There was a documentary on ITV last Sunday about Young British Artists (YBAs - Damien Hirst, Tracey Emin etc) taking on the mantle of rock stars in the 1990s.
Here's a link to it on ITV player:
https://www.itv.com/itvplayer/perspectives/series-1/episode-1-perspectives-gary-kemp-kick-out-the-jams
As you can see it was called "kick out the jams". I had no idea why.
Kick out the jams is listed in Wikipedia as the debut album of an American "protopunk" band, MC5, released in 1969 and, apparently, has become "a slogan of the 1960s ethos of revolution and liberation, in incitement to kick out restrictions in various forms." It also has other connotations and was used by David Bowie in the song "Cygnet Committee".
I suppose its use in the title of this TV programme is to capture the revolutionary, punk era which gave birth to the YBAs.
The programme was presented by Gary Kemp, who I'd never heard of. He was the chief songwriter and guitar player in Spandau Ballet according to his Wikipedia entry.
Anyhow, quite an interesting insight into the YBAs.
It turns out that Damien Hirst did a heck of a lot to get the YBAs established - ran himself ragged organising the Frieze and Sensation exhibitions in warehouses. Kemp points to the parallels in music - the raves in warehouses.
At one stage, Kemp asked an artist whether Damien Hirst was art's equivalent of Bowie, who's successively and successfully renewed himself. The response was that Hirst was more like Noel Gallagher, which conjures up a rather unpleasant spent force in my mind. Seemed telling to me.
Kemp didn't manage to talk to Hirst although he went to Qatar, where Hirst was preparing a giant solo show.
Tuesday, 29 April 2014
Tuesday, 22 April 2014
Duchamp
I've started reading "What are you looking at" by Will Gompertz, the BBC's arts editor.
Chapter 1 is called "The Fountain, 1917" and starts off by dramatising the way Marcel Duchamp acquired his "readymade" urinal, which is widely considered to be the starting point of modern art.
Gompertz goes into a lot of detail, naming the two people with Duchamp - Walter Arensberg, a wealthy supporter (who paid for the urinal) and Joseph Stella, another artist - and describing how they behaved in J.L. Mott Iron Works, the plumbers' merchant where it was supposedly bought.
All of this has put me in a quandary because I've only recently read "Con Art: Why you should sell your Damien Hirst" by Julian Spalding, who says this is baloney.
According to Spalding, the person who bought the urinal in 1917 was Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven. Spalding says Duchamp claimed the idea as his own much later on, in the 1960s, when the Baroness had died, Duchamp had hoodwinked people into believing he was the founder of modern art and none of his own readymades cut it. See my previous post.
So, who's right?
So far, my research has got me even more confused.
Quite a lot of reputable organisations (the Tate, the Guardian and the Daily Telegraph among them) have written similar accounts of Duchamp, Arensberg and Stella going for a stroll in Manhattan and buying the urinal at J.L.Mott Iron Works.
But Wikipedia points to "another version" based on a letter Duchamp wrote to his sister in 1917. In it, he (reportedly) wrote "One of my female friends who has adopted the pseudonym Richard Mutt sent me a porcelain urinal as a sculpture". Wikipedia says Duchamp never identified the female friend but it was probably the Baroness or possibly Louise Norton, an American poet and literary editor (also supported by Arensberg).
Spalding's low opinion of Duchamp's own work isn't shared by the Guardian's Jonathan Jones (the author of an article slagging off a book written by some of the world's foremost art theorists, which I enjoyed). In a 2008 article he calls Duchamp "the 20th century's cleverest artist".
Duchamp's first "readymade" ( a word he invented later) was Bicycle Wheel, a spoked wheel in a metal fork fixed to the seat of a stool. (This link is to a replica made by Duchamp in the 1950s - the original, like the urinal, was lost.)
Jones wonders whether it's a reference to "The Cyclist", a 1913 painting by Jean Metzinger. ( I think he might be referring to a 1912 picture entitled "At the Cycle-Race Track"). "You can't help thinking it means something, but interpretation is vain. It just is. It simply stands there in its light-hearted, loveable glory."
