Wednesday, 13 February 2013

Oh, John Hurt. What's occuring?


John Hurt comes to the NUA Gallery for a chat on how his best thoughts are generated in the bathroom, and his first hand experience of the contemporary creative industry.
  
   As John enters the room, Emma and I are undeniably nervous, and this nervousness manifests itself in different ways. I, regretting the coffee I just drank and Emma tapping her foot restlessly on the wooden floorboards. I grin widely at John as he wanders in, he looking a bit taken aback at the manic smile I just brandished at him.
   As Hurt takes a seat at our little conference table, his face lights up at the mixed tray of biscuits placed in front of him, “oooh, choccie biccies!”
   I fumble with the Dictaphone, attaching the wind muffler to the Dictaphone with a false lustre of professionalism, “surely you don’t need that? There’s no wind.” John Hurt recommends, I burble something inaudible in response.
   Briefly John lays down the law on his preferred style of interview etiquette, he expects this to be like a casual chat or a debate, as opposed to a forty five minute long blunt question-answer firing, and me and Emma could not agree more with his wishes.
   John notices his bracelets jangling as he gesticulates expressively, and considerately removes them to stop the noise being picked up on the due recording. In fact, John is quite a snappy dresser overall. He wears a marine blue shirt, a intricately woven green scarf that hangs loosely, wrapped up in a oversized, tweed pea coat.
   The record button is gingerly switched on and I croak my first question to John, and we are first introduced to the actors careful and considered thought process, which is clearly visible on the engrained lines on his face, he answers each question slowly and deliberately, picking apart alternatives and arguments carefully.


How did becoming NUA’s provost and soon-to-be chancellor come about?

Well it came about basically because I got a letter from John Last asking me if I’d like to do that, I was naturally somewhat flattered and at the same time was rather excited by the idea because my origins were, before I became an actor, I was at art school myself in Grimsby and St Martins Art School in London. I tried to paint all through my life, but I cant really call myself a painter because I believe if you’re going to be a painter you should be painting well, all the time. I don’t paint as a hobby, I paint as meaningfully, I hope, as I act. But you need to practice. And I don’t get enough of that really. So I was intrigued by the whole idea, and I think John is a very live wire. Even though “chancellor” is just a title in a sense, I don’t have any power, but I do have the ability to make contributions and say what I think. It is something that interests me hugely, and it still remains to be seen whether I will be of any use or not!

So could you say it is a rewarding role as a former art student?

Well that again, remains to be seen. I hope it will be, and I think it will be, I am definitely encouraged by John Last. He wants comment and he wants input, and I think I could provide a certain amount of that. The driving force of the whole thing is the vice chancellor, the principal. Although on the other hand I want to listen to the students and understand them. It’s a difficult situation because all students by the nature of being students, and by being a new generation, believe that they’re right. So they’re always going to look at you antagonistically and think, “what are you trying to tell us? You’ve had your chance!” Where I think the difficulty will lie will be where people will think they can almost, transcend, being a link in the chain. That’s something you can’t transcend. Anything that is artistic, or scientific for that matter, exists as a result of it’s history. It’s prophetic, it allows a platform to the future, and therefore you are very much a link in the chain. And I hope I can avoid any kind of dictatorial behaviour, because my business is to fan the flames of the enthusiasm of the student band. I’d like to create an atmosphere of self-criticism as well, and criticism between students. I would like to see us get away from what has been prevalent in teaching nowadays, which is the notion that everyone has to be pleased. You should be able to say, as a student, “I’ve made this, I know its not good enough, I haven’t achieved what I set out to achieve” and in that knowledge you can help to shape yourself and give you well, further places to go.

So do you think constructive criticism is a good method to move yourself forward as an artist?

Well yes, a certain amount of instructed criticism is a good thing. I think that debate amongst students is a very good thing also. Topics should be fiercely debated, anything that can bring out those thoughts that one makes in the bathroom, drawing those thoughts out more and more. You sort of think, “if only I could do what I think when I’m in the bathroom” a technique to get these things out of your head, a freeing of your abilities you know, to get freedom from these inhibitions as much as possible.

