Sunday 30 March 2014

Cop Out, Take 2


I thought it might be helpful if I set down my thoughts about this Context of Practice course.  

I’ll start with the positives!

This course has encouraged me to spend quite a bit of time studying my own context of my practice, which in itself is quite an achievement! 

I used to be quite anti- studying other people’s art on the grounds that I would end up being influenced by it.  I thought it might dilute my creativity – stop me thinking outside the box and coming up with genuinely new ideas.  I was worried that I would end up merely responding to what had gone before me – extrapolating rather than innovating.

I think I’ve learned that looking at other people’s art actually triggers ideas.  I’ve also learned that it pays to discuss ideas with lecturers early on.   They often have comments and advice that leads to further cycles of creativity.  They often point you at artists that you can learn from.

In general this has meant that I’ve followed the spirit rather than the letter of this Context of Practice course.

Only some of my posts respond to Mary’s lectures, and quite often the responses are tangential –  I use the lecture or Mary’s comments as a spring board to dive into a topic that wasn’t really on the agenda.

A lot of my posts also have no direct link to the course.  For instance, I’ve done a fair bit of research into top contemporary UK sculptors, having been shamed into realising that I didn’t even know who they were, let alone what their work was like!

I’m conscious that a lot of this course has looked back at social developments and how they have influenced artists and art over the past few centuries.  I haven’t felt the need to comment on those social developments in my posts but I have been researching the topic.

In particular. I’ve now read most of  “The Story of Art” by E.H. Gombrich.  Gombrich does a great job of examining not only the context of practice of artists since ancient Egyptian times but also how that is reflected in the works of master artists through the ages. 

I started reading this book for three reasons :
  •        My way of researching the issues raised by the lectures on our course. 
  •       Antony Gormley said the book inspired him to become an artist
  •        Gombrich introduces the book by acknowledging that a lot of commentary is hard to understand and that he will write in simple English, which he does!

Intellectual Scaffold
This brings me on to an aspect of this course that I’ve struggled with – the way in which a lot of people – artists, critics, theorists - write about the philosophy behind art. 

I began by being resistant to this on two counts:  First, I thought a lot of philosophy was pointless musing  and second, I have a real problem with people that don’t write in plain English. The fact that some of these folk deliberately write in way to confuse readers really annoys me.

Early on I read and hated John Berger's "Ways of Seeing".

However, this course, coupled with…
  •        Reading books about Edmund de Waal, Antony Gormley and Richard Deacon
  •        Listening to the Reith Lectures by Grayson Perry
  •        Watching videos by Banksy and Grayson Perry
  •        Going to talks by Michael Petry and others
  •        Talking to lecturers
  •    Visiting quite a few exhibitions
… has led to me acknowledging the need for “an intellectual scaffold” for my work, as John Grayson called it, in one of his talks. 

 Or putting it in my words, I want my work to do more than just look nice; I want it to guide viewers’ thoughts into deeper, subtler, abstract issues. 

As Petry said in his talk – he wants the beauty of what he’s created to draw people into looking so that he can deliver a philosophical sort of message for them to ponder over.

Three quotes
There’s three quotes in my posts that stand out, in my opinion:

1)  Our lecturer Mary saying: “The purpose of knowledge is to act on it,” in the (disappointing)  Mini-Making Futures conference.  

In my post, I asked (rhetorically) how I should be acting on the knowledge I was acquiring from the lectures Mary was giving.  I was thinking of the lectures on social history in particular (and feeling a bit guilty that I wasn't acting on them). 


“This book is the final ludicrous monument to an intellectual corruption that has filled contemporary museums and the culture they sustain with a hollow and boring, impersonal chatter. Art has been lost in a labyrinth of theory.”

I was much relieved to read this.  Beforehand I’d begun to think that I was the problem – I just didn’t have the brain power to understand art theorists.


"Few people in contemporary art demonstrate much curiosity.  The majority spend their days blathering on, rather than trying to work out why one artist is more interesting than another, or why one picture works and another doesn't."

This was quite a surprise to me.  I’d assumed that Saatchi must be the Godfather of the contemporary art world, but apparently not.

I think it vindicates what I’ve been doing in this blog most of the time – ignoring or pouring scorn on theorists that “blather on” and instead researching the leading artists in my field (sculpture), trying to understand their motivations and appreciate their work.

