about the state of contemporary art, the closing of the traditional art/ mass cultural divide, oscillating between a statement on postmodern art and a Burroughs-esque cut-up horror story. If the effect of the bland, institutional statements that Russell lampooned in BANK's 'press release' show is to close down possibilities by spoon feeding meaning, then the effect of this press release is the opposite. Meaning seems to evaporate as soon as it is formed, or change from one image to the next, until inconstancy becomes the meaning.
The collages themselves are large (1x2m) glossy computer prints consisting of cut-and-pasted Photoshop imagery and backgrounds. The prints include printed frames around the outside - some ornate, gold and decorative, some plain strips of colour. These borders seem to oppressively contextualise the images, as if to remind us of the baggage that comes with looking at them. The are very self-aware objects, never letting us forget what they are - the weight of art history and theory has been put on display along with the work. The works are titled after the colours of their "frame" borders, suggesting that these strips of colour are more important than the actual content of the image - everything we see in these images is subject to the oppressive contextualisation that exists elsewhere. Perhaps this is what the press release refers to in it's portrayal of the art world as an apocalyptic horror story - things have become so tangled and unclear that 'making sense' doesn't seem to make sense any more.

"Green/Blue" (2002)
This uncomfortable context-content relationship underlines the work's subjectivity and interdependance with everything else that is going on around it. The use of other artists' work can be construed as satirical - in "Green/ Blue" (above) Jake and Dinos Chapman's sculpture becomes a drooling, hilarious B-movie monster, making us wonder how we could ever have taken it seriously in the first place. By appropriating images of other artists' work into the context of his own, Russell reframes them outside of their usual reassuring critical setting, opening them up to new lines of interpretation - and criticism.
How all these ideas and images fit together is not exactly clear (why does Peter Frampton have a giant bird head?) - but perhaps that is one of the points Russell is attempting to make. I think John Russell wants to portray some kind of truth in this work - and if the truth happens to be confusion, then so be it.
© John Brainlove 2002


The Collagist by John Russell at The Trade Apartment from 25th May - 29th June 2002.
The Trade Apartment, 404-408 Coldharbour Lane, Brixton, London SW9 8LF

T: +44 (0)20 - 7733 8181

www.thetradeapartment.com


Sunday, February 03, 2002

Levis



Art into Advertising

A young man stands in a brightly lit room, turns, and runs straight through the wall... it explodes at his touch. He keeps running, flying through more and more walls, unstoppable. A woman appears running next to him, exploding into the scene in a shower of rock and plaster. They pause, panting, and look at each other... then run straight through the side of the building. Suddenly they are running vertically up the trunks of two giant trees. They jump... upwards, outwards, away from the earth, into the sky, and space. Not only bent on escape from the confines of their prison, they have escaped even from the confines of the planet. Its beautiful, ultra-modern, hi tech melodrama set to an arrangement of Hendel. Every time I see this piece of film, the final moments make my mouth drop open with amazement.
Which is quite often at the moment. The film has been on heavy rotation on C4 and ITV, because it's the latest Levis ad. Which means, of course, that it probably isn't art after all. It was devised by a bunch of advertising guys, and that amazing final scene is plastered over with the 'engineered jeans' (the ones with the funny diagonal cuffs that nobody likes) logo, 'freedom to move'. The freedom on offer isn't at all obvious, unless it's the freedom of the Levis company to appropriate art language in order to try and flog jeans.


A little investigation via the Levis website reveals that film is entitled "Odyssey", and directed by Jonathon Glazer, the music video director and creator the gangster flick 'Sexy Beast'. It brings to mind a similarly flashy piece by Chris Cunningham, commissioned for the Royal Academy's 'summer blockbuster' exhibition Apocalypse. In Cunninghams piece, entitled "Flex", a man and woman physically batter each other, brutal, naked, in some kind of life or death struggle. No motives are revealed for this slightly sickening fight but a primal instinct of some kind. The film is striking for its beautiful imagery, and also for its lack of content... what you see is what you get.
Cunningham and Glazer serve as an interesting examples - they represent a new group of commercial/creatives who make extremely striking, artistic works in the field of advertising (presumably for large piles of cash). Cunningham created Sony's famous "Mental Wealth" Playstation campaign (featuring a girl with a CGI altered face) and has directed music videos (notably Portishead, Bjork, and Aphex Twin), but in interviews has stated that he sees no boundary between his commercial work and his art-context work. On the other hand, artist Simon Faithfull (co-director of e-2.org) was recently quoted as saying -
"An artist may sometimes earn money through design work but an artwork is not a solution to a design brief and so I wouldn't see commercial web design as art." (BBCi, 'Well Connected Art')
This a sentiment which directly opposes the idea of these two directors' work as art. Their films are undoubtably pre-approved and heavily storyboarded existing, as they do, in a primarily commercial context.
Many artists seem to simply not care about using commercial money where it is available, shrugging off ideological concerns (e.g. Absolut Vodka's commissions, Tracy Emin's gin advert). But the broader academic dialogue, based in Marxism, Adorno's ideas of the 'Culture Industry', and more recently Naomi Klein's work, suggests otherwise.