Did you always create art growing up?

Yeah I think I probably crave art. Maybe due to the fact I was very much bought up without it.  I was bought up in a vicarage, well my mother was a draughtsman, but that’s a very different type of drawing, its like engineering drawing. My father was an engineer before he took the holy orders. But I can say my parents were not inclined to the visual arts at all. But I don’t think I craved art as a boy, I don’t think I understood it yet. Going to art school brought things out in me I didn’t even know existed, I learnt a lot philosophically and in terms of the business side of art. Conceptual art didn’t really exist at that time, I think its often an excuse. But sometimes it can be really fascinating, it can lead to other things, I don’t know. To me, it’s a very tricky area. I come into the art school world quite diffident about it, I’m not dictatorial about it. I cant be, its not in my nature, it’s not what I know, I don’t know enough.

Are there any modern artists you admire?

The most influential artist for me is Edvard Munch. And I don’t just mean the famous “Scream”, even some of his more “conventional” works. I do generally like and lean towards emotional paintings. But one has to be very careful that emotional, abstract paintings are not just an excuse for not drawing. I think drawing is incredibly important because it comes into everything, it certainly comes into conceptual art. It’s a very broad subject, drawing. But drawing is essentially making a mark, that could be totally unique and unlike any other mark. The thing about drawing is that you can really work at it as well, you could spend say, two terms drawing from casts of objects, and get really good at it in that amount of time. But trying to understand something that is in front of you, as a three dimensional piece, is a lifetmes work really, you may never stop.

Did you visit the Munch exhibition at the Tate Modern?

Yes, I did.

Did you like it?

Oh yes, it was wonderful. That’s what I mean about the ephemerality of fine art, you cant apply it. It is what it is. I do wonder where we are though, in the fine arts. And to be honest I don’t think the art world knows quite where it is going. It’s a big, fabulous, massive problem for you lot to work out!

We’ve seen parts of Fine Art merged into other medias, have you seen “Shame” by Steve McQueen?

Yes I have, McQueen is an interesting man too, he’s moved into film. And he’s fairly submerged in it now, especially after “Hunger”, which I feel broke some barriers and was quite brilliant in many ways. But nobody went to see it, its so expensive to make a film. And if nobody goes to see it, you would wonder if there was something you weren’t doing that is enticing people to come and see it, is it just that the audience is not ready for it? How do you lead people to see something like that? I don’t know.

Maybe its all about one person breaking a few rules, and then you have to have another filmmaker jump on the bandwagon with that, it’s like a domino effect.

Yes, and make it palletable, in a sense. That’s happened throughout history. It’s unfortunate to be the man who comes first. Fine art is a difficult road though, in fact, my son is a painter. You’ve chosen just about the most difficult thing to do. It is a sensationally rocky road, and boy, do you have to be prepared for it. We come from reasonally petit-bourgeois backgrounds, and in order to be a painter, one has to forget that and live rougher. I tell you, you are going to be without comforts when it comes to painting. And it’s something you’re going to have to accept if you want to be a Fine Artist. It’s a really tricky old road, and I wouldn’t advise anyone to go into it. I wouldn’t advise anyone, except maybe if they were really, totally, dedicated and really have a talent and know they have this talent, and if they believe they have something to say. It’s not something you toy with.

It’s often hard for undergraduate students to really know what they want to “do”, did you find the path to your true occupation in life was a rocky one?

Well, yes! I wasn’t particularly academic at school myself, and when I told my parents I wanted to be an actor, well, that was completely- well they loved the theatre. But they couldn’t perceive me as one of them. They couldn’t see me up there on stage. It just wasn’t pheasable, but then again my father was a clergyman so you cant be more odd than that! But it was expected of me to get an art degree, then proceed onto teaching, and I could paint, I made painting after painting and I really enjoyed the process of painting. But I couldn’t get it out of my head that this wasn’t quite what I wanted to do. So I made the jump, and that was quite a traumatic period of my life. We all go through those, I think.