 Special
I've persevered and  made some progress on understanding Edmund de Waal,  Antony Gormley and Richard Deacon but I'm totally foxed by some of the conceptual stuff, like Martin Creed's sheet of A4 paper screwed into a ball.  

 I was hoping that this course would help me in this regard.  I've been to quite a few exhibitions and written about them in this blog.  But it hasn't really helped.  

Another case of me lacking the brain power to appreciate contemporary art?   

In his "Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman" programme on BBC Grayson Perry says art ought to be "special", something you look at in wonder.   A  lot of stuff isn't, says Perry.  In fact "the only thing that qualifies it as art is that it's in an art gallery."

Hoorah for Grayson Perry!

Friday 28 March 2014

Grayson Perry

I've just watched "Grayson Perry and the Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman."

Good fun and as usual, Perry has some thoughtful comments.  

After going around Martin Creed's "What's the point of it" exhibition last Friday, this quote about a lot of contemporary art particularly appeals to me:

"The only thing that qualifies it as art is that it's in an art gallery".  


Thursday 27 March 2014

A Cop Out

The title is a pun!

Below are links to posts that relate to lectures given in my Context of Practice (Cop) Course:

Archiving and Conservation

Craft vs Design

Craft vs Art

Craftivism
None.  Not my cup of tea.

Responding to Walter Benjamin, Take 2

Responding to Walter Benjamin, Take 1

Art Theorists, Take 2

Art Theorists, Take 1

Taste and Class

Museums, Galleries



Utopia

Art Manifesto

A Modernist Object

Formal and Content Analysis

Visual Culture

Defining Craft


Tuesday 25 March 2014

Charles Saatchi

I've changed my mind about Charles Saatchi (see "One Total Tosser").  

He may not be the nicest person in the world but he's interesting, he's not a bullshitter and he gets a lot done.


My change of mind is based on a bit of research, reading some of the essays in Saatchi's book, Babble, and visiting the Saatchi Gallery.

Bit of research
It's easy to find out about some of Saatchi's achievements in the art world, notably encouraging Young British Artists, identifying and supporting rising stars, notably Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin,  and founding the Saatchi Gallery.  But it's quite hard to get an idea of what Saatchi is like as a person because he's somewhat of a recluse.   

Yes, okay.  He doesn't come out of his marriage break-up with Nigella Lawson smelling of roses but I don't know the full facts, it's none of my business and he wouldn't be the only person to be a big achiever at the same time as being a brute in his dealings with people around him.  


I'm thinking of Apple founder Steve Jobs.

So what do I know about Saatchi, the person?

Well, he's yet another example of someone from a wealthy Jewish family fleeing to England and becoming a big name in the art world.  Charles was born in Baghdad 1943 and his family moved to London in 1947.  
By the way,  we have to do an essay in the next year of our Context of Practice course and I've thought about focusing it on how (and why) so many famous people in the art world have a similar background - i.e., wealthy Jewish.   Would it make me sound racist?
Anyhow, Saatchi became obsessed with US pop culture while at school, when he was already a big collector of cigarette cards, juke boxes,  comics and nudist magazines, according to his Wikipedia entry.  It cites Saatchi describing his experience of viewing a Jackson Pollock painting as "life changing".

To cut a long story short, he started off buying some US minimalist stuff and then decided to focus on young British artists, which turned into a sort of mini-movement.  He bought a warehouse in London to show his collection to the public and eventually, this became the Saatchi Gallery off Kings Road in Chelsea, or more correctly, The Museum of Contemporary Art for London,  owned by the UK public, which I visited last Saturday.  

 Saatchi Gallery

No entry fee!  

On the previous day, I'd paid £8.60 (OAP rate) to see Richard Deacon at Tate Britain and £9 (OAP rate) to see Martin Creed at the Hayward Gallery - and in both cases, I thought it was quite expensive for what was on show (particularly Creed's A4 sheet of paper,  screwed into a ball). 

In his book, Babble, Saatchi has a rant about ostensibly free galleries charging these sort of prices to see exhibitions within them.  He thinks they should follow his example at the Saatchi Gallery - have everything free, have long opening hours, get lots more visitors and make their money from merchandise.   

I totally agree with him, although I have reservations about "lots more visitors" because I don't like being swept along by crowds in galleries.   I like to take my time looking at stuff and not have other people obstructing my view - see my previous post: "My thoughts on art galleries and museums".