"This toy was a step into intellectual realms no one had entered before," writes Jones.
Jones acknowledges that Duchamp's early paintings were nothing special but says he "eventually excelled as a painter". His "Nude Descending a Staircase No 2" made him "famous in America" when it was shown in 1913.
Chapter 1 is called "The Fountain, 1917" and starts off by dramatising the way Marcel Duchamp acquired his "readymade" urinal, which is widely considered to be the starting point of modern art.
Gompertz goes into a lot of detail, naming the two people with Duchamp - Walter Arensberg, a wealthy supporter (who paid for the urinal) and Joseph Stella, another artist - and describing how they behaved in J.L. Mott Iron Works, the plumbers' merchant where it was supposedly bought.
All of this has put me in a quandary because I've only recently read "Con Art: Why you should sell your Damien Hirst" by Julian Spalding, who says this is baloney.
According to Spalding, the person who bought the urinal in 1917 was Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven. Spalding says Duchamp claimed the idea as his own much later on, in the 1960s, when the Baroness had died, Duchamp had hoodwinked people into believing he was the founder of modern art and none of his own readymades cut it. See my previous post.
So, who's right?
So far, my research has got me even more confused.
Quite a lot of reputable organisations (the Tate, the Guardian and the Daily Telegraph among them) have written similar accounts of Duchamp, Arensberg and Stella going for a stroll in Manhattan and buying the urinal at J.L.Mott Iron Works.
But Wikipedia points to "another version" based on a letter Duchamp wrote to his sister in 1917. In it, he (reportedly) wrote "One of my female friends who has adopted the pseudonym Richard Mutt sent me a porcelain urinal as a sculpture". Wikipedia says Duchamp never identified the female friend but it was probably the Baroness or possibly Louise Norton, an American poet and literary editor (also supported by Arensberg).
Spalding's low opinion of Duchamp's own work isn't shared by the Guardian's Jonathan Jones (the author of an article slagging off a book written by some of the world's foremost art theorists, which I enjoyed). In a 2008 article he calls Duchamp "the 20th century's cleverest artist".
Duchamp's first "readymade" ( a word he invented later) was Bicycle Wheel, a spoked wheel in a metal fork fixed to the seat of a stool. (This link is to a replica made by Duchamp in the 1950s - the original, like the urinal, was lost.)
Jones wonders whether it's a reference to "The Cyclist", a 1913 painting by Jean Metzinger. ( I think he might be referring to a 1912 picture entitled "At the Cycle-Race Track"). "You can't help thinking it means something, but interpretation is vain. It just is. It simply stands there in its light-hearted, loveable glory."
"This toy was a step into intellectual realms no one had entered before," writes Jones.
Actually, this really reminds me of the half-handlebar I submitted to an exhibition at Nottingham University - see my previous post. It stood on my coffee table provoking a similar sort of reaction - puzzlement, amusement, a feeling that it must signify something (in my case something obscene). I must have pressed some buttons in the Fine Art department, unwittingly!
Jones acknowledges that Duchamp's early paintings were nothing special but says he "eventually excelled as a painter". His "Nude Descending a Staircase No 2" made him "famous in America" when it was shown in 1913.
Tuesday, 15 April 2014
Con Art
The full title of this book is "Con Art: Why you should sell your Damien Hirst while you can". I bumped into it while researching Damien Hirst (see previous post).
The author is Julian Spalding, who is "considered to be controversial maverick and outspoken critic of the art world" according to his own website.
He studied art history and art, briefly tried his hand as an artist and designer and then became a curator - notably as a director of galleries in Sheffield, Manchester and Glasgow. Since 2001 he's concentrated on writing. Here's a link to his Wikipedia entry.
I read this book in one sitting, partly because it's more of a booklet than a book, partly because it was really interesting, and partly because I agreed with most (but not all) of his views.
It was a relief to discover that there were knowledgeable people in the art world that shared my dim view of a lot of conceptual contemporary art, or "con art" as Spalding calls it. He does think it's a con.
Really interesting: Marcel Duchamp...
According to Spalding, Duchamp didn't dream up the idea of submitting a urinal for an art exhibition!