Could you say your creativity manifested itself in a dramatic environment when you made that change from Fine Art to Dramatic Art?

Well before I got into the film industry I had to work my way up on the stage as a theatre actor, and honestly I never expected to make films, I became an actor because I wanted to act, and I thought this would always be on stage. I asked myself would I be prepared to be in repertory for the rest of my life and the answer was yes. And I think that’s kind of necessary, it’s a part of the journey, so to speak. And it was necessary for me to know that about myself as well. But things worked out better than that, I’ve been able to work on film, stage, television and radio. I find that one of the joys of being a British actor is that all of these aspects of media are available in London. And right now, I don’t think film knows what it’s doing. The part of film that is interesting me is the independent market. The studios really don’t know what they’re doing. But still, it’s not easy. But it never is.

Did you have quite a wild student life whilst you were studying art?

I didn’t have a particularly wild time at art school, I didn’t really have the money above everything else. But St. Martins did provide some of the best parties in London, well St. Martins and the Royal College [of art].

Do you have any funny or embarrassing stories?

Well I remember turning up to one party and nobody had any clothes on at all! In that kind of situation you either leave or stay and I stayed.

Was that the sixties by any chance?

Nearly, it was 1959. The fifties were drab in comparison, this country was penniless. You would only need to look at the photographs to see what people were wearing, they’d look as though they had all been to the thrift shop. Even the top boys would be in crumpled suits. And its funny because I think people today try to effect this look through their fashions, and I don’t think you really can effect that because these people were trying to look as good as they could. There was no money. Society is far better off now than it was then, but I don’t know if we’re any happier.

John looking moodily into the distance. Photo Credit to Roseanna Hanson at Dozyphoto

It’s a different kind of happiness, a secure happiness in which we feel safe. But through this security I don’t think we’re as free as we were at another point in history.

And I don’t know if we really have the right to feel that safety. We all seem to feel reasonably safe in a very unsafe period of time.

On that sort of topic, of the UK’s economy; how do you feel about the arts cuts that are meant to be enforced in the future?

Oooh that’s a very tricky one.. Well I think certain things would feel the pinch. You might not be able to have tables like this [the table we are sat at], you may have to make do with something else. Frankly I don’t think it’s going to make any difference to the creativity. Obviously one wants to get as much as you can, and there would be things you wouldn’t be able to do, you wouldn’t be able to have the chocolate biscuits [the chocolate biscuits on the table]. Thankyou very much [he takes a chocolate biscuit]. It would make a difference to the computerized side of the art world, you wouldn’t be able to provide so many shiny Macs. Well back in the day we lived in real poverty, and no one really complained about it. I want to avoid the whole “back in my day” talk [we all laugh] but that’s the way it was and you didn’t really complain about it. And there was far less money in the arts then.

So you could argue that lack of funding could encourage creativity in a way?

I think that’s arguable, yeah! We’ve got to let them think that it’s important that we stay important.

Do you think a lot of people maybe don’t take art that seriously, because it’s less academic?

No, if push comes to shove if you have a piece of paper and a pencil then you will be alright! And maybe some sort of paint? Mind you, paint is so expensive now. Then again, you can make your own paint. But now a lot of art isn’t to do with paint, paint is a bit of an odd commodity in some people’s minds isn’t it? And naturally, with the advent of the electronic world, that’s really going to change things. I mean, photography changed things like crazy at one stage. But um- electronics have changed things hugely. And presumably will continue to do so. I don’t know what the future of paint is!

As our uni used to be Norwich School of Painting, we have a lot of painters here. Theres a whole floor of them in fact.

Really? I wouldn’t have thought so from the last exhibition, I thought Fine Art was the least well represented. And oddly enough I thought Film was rather poor. Animation was interesting, but you would expect that from an arts school. But Film I thought was- by no means, on top or ahead of it. I thought- hello. We could help here a bit! [he pauses] What do you think about paint? Do you think its like, an illuminated Print? Its had it’s day?