Anyhow, the Saatchi Gallery is big, and perhaps that's why it wasn't crowded when I visited.  There were a few "stack of wood" type exhibits but there's was a lot of stuff I liked. 

 Another plus for the Saatchi Gallery: They allow you to take photos!



Michael Cline above.  Can't recall the title but all of his paintings are (a) incredibly well painted and (b) leave you wondering what's going on.




Makiko Kudo above.  Figures floating through lush colours.




The basement, above, is filled with used engine oil


Babble, one of Saatchi's books

It's a collection of essays which makes it an easy read - you can pick out the topics that interest you and each one is only a few pages long.  I wondered whether they were reprints of the column Saatchi writes for London's Evening Standard - don't know the answer to that one!

I've already mentioned his rant about galleries charging entry fees, which is entitled "Are museums fooling the public or themselves?".

In another essay, "The hideousness of the art world", Saatchi pours scorn on the super rich that have pumped up the price of art, or more precisely the big names in art, without any appreciation of the art itself.  

It starts: "Being an art buyer these days is comprehensively and indisputably vulgar.  It is the sport of the Eurotrashy, Hedge-fundy, Hamptonites; of trendy oligarchs and oiligarchs; and of art dealers with masturbatory levels of self-confidence."

Previously, I would have counted Saatchi as not just one of this crowd but the God Father of the whole shebang.  Everybody else follows in his wake - the work of whatever artist he adopts ends up rocketing in value, delivering huge profits for him.

In Babble, Saatchi says he hasn't got wealthy on the back of this: he ploughs back whatever he makes on art sales into buying more art from emerging artists, and he helps them get established by showing his collection in the Saatchi Gallery.

I love this quote:
"Few people in contemporary art demonstrate much curiosity.  The majority spend their days blathering on, rather than trying to work out why one artist is more interesting than another, or why one picture works and another doesn't."
Saatchi says a lot of the super-rich art collectors don't even bother looking at what they're buying.  They buy based on the name.  They wouldn't be able to tell the difference between "a good Picasso from a weak Picasso, or a powerful Hirst from a lazy one".

Now for a terrible admission:  neither would I.  The question that's been bugging me all along is whether this is something instinctive that you're born with (as appears to be the case with Saatchi) or is this something that I can learn  (...from this course?).

On the other hand, maybe I should be true to myself.  There's some art I really love and there's some that does nothing for me.  It just so happens that a lot of the big names fall into the second category when it comes to contemporary art.  

I've often thought that learning how to appreciate a great wine might spoil my enjoyment of the ordinary stuff.  Maybe the same applies to art?



Monday 24 March 2014

Martin Creed, Take 2

As I rather suspected, the title of Martin Creed's exhibition - "What's the point of it?" - sums up my feelings after visiting it.

My earlier post on this topic covers some of the more interesting stuff.  I liked:

  • The giant beam with "Mother" in neon on it, rotating at a height of 2 metres, so that you can feel the draught as it passes overhead. I think I got the message about the influence exerted by mothers.
  • The "half the air in a given space" exhibit - a room full of white balloons. It was fun, it reminded me of those rooms full of balls that kids play in at Ikea but I didn't understand the point of it and I'm sure the amount of human hair stuck to some of the balloons might have irked some people.
  • The farting sound, because I'm juvenile.
That's about it.  

I was puzzled by a lot of the exhibits:
  • An A4 sheet of paper screwed up into a ball
  • Stacks of old cardboard boxes, descending in size
  • Similar stacks of wood - just standard lengths as you'd buy from a wood yard
  • A door that opens and closes
And so on.

Overall, I can't help wondering how people like Creed make a living.  


Friday 21 March 2014

Richard Deacon, Take 2

My wife and I have just got back from an arty day in London, visiting Tate Britain and the Hayward Gallery in the South Bank Centre.

Ostensibly, the Tate Britain visit was to see Richard Deacon's retrospective - following on from my previous post on him.

While we were at Tate Britain we also saw works by other sculptors I've written about in this blog, namely Tony Crag and Bill Woodrow.

In addition, we looked at work by Jacob Epstein, Henry Moore, Barbara Hepworth and (Sir) Anthony Caro, and I came away thinking I should research all of these sculptors when I have time.  My "little list" is beginning to grow!

The South Bank visit was to see the Martin Creed's exhibition, "What's The Point of It?", which I've also written about in a previous post.

Anyhow, that's the context.  Now some thoughts about the retrospective of...