It was a wild and whacky friend of his, Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven.
She submitted the urinal, in 1917, it was rejected, and much, much later on, in the 1960s, long after the Baroness had died, Duchamp claimed the idea as his own.
None of his own stuff was any good and he needed something to justify his status as the founding father of modern art - a myth he'd created by effectively hood-winking a magazine into running a big puff piece on him in 1945.
UPDATE: See my subsequent post on Duchamp.
Really interesting: John Berger's Ways of Seeing...
According to Spalding "John Berger's immensely popular TV series and book Ways of Seeing (1972) ... began the rot. "
Berger argued that photography had killed off painting in 1900, which led to the National Gallery succumbing to pressure from Sir Nicholas Serota and handing over all of its 20th century collections to Serota's Tate.
Berger's "poison spread" according to Spalding. The Tate ended up getting into bed with art dealers. The dealers propose exhibitions and the Tate goes along with it on the basis that it will be given some of the works of art in exchange for providing the gallery space.
Everybody on the inside wins because recognition by the Tate results in values rocketing. Hence the current situation with favoured "con artists" making millions for work that plebs like me suspect is taking the piss.
A view I don't agree with: Antony Gormley, a con artist?
Spalding contends that "found objects" (such as the urinal) can't be art because they can't project the artist's "voice" - the characteristic style that distinguishes one artist from another.
He says this applies to Antony Gormley because a lot of his works start off by making a cast of his own body, a found object. "Antony Gormley is the hollow man of modern art, a con artist pretending to be a real one," writes Spalding.
I think this is going too far. Gormley's work can easily be distinguished from other artists. It does have a voice. To me there's two things that set it apart - the way his figures are positioned in relation to landscapes and the invitation to consider the inside and outside of his body and the interface between the two, in his body "cases". See my previous post on Gormley.
By Spalding's reckoning my latest project is a con, because it's based on a found object. I plan to use misshapen carrots to create a cast glass "sculpture" (for want of a better word). The working title is "No One's Perfect" and my aim is to make people think about human imperfections and deformities. More about this here.
I think this is a world apart from found objects like the urinal and the screwed up A4 sheet of paper and stacks of cardboard boxes in Martin Creed's current exhibition.
Like children I think these folk are testing the boundaries, in their case of what can be considered to be art, not by the public but by the folk with the power to make them rich - and they're discovering there are no boundaries.
Hirst might be the extreme example of this. He seems to have pushed things to the point of sneering at the people that buy his 'work'. "Nastiness is the thread that runs through all of Hirst's 'creations'," writes Spalding.
For instance, his assistants bring him the "spin paintings" they've produced. Hirst's only input is the title - "the first strings of words that come into his head" according to Spalding. They include 'Beautiful, Kiss My Fucking Arse Painting', "Beautiful, Cheap Shitty, Too Easy' and 'Beautiful Revolving Sphincter Oops Brown Painting'.
And they sell for $75,000 apiece!
The author is Julian Spalding, who is "considered to be controversial maverick and outspoken critic of the art world" according to his own website.
He studied art history and art, briefly tried his hand as an artist and designer and then became a curator - notably as a director of galleries in Sheffield, Manchester and Glasgow. Since 2001 he's concentrated on writing. Here's a link to his Wikipedia entry.
I read this book in one sitting, partly because it's more of a booklet than a book, partly because it was really interesting, and partly because I agreed with most (but not all) of his views.
It was a relief to discover that there were knowledgeable people in the art world that shared my dim view of a lot of conceptual contemporary art, or "con art" as Spalding calls it. He does think it's a con.
Really interesting: Marcel Duchamp...
According to Spalding, Duchamp didn't dream up the idea of submitting a urinal for an art exhibition!
It was a wild and whacky friend of his, Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven.
She submitted the urinal, in 1917, it was rejected, and much, much later on, in the 1960s, long after the Baroness had died, Duchamp claimed the idea as his own.
None of his own stuff was any good and he needed something to justify his status as the founding father of modern art - a myth he'd created by effectively hood-winking a magazine into running a big puff piece on him in 1945.
UPDATE: See my subsequent post on Duchamp.
This reminds me of the nutty French man in Banksy's "Exit through the gift shop" video. Can't recall his name but he created and sold a warehouse full of art (made by assistants) for many millions of dollars by effectively promoting himself using Banksy-style street art.
Really interesting: John Berger's Ways of Seeing...
According to Spalding "John Berger's immensely popular TV series and book Ways of Seeing (1972) ... began the rot. "
By the way the book wasn't immensely popular with me. I read it early on in this course and struggled to understand its relevance to the work I was producing myself.
Berger argued that photography had killed off painting in 1900, which led to the National Gallery succumbing to pressure from Sir Nicholas Serota and handing over all of its 20th century collections to Serota's Tate.
Berger's "poison spread" according to Spalding. The Tate ended up getting into bed with art dealers. The dealers propose exhibitions and the Tate goes along with it on the basis that it will be given some of the works of art in exchange for providing the gallery space.
Everybody on the inside wins because recognition by the Tate results in values rocketing. Hence the current situation with favoured "con artists" making millions for work that plebs like me suspect is taking the piss.
A view I don't agree with: Antony Gormley, a con artist?
Spalding contends that "found objects" (such as the urinal) can't be art because they can't project the artist's "voice" - the characteristic style that distinguishes one artist from another.
He says this applies to Antony Gormley because a lot of his works start off by making a cast of his own body, a found object. "Antony Gormley is the hollow man of modern art, a con artist pretending to be a real one," writes Spalding.
I think this is going too far. Gormley's work can easily be distinguished from other artists. It does have a voice. To me there's two things that set it apart - the way his figures are positioned in relation to landscapes and the invitation to consider the inside and outside of his body and the interface between the two, in his body "cases". See my previous post on Gormley.
By Spalding's reckoning my latest project is a con, because it's based on a found object. I plan to use misshapen carrots to create a cast glass "sculpture" (for want of a better word). The working title is "No One's Perfect" and my aim is to make people think about human imperfections and deformities. More about this here.
I think this is a world apart from found objects like the urinal and the screwed up A4 sheet of paper and stacks of cardboard boxes in Martin Creed's current exhibition.
Like children I think these folk are testing the boundaries, in their case of what can be considered to be art, not by the public but by the folk with the power to make them rich - and they're discovering there are no boundaries.
Hirst might be the extreme example of this. He seems to have pushed things to the point of sneering at the people that buy his 'work'. "Nastiness is the thread that runs through all of Hirst's 'creations'," writes Spalding.
For instance, his assistants bring him the "spin paintings" they've produced. Hirst's only input is the title - "the first strings of words that come into his head" according to Spalding. They include 'Beautiful, Kiss My Fucking Arse Painting', "Beautiful, Cheap Shitty, Too Easy' and 'Beautiful Revolving Sphincter Oops Brown Painting'.
And they sell for $75,000 apiece!
Friday, 11 April 2014
Damien Hirst
Jonathan Jones called Damien Hirst a "crashing bore" in his Guardian blog, following the news that Hirst is going to reveal all, including his criminal past, in an auto-biography by a ghost-writer.
I must admit I had a good chuckle and enjoyed looking at some reader comments, mostly slagging off Hirst. But then I started looking at some older articles about Hirst and feeling a bit uneasy.
I'd called him a total tosser in a previous post and afterwards had to admit that I hadn't really done my homework, and here I was enjoying Hirst being given a kicking.
So, watch this space....
Guardian review of Damien Hirst retrospective in 2012
Another, more sympathetic, Guardian article about Hirst's planned autobiography
Hirst's previous book sounds fun (if expensive)
I've just bought Julian Spalding's book: "Con Art: Why you should sell your Damien Hirsts while you can" (90 pence).
I've now written a separate post on this book, which includes more stuff about Hirst.
I'll reserve judgement on Hirst until I've finished reading "What are you looking at: 150 Years of Modern Art" by Will Gompertz.
I must admit I had a good chuckle and enjoyed looking at some reader comments, mostly slagging off Hirst. But then I started looking at some older articles about Hirst and feeling a bit uneasy.
I'd called him a total tosser in a previous post and afterwards had to admit that I hadn't really done my homework, and here I was enjoying Hirst being given a kicking.
So, watch this space....
Guardian review of Damien Hirst retrospective in 2012
Another, more sympathetic, Guardian article about Hirst's planned autobiography
Hirst's previous book sounds fun (if expensive)
I've just bought Julian Spalding's book: "Con Art: Why you should sell your Damien Hirsts while you can" (90 pence).
I've now written a separate post on this book, which includes more stuff about Hirst.
I'll reserve judgement on Hirst until I've finished reading "What are you looking at: 150 Years of Modern Art" by Will Gompertz.
Thursday, 10 April 2014
The Story of Art
..by E.H. Gombrich.
I've finished reading it - all 490 pages!
It's a good read (good being a relative term - it still took me several weeks to grind my way through it).
It's written in plain English and it sticks to identifying masterpieces and analysing the motivations behind their creation. No philosophical "blather" (as Saatchi would call it).
At the end I began to wonder whether it was such a great idea to buy a second-hand version for 1 pence (plus postage).
The first version was published in 1950. My version, the 13th edition second impression, was published in 1979 and quite a lot of water has passed under the proverbial bridge in the art world since then (see my update at the end of this post).
The current version, on sale for £16.72 on Amazon (RRP £24.95) is the 16th edition, revised and updated in 1995. I guess there won't be further revisions because Ernst Gombrich died in 2001.
The last chapter in my version is quite reassuring because it makes the point that no one really knows what artists will go down in history until long after they're dead.
It points out that an art critic in 1890 almost certainly wouldn't have even been aware of Van Gogh, Cezanne or Gaugin - three artists from that era that had a huge impact on the evolution of art.
It then goes on to list nine factors that are changing the position of art and artists in society, some of which I rather like:
1) The fact that critics failed to recognise new movements, such as impressionism, in the past now means that critics "have lost the courage to criticise" any new development and the public no longer reject or deride anything posing as art. It's all treated with reverence in case it turns out to be the next big thing.
Right on, Ernst!
2) Artists and critics try and mimic the way scientists tackle bafflingly complex issues with experiments and reasoning. The experiments are healthy but analysing art from a theoretical viewpoint isn't.
I agree. See my post on theorists.
3) Artists have also gone the other way in reacting to the advance of technology - shunning rationality. "The artist can withdraw into his private world and concern himself with the mysteries of his craft and with the dreams of his childhood."
This brings to mind Grayson Perry and his teddy bear. But he doesn't just concern himself with the mysteries of his craft - I appreciate his skill at sharing observations about all sorts of social issues connected to art.
A better fit might be Martin Creed. He's definitely "quirky" as Gombrich puts it.
4) An interest in psychology in general and Freud in particular have encouraged artists to "explore regions of the human mind which were formerly considered repellent or taboo."
I suppose Michael Petry's talk at Plymouth College of Art is an example of that - showing art based on photos of arse-holes and the distance people could ejaculate. I was shocked (and tried to hide it).
5) Painters don't need an "intermediary" to create their art unlike, for example, writers that need a book publisher. As a result they are "the most responsive to radical innovations".
This might be true for painters but (a) I don't think this is a trend and (b) I'd say the trend was in the opposite direction for sculptors (outdated word?): artists like Petry and Anish Kapoor come up with ideas and possibly get involved in the design but get others to implement them.
6) Encouragement of self expression among children and adult amateurs (as a result of art education).
7) Photography as a rival to painting. Gombrich acknowledges that this is a huge influence and would have come higher on his list if it wasn't for the fact that it applies to painting specifically rather than art in general.
Of course, it's become a much bigger issue since Gombrich wrote his book with the advent of digital photography and cameras in phones.
In his book, Gombrich points out that for long time artists made no attempt to make paintings life-like. It only really caught on when art stopped being only "religious" and it's probably no coincidence that moves towards capturing more than just "what it looks like" coincided with the arrival of photography.
8) Attitudes to art differ around the world. Gombrich cites Russia which at the time he wrote his book viewed experimental art as a symptom of decay of capitalist society.
9) The opposite holds true: Art experimentation has encouraged everybody to take a greater interest in the design of their own possessions and surroundings, to think outside the box and to revel in their freedom and the quirkiness of others.
Gombrich concludes:
I've finished reading it - all 490 pages!
It's a good read (good being a relative term - it still took me several weeks to grind my way through it).
It's written in plain English and it sticks to identifying masterpieces and analysing the motivations behind their creation. No philosophical "blather" (as Saatchi would call it).
At the end I began to wonder whether it was such a great idea to buy a second-hand version for 1 pence (plus postage).
The first version was published in 1950. My version, the 13th edition second impression, was published in 1979 and quite a lot of water has passed under the proverbial bridge in the art world since then (see my update at the end of this post).
The current version, on sale for £16.72 on Amazon (RRP £24.95) is the 16th edition, revised and updated in 1995. I guess there won't be further revisions because Ernst Gombrich died in 2001.
The last chapter in my version is quite reassuring because it makes the point that no one really knows what artists will go down in history until long after they're dead.
It points out that an art critic in 1890 almost certainly wouldn't have even been aware of Van Gogh, Cezanne or Gaugin - three artists from that era that had a huge impact on the evolution of art.
It then goes on to list nine factors that are changing the position of art and artists in society, some of which I rather like:
1) The fact that critics failed to recognise new movements, such as impressionism, in the past now means that critics "have lost the courage to criticise" any new development and the public no longer reject or deride anything posing as art. It's all treated with reverence in case it turns out to be the next big thing.
Right on, Ernst!
2) Artists and critics try and mimic the way scientists tackle bafflingly complex issues with experiments and reasoning. The experiments are healthy but analysing art from a theoretical viewpoint isn't.
I agree. See my post on theorists.
3) Artists have also gone the other way in reacting to the advance of technology - shunning rationality. "The artist can withdraw into his private world and concern himself with the mysteries of his craft and with the dreams of his childhood."
This brings to mind Grayson Perry and his teddy bear. But he doesn't just concern himself with the mysteries of his craft - I appreciate his skill at sharing observations about all sorts of social issues connected to art.
A better fit might be Martin Creed. He's definitely "quirky" as Gombrich puts it.
4) An interest in psychology in general and Freud in particular have encouraged artists to "explore regions of the human mind which were formerly considered repellent or taboo."
I suppose Michael Petry's talk at Plymouth College of Art is an example of that - showing art based on photos of arse-holes and the distance people could ejaculate. I was shocked (and tried to hide it).
5) Painters don't need an "intermediary" to create their art unlike, for example, writers that need a book publisher. As a result they are "the most responsive to radical innovations".
This might be true for painters but (a) I don't think this is a trend and (b) I'd say the trend was in the opposite direction for sculptors (outdated word?): artists like Petry and Anish Kapoor come up with ideas and possibly get involved in the design but get others to implement them.
6) Encouragement of self expression among children and adult amateurs (as a result of art education).
7) Photography as a rival to painting. Gombrich acknowledges that this is a huge influence and would have come higher on his list if it wasn't for the fact that it applies to painting specifically rather than art in general.
Of course, it's become a much bigger issue since Gombrich wrote his book with the advent of digital photography and cameras in phones.
In his book, Gombrich points out that for long time artists made no attempt to make paintings life-like. It only really caught on when art stopped being only "religious" and it's probably no coincidence that moves towards capturing more than just "what it looks like" coincided with the arrival of photography.
8) Attitudes to art differ around the world. Gombrich cites Russia which at the time he wrote his book viewed experimental art as a symptom of decay of capitalist society.
9) The opposite holds true: Art experimentation has encouraged everybody to take a greater interest in the design of their own possessions and surroundings, to think outside the box and to revel in their freedom and the quirkiness of others.
Gombrich concludes:
"The history of Art only begins to make sense when we see...why painters and sculptors responded to different situations, institutions and beliefs in different ways."UPDATE: I've now ordered "150 Years of Modern Art" by Will Gompertz, partly so I can fill in on the 35 years since my version of "The Story of Art" was published.
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