I don’t know I think the boundaries between practices are blurring quite a bit. So people are putting sculpture with paint as a finished outcome. A lot of people seem to be heading into installation as well.

And you have to go to a gallery to experience it. You exactly experience these pieces at home. I don’t know where it goes- and I don’t know what it does to me either. It doesn’t do anything emotional to me. And rarely, does anything intellectual to me. I always get a feeling it does more for the artist than for the people. I thought the more practical sides to art really paid off and shone at the university exhibition, I thought graphics was really strong. And photography too. Everything which was applied, was strong. But certainly, to be a fine artist now, you have to create something really truly staggering.

And I think people find it hard to create something that hasn’t been made before..

I find shock art often tries to do that. And I find shock art a bit of a yawn. In order to shock someone I think the piece has to be interesting. To be outraged, I think it’s got to have something behind it. The surrealists were based on shocking people, Dada was based on shocking people. Really its just a continuation of it, to an extent.

Who’s influenced you, creatively? Whether that be through Fine Art or in Film?

Well Fine Art; Edvard Munch, absolutely. In Film, François Truffaut, he was a big influence early on, films like “Tirez Sur Le Pianiste”. American films, Alec Guinness influenced me- do you know who Alec Guinness is?

No…

Oh- Almighty.. “We come and we go” as Beckett says.. Alec Guinness was a major actor, he did many of the “Ealing Comedies”?


Well you’d only really see them on television now. Um- things like, “Lavender Hill Mob”, “The Ladykillers”.

I’ve heard of “The Ladykillers”.

Hmm yes, The original one. Guinness was a big influence on me, and actors like Paul Schofield. They definitely “influenced” me. In the way you take a bit of someone elses essence and it helps shape you into who you are. There’s lots of people I admire, but that’s a different thing.

What film do you have the fondest memories of working on?

Well actually again, I don’t put one film in competition with another, but I have done lots of films that I have very specific memories and feelings of the making of it and indeed, the result. They’re all so different I wouldn’t like to compare them, there was “The Naked Civil Servant” and I loved making that, “Midnight Express” I loved making. Some were comparatively difficult, “The Elephant Man” was very difficult, a long, long, making. You need to see it, uninterrupted, beginning to end. That’s the probably with viewing something, its hard getting everyone to sit down and concentrate, you’ve got to watch something, uninterrupted, no getting up to make a cup of tea halfway through, it’s not a football match. So in a way, I think the way to see something, is in the cinema.

[Emma]…Do you reckon we could convince the film society to put the elephant man on one evening?
[Caitlin] oh yeah!

The interview wrapped up soon after this, after one last question on what John had been working on recently, to which he informed us that he had been in America treading the boards in a Samuel Beckett play, “Krapp’s Last Tape”. The way Hurt talks about theatre is a remarkable thing to watch, he buzzes excitedly about the times he has starred in the play previously, and clearly he hasn’t tired of it each time. His enthusiasm for his craft is noteworthy, the stage is his true occupation in life. He has shown us that it isn’t easy to find your vocation, but once you have it you don’t look back.

Taaa John! Photo credit to Roseanna Hanson at Dozyphoto


Thursday, 27 September 2012

New playlist that I drew come seeeee



NEW PLAYLIST NEW PLAYLIST
Based on my post-summer memories of lovely times with my friends and focusing on the whole Coming of Age film (and just life in general) genre. Especially in light of my pending 21st birthday! 21 songs for my 21 years brooooo. The songs all feature on some of my favey teens-learning-life-lessons films such as Adventureland, Flashbacks of a Fool, Juno, The Runaways, the Perks of being a Wallflower, Almost Famous, the Breakfast Club and even Marie Antoinette. 