Richard Deacon

I really like the way a lot of his sculptures twist and turn and look rhythmic but the thing that struck me most about a lot of them was their finish - or rather, their lack of finish.

The laminated wood structures ooze glue and no attempt has been made to smooth the edges of the layers to create a single surface, let alone polish the (absent) surface.  I have to admit that smoothing and polishing stuff is not something I enjoy but it's never occurred to me to not bother!

Likewise, Deacon's sheet metal structures are held together with ugly brackets and lots of self-tapping screws.  Granted, the screws are laid out in strict formation but pop rivets would have looked a lot tidier - no ugly screw points sticking out.

I would have preferred the finish to be smooth and polished.  I think it would have enhanced the beauty of the sculptures.  But I've begun to understand Deacon's logic after reading some of the book  about him (by Clarrie Wallis) that accompanies the exhibition.

A lot of Deacon's work is responding to poetry - namely "Sonnets to Opheus" by "one of the most lyrically intense German-language poets" Austrian Rainer Maria Rilke, according to the relevant Wikipedia entry.  Apparently, Rilke uses basic words but weaves them together to create a cycle of 55 sonnets that are highly lyrical, philosophical and mystical.

Deacon says he's translating this into sculpture by taking every day materials like hardboard, glue,  screws and galvanised sheet metal and combining them to create his swooping and diving shapes.  He wants the basic nature of the materials to be evident in the same way that the basic nature of Rilke's words are evident.

Deacon is another sculptor (like Antony Gormley)  that plays around with boundaries - the interface between dualities like:

  • Interior and exterior
  • Surface and edge
  • Form and image (3D and 2D???)
  • Visible and hidden
  • Real and imagined


According to Wallis' book, Deacon deliberately choses titles for his sculptures to encourage a "metaphorical reading" of his work along these lines.  Actually, he reminds me of Gormley in that there's a lot of references to orifices between the inside and outside of  bodies - mouths, eyes, ears and so on.

Maybe if I read some more of the book I'll understand this better!

Last point (for the moment):

At what is supposedly a pivotal moment in Deacon's career he produced a set of nine drawings that have some similarities to his rhythmic sculptures.  Five of them were on show at the exhibition.

Apparently he's never liked drawing sculptures before making them and these drawings do the reverse - they are a response to his early sculptures.   They were made "under constraint" for want of a better word.  He took an outline of a previous sculpture,  anchored a piece of string to it, tied the string to a pencil and drew an arc, and so on, until a rhythmic 2D shape emerged, which he then made stronger in various ways.

 These drawings appear to be very important to Deacon.  They mapped out his future direction. In Wallis' book, Deacon says he "knew they were good."

To me, they look like the product of a rather unsuccessful attempt at playing with a Spirograph.  They don't do anything for me.



Wednesday 19 March 2014

Tony Cragg

Cragg is a contemporary of some of the other artists I've mentioned in previous posts, notably Richard Deacon (I'm going to see his Tate retrospective this Friday),  and Bill Woodrow.

According to Cragg's Wikipedia entry, he was also buddies with Richard Long, a "sculptor" that is remembered (by some) for making a long line in a field by walking to and fro (a lot) and Roger Ackling, who spends much of his time using the sun and a magnifying glass to make burn marks on pieces of wood (get the picture?).  Long and Ackling have worked together on some projects in the past.

Cragg is another sculptor that started off making stuff from found scrap (like Bill Woodrow and Richard Wentworth).   Since then he's moved on and now seems to work mainly in bronze.  See his Tate entry.    He's lived in Wuppertal, Germany, for 30 to 40 years and has created a sculpture park there.

I would like to see his sculptures in real life before passing judgement on him (not that my judgement counts for anything!).   I like the look of some of his bronze stuff on his website.

Wednesday 12 March 2014

Mark Miodownik

Great discussion with Mark Miodownik on Radio 4 yesterday:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b03xdmz8


 Miodownik is a "British materials scientist, engineer, broadcaster and writer at University College London" and has formed close ties with artists.  More about him on his Wikipedia entry.

Miodownik says:
  • Making things is as important as other sorts of expression such as writing
  • Materials address senses such as touch
  • Public libraries ought to be turned into public workshops a.k.a. hack spaces
UPDATE:  I ended up exchanging emails with Miodownik.  He helped me find alternative materials to glass for my hospital project.  Didn't go down that route in the end but the dialogue led me on to a really interesting glass artist, Matt Durran, who makes glass moulds for growing replacement body parts.