Can corporations function as benevolent sponsors of the arts, or does their underlying agenda to hijack culture by imbuing their product with cultural value make the relationship damaging rather than supportive?
Yes. They usually have too little idea about art to be able to "hijack" anything. Your question is phrased with the assumption that this is what they want to do, when in many case they only want to show that their company is "putting money back in the community" and they don't care too much where, as they have to spend a certain percentage per year, showing the public at large that they are not just there to make money. The problem occurs when the curator THINKS they have to pander or indeed anticipate the sponsor's (often imagined) objections and present a self-censored programme. In the end if the curator thinks they are being manipulated, they are perfectly able not to go ahead with the event. However most of them will have put their self promotion ahead of ethical or cultural intergrity and will of course go ahead with it. They will be very proud to have organised a show sponsored by Becks and Sony, as it will make the show seem more official/established/important. I therefore argue that the curator's/ organiser's underlying agenda (self-promotion?) has hijacked commercial brands to give credibility to their cultural endeavours. Pierre Coinde, Co-Director of The Centre of Attention
It's not a question of outlook, perspective, feeling, or sentiment. Or agenda. Corporations don't hijack art in addition to supporting it; benevolence is damaging. The State has to be included in this formula, too. Look at how philanthropists in the C19 paid their fortunes into schemes for improving the working class. Improving the working class? The working class don't need to be improved; they need to be liberated from the class system. It's not so much that the philanthropist or the philanthropic corporation distorts the culture it sponsors by applying subtle pressure for that culture to support its own interests (which, of course, it does, anyway); the principle problem is that the very social relation that sponsorship establishes, whether on behalf of a corporation or the State, is lop-sided: industry and commerce as the host; art as the guest. Sponsorship is a form of neutralisation and mastery. The more benevolent it is, the less it applies its own agenda as a condition of funding, the more efficiently will the relationship set conditions on and divisions within the social world and the subjects that participate in it.

Dave Beech, Artist/writer
Yes it is damaging, but it can stil be supportive paradoxically.

Giorgio Sadotti, Artist
If art is effective, intelligent, emotive, striking and thoughtful - in other words 'good' - then it will inevitably become part of the fabric of wider culture. In which case it will be impossible to stop it existing alongside 'products' and 'corporations'. If an artist produces a work that genuinely throws up questions or challenges people, and then a corporation wants to co-opt it (for whatever reason) then the artist has more than achieved his aims. His ideas are reaching a mass audience. Isn't if better for an artwork to be featured in the Sun than in a little-attended, but oh-so-cool gallery?

Tom Sharp, :here magazine
RESOURCES -


"Serving" Britart now
"Beck's Futures" is an annual art prize held at the ICA. This show seems to have been colonised by Becks. The handouts, the posters, the invites, the private view... all geared more towards promotion and advertising of Beck's than the artists on show. It is immediately obvious that Becks see this as a equally beneficial partnership, but the heavy handed nature of their side of the bargain is difficult to ignore. The website is the most overt example of their co-option of this event. Everything about it screams Becks - the colours, the layout - even the familiar pop-up window, rather than being associated with the video on show, is entitled "Beck's pop-up space". The "topical" section entitled 'art or arse?' features an article entitled 'the art of brewing', as well as an opportunity to send in your own 'my eight year old could have done that' art piece and win some... you guessed it. It is actually quite difficult to find any reference to the artists in the Beck's futures show at all, and when you do it's a flimsy paragraph. There are magazine style portraits of all the artists, but there is not a single image of their work. It's strange that with advertising currently obsessed with using terms such as 'freedom to move' (Levis again) or 'everyone needs a place to think' (BBC4), that it is the sponsor that seems to crowd out thoughts, allowing precious little freedom to think about anything else.
Naomi Klein, in her seminal study of late 20th Century capitalism "No Logo", states the problem like this -
"...a stampede of manufacturers [are] now looking to replace their cumbersome product-production apparatus with transcendental brand names and to infuse their brands with deep, meaningful messages. By the mid-nineties, companies like Nike, Polo and Hilfiger were already taking branding to the next level: no longer simply branding their own products, but branding the outside culture as well - by sponsoring cultural events, they could go out into the world and claim bits of it as brand-name outposts. For these companies, branding was not just a matter of adding value to a product. It was about thirstily soaking up cultural ideas and iconography that their brands could reflect by projecting these ideas and images back into culture as 'extensions' of their brands."
The effect of this is an entangling of the different functions and responsibilities of the various individuals, institutions, companies, sponsors, and state funding channels involved in making a show happen. The positioning of all these things in relation to an exhibition changes the ways in which it is received. With the sponsor normally in the position of benefactor, this changes the position of the artist accordingly to that of recipient - suddenly, as in the case of Beck's Futures, the artists are the guests in Beck's exhibition. And each instance of this passive/aggressive relationship slightly changes the wider relationship of 'culture', 'business' and 'state'. This has already happened on television - every programme now has a "sponsor", or a company which sees the opportunity to have their logo hover in front of their favoured demographic's eyes for a few seconds and register positively with them. This is an even more uncomfortable arrangement when applied to an art exhibition.
It could be argued that this is a naive argument, and that the relationship between art and advertising is not only necessary, but progressive and positive in it's outcomes. And looking at it from the angle of the relatively few artists that benefit from events such as Becks Futures, it must be hard to disapprove of sponsorship. As Hillichamp spells out in the text below, art needs money. And as Dave Beech (artist and Art Monthly critic) states in his response (see the text box), it may not be the source of the money that is the problem, but the conditions in which it is given. In this case, it is the awareness of these conditions that becomes all important. Art remains art, and we view it as such, but always at the back of our minds is the discomfort at the conditions in which it is exhibited.


It's no secret that the most important things on television are the paid adverts, followed by the trailers promoting forthcoming programs, followed by the programs themselves.
It's also my opinion, and I know I'm not alone in thinking this, that adverts are the greatest artform of our age.
Art needs money. It's as simple as that. Maybe in some utopia, where the wheels of commerce no longer grind, and all the work is done by Microsoft programmed atomic robots/angels from Heaven/divvied up by egalitarian worker's co-operatives* we can all enjoy and or make art free from the taint of The Dollar, but until then we have to live in the real world. The real, unfair, random, nasty ridiculous world. Art makers have to eat, and office working art-philes like me don't have the free time to or energy to go tracking down the latest and most exciting art shows and happenings for ourselves, so it's nice for it to be brought to us. And if it's a beer brand or a bank or a Third World exploiting jeans manufacturer that has to bring it to us, okay.
The Beck's Futures competition is a great example of how corporate sponsorship and involvement can raise the profile of new art makers and contemporary art itself, getting real art makers and their wares in all the magazines and giving them money to boot - ace!
In the art world, like any market, there is no underground. Any art makers who show and sell their work are no less commercial than the animators at Disney, or the poor souls who worked on the comic book adaption of Star Wars Episode II. Does this mean art is lost? Does this mean it has no integrity? I don't believe so.
Our civilization, like it or not, is about selling, is about value-added, is about measuring and targeting demographics, tapping into the zeitgeist. It's about advertising and sales. Brand awareness, if you like. So why not commission something beautiful at the same time as promoting your brand? Why not reward creative talent, and share it with the audience the mass marketing media creates?
You may say that commercial pressure will taint the art, undermine its validity, but every art maker is constantly dealing with many conflicting constraints/demands/desires/wishes/expectations on or for their work.
Here's a quote from the brilliant (in my view) Brian Duffy (creator of the ModifiedToyOrchestra), about his experience at art college:
"...I thought to myself 'Oh my God, this is just awful' because you have to learn all these intellectual levels of veiling that means someone who doesn't understand those terms doesn't understand the paintings, and without that you can't get peer approval."
Here's a quote which really got my goat, from Meredith Etherington-Smith about the Affordable Art Fair, (from an editorial in Art Review):
"OK**, so some of the art is dreadful. But it pleases someone and the artist gets paid. I'm all for democratic art."
"I'm all for democratic art"? How incredibly patronising! In my opinion this kind of snobbery is more of a danger to art than the lure of sponsorship from desperate to be hip corporations.
I believe in the democratic ideal. I believe that the people know best what is good for them. Not in an ironic 'oh, aren't Abba' kitsch way (look at that hilariously tasteless print of Ganesh) but in an uprising against slavery way, in a deposing the Tzars (and later the Communist party), in a risking your life to fight Hitler, or Franco way. In voting for Will as the nations Pop Idol and not Gareth Gates (who I hate). And you know Rick would have won if he hadn't stepped out (or was he pushed..?).
Back in the day my man Marshall McLuhan was telling people that the mas media was the folklore of the industrial age (see The Mechanical Bride), even if he saw that as a bad thing. Well folk stories never were for the folk, but were a social construct to bind them to the status quo.
I say:
Advertising is our art. We should be proud.

*( select the appropriate option according to your pipe dream)

**(I may not know much about art, but at least I can spell "okay")

by Hillichamp