Tuesday, 25 September 2012

Window Reflections and Introspections in Cinema


It’s a well known fact that watching the same films over and over you can tend to spot small details you never noticed before. A cinematic motif was inspected and approved by yours truly the other day when watching “Lost in Translation” for approximately the fourth time. Characters in films, enjoy staring out of windows. Staring, and thinking. Thinking about something that has usually just impacted their life in a profound, or sometimes a somewhat mundane way



This is the second Sofia Coppola film I’ve seen in which there is a long shot of a main character staring wistfully out of a moving vehicle’s window. If I was a director and I had to have a trademark and Sofia hadn’t already got dibs on this trademark I would have it as my own.



The above  photo is a cheeky screen cap of one of my all time favourite scenes in cinema ever, the feeling of having just met someone that you really fancy and you dream about him whilst, funnily enough, gazing out of a car window.
So once I observed this wistful cinematographic procedure I could not help but notice it everywhere and all the time and stare at it bewildered, like noticing a friends yellowhead on his/her chin.





 That time of introspection in a moving vehicle, is the sweetest. It makes me love long car journeys. It makes me love this time to do nothing and just be with my thoughts, its one of the only times I can truly relax. When I was a baby when I had trouble sleeping my dad would take me on a long car journey to get me to sleep, and it always worked. I like to think it still holds the same effect on me. I don’t know if its personal, my relationship and reverence to the “staring out the car window wistfully” shot. But I can say that maybe someone else, i.e. the directors of the above films, feels the same. Maybe it’s a crucial part of the human conditions connection with the car.

Friday, 8 June 2012

Drawn to Drawing


I was just thinking, when someone asks me about watching shows like Sister Sister or Boy Meets World, or even Saved by the Bell, I can never recall watching them during the 90s. I remember going through a almost childhood long phase where I just simply couldn’t be bothered with live action television shows. They bored me. I preferred the bright colours of a cartoon, Hey Arnold, Rugrats, Recess. And especially, my still-favourite- As Told By Ginger. I don’t know if it was the colours or the way the characters darted so freely around the screen, literally drawn from imagination alone. But it was probably the way they were drawn that got me, I figured out that I could make these shows myself, with just a pen and paper! All the stories in my head could become real, so I began to fill up sketchbooks with stories and illustrations, comic strips and story boards.
This was where my craft began. Where an anxious, highly imaginative young girl’s stories left her head and fabricated in front of her. All through some drawing.

Monday, 19 March 2012

Rematerialization: The coexistence of Concept and Craft

   In 1973 Lucy. R. Lippard wrote that art from 1966 to 1972 went through a highly transitory phase. That aesthetics in art were on their way out, dissipating into the void of art history as we know it, and that conceptual art was bounding in in it’s wake. A de-emphasis on material aspects: so sculptural, structural formations were out, and photography, text, performance and ideas were in. In this time period of six years, Lippard suggests that artists rejected the craft of art and the creation of objects themselves seeking instead something more fundamental. Ms. Lippard calls this "resonance". Though "conceptual art" has long since passed by, the analysis in this book is still current and applies more than ever in our "post-modernist" period.
   I, as an artist who has found a recent reverence for process and materials in my own practice, could not ignore this huge theme in the art world: Craft Vs. Concept. I have always been an artist who thinks the two should coincide. I shun Duchamp, ignore Sol LeWitt. Art should be like a human face, it should express what is going on underneath on the surface. So this essay is about what I call, rematerialization. I want to focus on the aesthetic side using process art and arte povera as an example, looking at the materials that are applied and the means and consequences provided by nature’s elements, and I plan to reach for the pragmatic meanings and ideas underneath too. This is rematerialization: my appreciation of aesthetics, materials and process.
   I have chosen to examine Process Art because it is highly relevant to my current practice, one that included artists such as Eva Hesse and Robert Morris. I also aim to dip into the Arte Povera movement, but Process Art is my main area of interest. So in short, this is how this essay will proceed:
1)  Materials. The building blocks that make up the aesthetic.
2)  The elements vs. these materials. What role does nature play?
3)  Subject. The pragmatics behind the aesthetics.

“Process artists were involved in issues attendant to the body, random occurrences, improvisation, and the liberating qualities of nontraditional materials such as wax, felt, and latex. Using these, they created eccentric forms in erratic or irregular arrangements produced by actions such as cutting, hanging, and dropping, or organic processes such as growth, condensation, freezing, or decomposition.” (Guggenheim Museum, 2012: http://www.guggenheimcollection.org)

    So far in my research I have noticed one word that has been used frequently to describe the nature of the materials used by the process artists; “Industrial”. A personification of this and a forefronter in Process Art would be Robert Morris. Morris used an array of materials in this category, from rubber, steel, plywood and industrial felts to unmanageable materials like dirt, thread and steam.  Morris’ late 1960s felt works are particularly relevant, and portray a pivotal transmutation between minimalism and Process Art. 
Robert Morris. Untitled. 1967-8.
   Interestingly enough, it has been suggested that these materials may be echoes of scenes from his childhood, one being of him playing in heaps of fabric at a family friend’s house or a “malevolent black mound of coal” (R.Morris, 2008: “Interview: Robert Morris”, www.tate.org.uk) in the family garden. “Early childhood experiences have always been central to my art making.” (R.Morris, 2008: “Interview: Robert Morris”, www.tate.org.uk) This further supports my idea that aesthetics and concept can coexist. Even when the artist tries to block the concept out through pure creativity and the “art relating to nothing but art”(Lucy Lippard, 1973: 7) perspective, the artist’s subconscious leaks through. Even in the disguise a childhood memory. In fact, Morris was an ambassador for Process Art in the late 1960s, expressing the importance of serendipitous natural factors that can effect “Process”:

“Sometimes a direct manipulation of a given material without the use of any tool is made. In these cases considerations of gravity becomes as important as those of space. The focus on matter and gravity as means results in forms which were not projected in advance. Considerations of ordering are necessarily casual and imprecise and unemphasized. Random piling, loose stacking, hanging, give passing form to the material.” (Morris, Robert in Lippard, Lucy, pages.45-46)

   What I have noticed about Process Art is that there is a massive element of serendipity, paint drips (ref. To “Splashing, 1968” by Richard Serra), tendrils fall down and hang, colours change over time. The name was given to this movement as there was more of a focus on the formation of a piece, as opposed to the end product, the objet d’art. Incidentally, this is all down to mother nature. The elemental side of these works are absolutely crucial. Whether it be something very organic like mould, or something more physics-focused like space or gravity, elemental constituency is ever present in Process Art. 
  This is what I love about process art, a piece is almost alive, it changes and develops over time. I have integrated this fascination of ephemerality into my own work, by covering my pieces in bread dough in order for them to mould, pickling decomposing food in jars and even creating my own crystals out of sugar.
    Yes the process artists often left their work to the forces of nature, Hesse with her latex creations that moulded and collapsed over time, Penone with his tree-orientated sculptures, but this serendipity was planned, a paradox in itself. 
   Giuseppe Penone’s work is reknowned for having a deep connection to the natural world, a relationship between tree and the human figure. There was a massive regard to elemental constituency in Penone’s portfolio of sculptures, his Continuerà a crescere tranne che in quel punto ("It Will Continue to Grow Except at that Point") consisted of a steel cast of his hand in a tree trunk, causing the tree to poetically and bulbously grow around the hand. He often uses the shape and form of a tree to his advantage, carving tree trunks to imitate the human body in appearance. Man made versus the organic, another theme that pops up in my current practice.
Sugar Crystals made by myself
My studio space.

   So the elements add some serendipity to a finished process piece, but does this serendipity necessarily mean there is no concept or idea to the work?
   Eva Hesse considered gravity and space a major influence on her pieces, we can see this especially in “Untitled” (1970), my personal favourite Hesse, in which the rope tendrils loop, hang, drip and protrude, suggesting the bodily. I only recently found out that Eva made this piece when she was dying, I perceive a lot of death, sadness and rawness in this piece. Purely through its shape, and use of soft, visceral materials. It has been suggested that Eva Hesse was part of the minimalist movement, but I disagree, you look at this sculpture and you see too much of the artist in it. Lucy Lippard, incidentally a close friend of Hesse, described her work contradictorily as: “both strong and vulnerable, tentative and expansive” (L, Lippard. 1976: 6). So how can we say Hesse’s works don’t mean anything? Funnily enough, she often aimed for this:
"I wanted to get to nonart, nonconnotive, nonanthropomorphic, nongeometric, non, nothing, everything, but of another kind, vision, sort, from a total other reference point, is it possible?" (Eva Hesse in Grace Gleuck: 2006, www.nytimes.com)
   Yet I do not see this, I think her art is too emotionally loaded, and you can see this through the aesthetic. This is why I chose to study Hesse for this essay, I see an aesthetic and a concept coexisting in her work. She often suggested that her life could subconsciously slip into her work as subject matter:
“My art and life have not been separated. They have been together.”(Eva Hesse in Lucy Lippard. 1976:5)
Eva Hesse's "Untitled", 1970, in collection of the Whitney Museum

Rosalind Krauss expresses my above sentiments in her article on Eva Hesse, describing her as:
‘formalist dialogue of the 1960s with the message of expressionism … ‘manifested through the experience of matter itself.’

   All in all, this essay has showed to me that I do have the resources and research techniques to find artists that I appreciate and are relevant to my work. And that there are artists out there in the past and present that have concept and material coexisting in their work, I just have to use the thorough research methods I have gained through writing this essay, in order to find them. Rematerialization is feasible, the current art world is not dominated by minimalistic conceptualists, and we can see this in artists work today. 


"Shooting into the Corner", Anish Kapoor, 2008-09

"Keffieh," by Mona Hatoum, (1993-99), human hair on cotton, 1993-1999, collection Peter Norton, Santa Monica. A re-creation of the traditional headscarf or "Keffieh" worn by Arab men that interweaves strands of women's hair.

Saturday, 17 December 2011

New motives at twenty.

   I just took a moment to look at the title of my blog: “This is my blog and my brain”. And Ive realised that I have made a mistake in the current content of this ol’ blog o’ mine. It’s all too- formal. My previous posts are article formatted, my voice is there, but not 100%. Strangely stiff, like an awkward best man making his speech nervously at a wedding, pushing jokes out uncomfortably.
   All of you who read this blog and know me personally know that I like to think. I probably think too much, the nerve synapses in my brain are working overtime pushing those electrochemical signals about. Im surprised my brain hasn’t gone on strike yet. Otherwise, known as a stroke (ba dumm tssshhh).  Thoughts zip around this noodle like many metal balls in a particularly mad and colourful pinball machine. My brain even tries to think when I’m asleep, hence my vivid dream-filled nights.
   So this is why I came to this decision. This blog is about to become personalized. I plan to write more on my general musings, as well as the usual reviews and articles. This entails the introduction of more rants and raves. Articulate rants of course, a far cry from the embarrassing “y is lyf soo harddd?!!!1111 2k12” facebook-esque whingings. I also aim to stick more of my poetry on here as well.
  
   The original plan was for this blog to be like a portfolio, professional, witty and perfect. But it was inevitably going to revert back to me and my thoughts. This is my blog, and my brain.

Thursday, 3 November 2011

Frieze Fair is like the Ideal Home Exhibition.. Except connoisseurs buy large scale installations instead of Shiatsu Massager chairs.

   With a thick head and profusely runny nose (bad cold at the time)I was swept into the meat market that is Frieze Art Fair. With Fine Art pieces filling every physical space in the large white tents, the experience was somewhat overwhelming. There is only so much scrutinizing of contemporary art from all over the globe you can really partake in in one day, without your brain deteriorating into a mushy peas consistency.
   Funnily enough, the more “well known” artist’s works seemed to catch my eye the most (i.e. Mark Quinn’s “Shell Sculpture” and Cornelia Parker’s “30 pieces of silver with reflection”). Which made me think, did I like their work because they are renowned? Or the opposite, are they renowned because their work displayed ultimate aesthetical and conceptual finesse? Cornelia Parker was mainly located in the Frith Street Gallery section, an area I would recommend, a fulfilling and intriguing selection of works, including Tacita Dean’s, laid out and curated effectively, Cornelia’s silverware levitating spectrally in the centre of the enclosure, creating a flow of visitors around the perimeter of the installation.

Cornelia Parker "30 Pieces of Silver with Reflection", 15 pairs of silver plated objects with squashed "reflection" 

  Overall, it was interesting seeing the contrasting and differing interests and styles in each country the galleries originated from. The Americans, East Coast particularly, take a fancy to Japanese artists who take inspiration from cartoons . NY’s work was colourful, playful, grabbing inspiration from pop culture (reminiscent of the Warhol days) and apparently, childhood. Meanwhile in Europe, Spain’s styles seem so far away from the US’ and England’s, who’s correspondence in art styles is still going strong. Spain’s work seems almost quite traditional, or even commercial. I decided this when viewing Spain’s Galeria Helga De Alvear. Japan’s pieces contained massive elements of traditional motifs from the past and history of the country.

 Marc Quinn, "Shell Sculpture", 2011

   One thing that struck me about Frieze was its wonderful potential for great people watching. One particularly interesting Bob Dylan-esque bloke ambled around dressed head to toe in purple, a large green feather placed in his hat. Maybe I was so prone to desperately people watching at Frieze due to Frieze Fair’s general lack of humanness in the work portrayed. The work for me that really impressed me and really struck an emotional chord was Nan Goldin’s “Cookie Meuller (March 2 1949- November 10 1989)”. It was found on one of the outside walls of the Matthew Marks Gallery area, and it was one of the only pieces at Frieze that people seemed to really stop and look at. A small crowd congregated around the wallful of framed photographs, I slowly edged myself to the front so I could see what everyone was so engrossed in. The frame on the far left of all the other framed photographs was different. It had a written extract in, a short summary of the artist’s 13 year relationship with Cookie Meuller, a woman you could probably call Goldin’s muse, who died aged forty of an AIDs related illness. Goldin had documented their entire relationship, thinking that if he “couldn’t lose her if he photographed her enough”. These A4 cibachrome prints were simple yet effective, snaps of Cookie singing, playing with her son and dog, getting married, drinking sat at the kitchen table. I was drawn, you could really feel the closeness between artist and subject. It was beautiful, personal, sensitive, an entire life on one wall. I don’t know whether I loved this piece because of the emotion in it, or the medium of photography as a technique to record a life, or even the fact this piece had a summary next to it (something I found lacking at Frieze, there were never any descriptions next to a piece so I often felt lost to what the work actually meant), but to me personally, it was a successful work.

Nan Goldin's Cookie Meuller prints viewed sideways on. Curious visitors are reflected on the photo frames.

   Yes, there was a slight presence of creativity at Frieze Art Fair, but I do think there was room for more. But understandably, Frieze fair is an event for Art and Business. Dealers and artists trawl the white tents for the next big thing in the Art world. After all, Art is rather like fashion, trends come and go. And the greats remain timeless. Notable rising stars include Tacita Dean (who has hit her big break in the form of the Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall), and Martin Creed. Who’s work is soooooo hot right now. You couldn’t swing a cat without bumping into one of his canvas painted with beams of bold acrylic.
   If I wanted to review my experience with a negative perspective, I would agree wholeheartedly with this quote: Frieze is an overlit, overpeopled, overheated carnival of excess that has given me a couple of new images to mull over. I hold them close, to calm me down, and leave before my migraine kicks in” (Miranda Sawyer, “Frieze2011- review”, www.guardian.co.uk) . But Frieze Fair was an entirely new experience for me and I remain grateful. Even if I had lost my will to live by the time I had reached the last gallery space.