Friday 7 March 2014

One Total Tosser


In her "Archiving and Conservation" presentation on 27th Feb, Mary (our Context of Practice lecturer) managed to identify three people that sounded to me like total tossers.

Rather than rush to judgement, however, I've done a little research.  My three candidates were (drum roll):

Damien Hirst

I didn't know much about Hirst, apart from his predilection for putting dead animals (sharks, sheep etc) in glass tanks of formaldehyde.

Mary showed his shelves of pills, which, I suppose, does get you thinking about journeys through life (for a few minutes).

It sounds as though Hirst's early "career" owes a lot to Charles Saatchi (yellow card), with whom he eventually fell out.

Hirst's Wikipedia entry says he's the wealthiest living British artist with a net worth of £215 million according to the 2010 Sunday Times rich list (another yellow card).

The Wikipedia entry also quotes him saying: "I can’t wait to get into a position to make really bad art and get away with it. At the moment if I did certain things people would look at it, consider it and then say 'f off'. But after a while you can get away with things."

In Mary's presentation, she quotes Brian Sewell describing Hirst's work as "fucking dreadful" so I suppose you could say Hirst has achieved his goal.

One could also surmise that Hirst is doing a Banksy - demonstrating that the value of art is in the name of the artist and not in the quality of the art he or she produces.

But that's too complicated for me.   Personally, now that I have looked at Hirst's work and considered it, to put it his words, I would say:  "F off' - you are a total tosser".

UPDATE:  In the cool light of day I realise that I've rushed to judgement on Charles Saatchi!  I hardly   know anything about him (apart from the obvious stuff) so I am in no position to view him with disdain and hand out yellow cards to his acolytes .

 So, apologies, and I'll take the yellow card back while I do some research.  First step (apart from reading his Wikipedia entry):  I've just ordered one of Saatchi's books,  Babble (second-hand, 45 pence).

UPDATE 26th March
I've changed my mind about Saatchi - see my latest post.   Now I'm beginning to wonder whether I was wrong about Damien Hirst!

Brian Sewell

I agree with Sewell about Damien Hirst's work but there's two things about Sewell that make my lip curl - his over-the-top upper class accent and mannerisms and his whole attitude to plebs like me. 

Actually, three things:   Sewell doesn't like Banksy,  my hero, which is how he gets on to insulting plebs in this quote referenced by Wikipedia and Mary:


"The public doesn't know good from bad. For this city (Bristol) to be guided by the opinion of people who don't know anything about art is lunacy. It doesn't matter if they [the public] like it."

However, there's plenty to like about Sewell, in particular his outspoken criticism of conceptual art, the Turner Prize and Nicholas Serota, director of the Tate Gallery.  He also ridicules Hockney, which I enjoy.

Thinking about it.  Sewell goes out of his way to annoy lots of people so maybe his accent and attitude to plebs/northerners/women is all part of his act.

Just in case this is Sewell's game I'm going to withhold his total tosser title.  So there!

Jacques Derrida

Mary said this French philosopher was sometimes accused of deliberately writing in ways that were difficult to understand.  If you've read some of my previous posts you'll know that this is like a red rag to a bull for me.

Jacques Derrida (deceased) was born in El Biar, Algiers. 

I lived in El Biar myself in 1973/4! 

Derrida's (extensive) Wikipedia entry includes something about his writing "style":


In his 1989 Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity, Richard Rorty argues that Derrida (especially in his book, The Post Card: From Socrates to Freud and Beyond) purposefully uses words that cannot be defined (e.g. différance), and uses previously definable words in contexts diverse enough to make understanding impossible, so that the reader will never be able to contextualize Derrida's literary self. Rorty, however, argues that this intentional obfuscation is philosophically grounded. In garbling his message Derrida is attempting to escape the naïve, positive metaphysical projects of his predecessors.


Frankly, I couldn't give a monkeys.  I can't see myself ploughing through Derrida's philosophical thoughts whether or not they're written in double-Dutch.

So it isn't worth insulting Derrida with a tosser tag in my opinion.


Michelangelo

I'm on page 310 of the Story of Art by E.H.Gombrich, which means I've got as far as the 17th century.

I am seeing benefits.   The bit about Michelangelo's "Creation of Adam" gave me an idea for my proposal for the Organ Donation Recognition Project, which has got through the first round of a selection process.


Here's my design boards: