Tuesday 20 April 2010

10-BAR Cosmos




A Combination of Disparate Elements
Resulting in a Fortunate Outcome

The process of combining elements to enable structures from various, often random components has a history which can be tracked both in art/historical terms right through every aspect of human endeavour to a molecular level. This work began with an investigation into the structure of components, particularly carbon-based compounds. The elemental building block of all life on earth because of its ability to bond, almost carelessly, with other elements.

In terms of process, early steel manufacture for instance, involved a technique in which the raw materials employed were dung, earth, urine and wood ashes - all burnt to a crisp in a pot. The result was swords that won wars and seating that didn’t bend so often. This process was likely to have been discovered by happy accident - like so many technological advances made in chemistry, alchemy (chemistry with cloaks), science and home economics.

This throne entitled 10-BAR Cosmos represents a slow-moving cumbersome construction. A super large-scale random chemical bond which ultimately results in the form of a chair, albeit with some imperfections and unwanted parts which ultimately make it unusable as a chair.

Such imperfect combinations often result in something which contains an aesthetic value above it’s practical worth. Conversely various combinations of carbon – coal for instance, with its resident impurities, is undoubtedly more ‘useful’ than diamond - an almost pure form of carbon. The comparison is ambiguous and relative. To a person in the dead of winter a piece of coal may be far more beautiful than an enchanting but ultimately useless diamond. Diamonds on the other hand are more valuable to those who rarely handle coal.

Marcus FitzGibbon
Project 204:2010
www.2042010.com

Friday 29 January 2010

Never let the truth get in the way of a good story

Re publicity for the forthcoming exhibition on Friday morning these are the comments so far:


EJ Nutbrown
I vote the first image of both back and front.
I think you've done a fab job. Only thing I'd point out it is the use of the word disco...? Sounds a little bit school days.
Thank you!!
Sent from my iPhone

Matthew Douglas
I like postcard back 2 and front 2 and prefer the name 2 and 8 [ even though I missed the meeting and don't understand the significance ]
Id stick to those designs since time is of the essence
magic !
cant wait to set it all up 
regards
matthew

Shelley Davis
Hi Marcus and everyone,
Thanks for that. I think they're great! I like the 'drawing' one best.
Perhaps have a map on the back as the venue is a little bit hidden. I'm not sure the name needs to be on the front as well as the back. Better on the back I think and maybe take out 'an' sounds more definite then.
I'll have another think about the name of the group... got someone else (Joyce recommended them) working on it too. I'll let you know if we come up with anything.
We thought we'd have another meeting at GWRSA on Tuesday 9th at 6pm just to clarify things before the show on Thursday 11th Feb!
See you there,
Shelley

PS I have some photos that Tom took. I'll upload them for you Marcus before Sat.
Bernard Fairhust
Not just RSA but GWRSA
sorry to miss the meeting today, some poor person died on the M5 and all points south were blocked.
if someone would like to use that nice curved alcove by where Matt is doing something that would be Ok with me and if I ever produce something it could fit in on some floor-space.
Seems like a good idea to use the graffito card design, I think the text works and too little time to worry about design details.
best wishes
Bernard

Tom Martin
I missed the 'front' pages first time, the graffiti one looks great and the font. I wonder if the title would stand out better in red or dense black?
Should it be 'an exhibition of recent art work by.....?' It looks like an invite to a 'bar and disco'... I might be the only one to think that.
Tom

Wednesday 16 December 2009

I AM MAKING ART - John Baldessari at Tate Modern

By destroying all his work in 1970 John Baldessari added a punctuation mark to his life and work that no reviewer can ignore and every subsequent show must reference. Merely by it’s absence the destroyed work and that moment has become a statement. The paintings which, according to the artist, filled a disused cinema were taken to a nearby crematorium to be disposed of in ritual fashion allowing Baldessari to radically change direction with his work. In the show at Tate Modern we are introduced first, to some of the paintings which ‘survived’ the fire – although I think it would be more fun if they had put some scorch marks around the edges to add a little drama.

These paintings like all of Baldessari’s work are instructive, in fact the whole show feels like an art lesson delivered by a slightly insane but clearly brilliant teacher who has thought of everything and is trying to find a way of showing it all, to everyone, at once. This huge body of work is exhibited chronologically and includes these earlier paintings, photographs, notebooks, video pieces, sketches, montages, diagrams and even a bang-up-to the minute, very large, interactive sculptural installation.

This show is an archive, a reference library for conceptual art and a manual on how to look, how to see and how to deliver.

In a series of small photographs the artist demonstrates hitting various objects with a golf club so that they are in the centre of photograph. These shop-processed prints, like much of the work in this part of the show, have a distinctive period feel as if one had opened a family album full of pictures from that first period of cheaply available, machine processed colour photography. Small prints with uneven colour saturation that have the ubiquitous 1970’s white border and probably have Kodak written in the back. It’s strangely comforting to think there’s probably all the negatives from this part of the show are in the pouch of an envelope with a picture of a smiling family at the beach printed on the front.

This sense of ‘period’ runs throughout the show regardless of whether it is because of the type of print used to make the work which is mostly small 5x3 prints or slightly later 7x5’s but also the subject matter. A long haired Baldessari pronounces I am Making Art in a series of absurd poses adopted for each repetitive line on video shot using the Sony Portapak system developed in the early 1970’s and now transferred to DVD. Everything here is documentation; of it’s time, experiments with new media and of the world within and around the artist. There’s a sense of consistent feedback and reflection in this work which is both cutting-edge and oddly familiar. Baldessari makes it seem as if there is no place he has not been.

The extensive notebooks and preparation documents displayed in glass cabinets mark significant stages in the development of his practice. Each at the initiation of a turning point – demonstrating the meticulous planning and devious intellect behind the simplified ideas that follow. Fable, moral, story, narrative and brainstorming are filed, examined and modified. This is a fascinating insight into the structures which are subsequently released as visual art. This is the cauldron of some mad scientist at work, babbling instructions at his assistants: ‘The best way to do art’ a typical digression into the story of Cezanne while the work of the period (Early 1980’) uses high-contrast pictures taken from film posters or books.

There is a constant increase in scale shown in this relentless progression as if Baldessari has either bought himself a bigger enlarger or has to stand back further to see what he is producing. In addition the reference to the source media and photo-montage material runs awkwardly backwards ¬– the later photographs using images from mid twentieth century film and magazines. He is moving in two artistic and temporal directions at once. Taking the work and it’s transformation forward by utilising paint to obscure and disrupt the ‘disposable’ elements of a photograph, clumsily fucking about with the mounting and framing while incorporating images which are gleaned from an affection for a time which corresponds with his formative years at San Diego State University in the early 1950’s.

The mounting is steadfastly mean – black block-framed prints with no fuss which eliminate sensitivity and are bleakly functional. Each wall space has the feel of a page in a book – and this is essentially where the work is not so much coming from as aiming for. Baldessari is both an art teacher and an artist with loyalties to both which do battle in this huge analysis and leave the observer and student to try and clear up the cognitive mess. The work is uncompromisingly instructional and direct ¬– juxtaposing text with images, pictures with deliberate obfuscation and intentional flaws and then taking the mores of the contemporary establishment, a term which in this case includes over half a century, head-on and confidently offering commentary and response in a positive, and often reactionary way.

The show closes with the viewer reflected in the wall before them, timelapsed by a half minute, standing beneath the gargantuan Baldessari brain formed in plastic like a stage set from the Wizard of Oz where one would expect to find the professor, engineer of ideas and madcap genius standing behind the curtain.

Monday 26 October 2009

Pat Jamieson at Windows 204


Patricia Jamieson’s residency at Windows 204 began with an intensive period of work within the studio and culminated in the two large works displayed here. The simplicity of structure and apparent uniformity of bold capital typography belies the investigative process which brought this work to passers by and commuters in this busy section of Bristol’s Gloucester Road. The words are those of the artist, drawn from her extensive sketch books and note pads, the raw intensity of monochrome bisection is strikingly at odds with what is essentially a love poem and a typically concise but nonetheless romantic musing on reflection. In this day of texts and email the use of capitals has a meaning of it’s own and Pat’s work, as always, urges the viewer to sit up and take notice of the the things that surround us and perhaps a way of complimenting that which we sometimes take for granted.

Windows 204 is an art space run by Arts lecturer and Photographer Deborah Weinreb in Bristol's Gloucester Road. Similar to it's near neighbour Gallery 212 but more thoughtfully curated, Deborah's space offers artists and affordable way to present work to the public eye for a period of two weeks. This constantly changing display is seen by thousands each day as the Gloucester Road is a major artery for pedestrians, busses and traffic. For more information visit: http://windows204.tripod.com or email: windows204@mac.com

Sunday 25 October 2009

Myth and History at The Bristol Gallery


The Bristol Gallery is an oasis to be found among the pizza restaurants and coffee bars which lie at the foot of the windy walkways of Bristol’s Harbourside development. Their most recent exhibition Myth and History, curated by Dr Dorothy Rowe, presents the work of seven accomplished artists well blended for this ambitious first show.

On entering one is immediately struck by the large, bright and fearless paintings of Lubiana Himid. Each work confidently occupies it’s own space and Lubiana clearly chooses her canvas to suit each piece with instinctive precision. The bold, flat colour that acrylic painting tends to lend itself, is used to backdrop and frame seemingly disparate figures, collage effects and fabric painting. The true outsider in this show, Lubiana’s work takes a contemporary craft feel as if each piece were a table laid out with the results of each investigation. The roots of these expressions however are clearly embedded in her cultural interests and are a conscientious exposition of history, race, slavery and cultural/imperialist manipulation.

Patrick Hains fragile bird sculptures are so lovingly crafted and conceived they invite inspection as if one had discovered the body of a bird on the garden path. The mythology of birds is well documented throughout all cultures and Patrick’s bronze resin depictions draw on a familiar Anglo Saxon traditional heritage yet retain a sense of having been constructed from within the artist’s imagination. As much the result of investigating a storybook or folk tale as an accurate study of the creatures themselves they immediately invoke a feeling of calm contemplation within the viewer and a desire to investigate further. With the book-sized King of all Birds a tiny wren lies like a broken eggshell within a small wooden box. A prize from a traditional hunt, almost certainly pre-Christian in origin, wrenboys would go out just after Christmas to capture the (real at first and then planted) bounty. This piece has the quality of something found within a dusty attic or hidden at the top of grandfather’s bookshelf. Most of these delicate bronze resin castings and displayed on plinths or free standing like the exquisite Bird Branches in which the creatures are pierced by the very branches they live among. Here the use of plinths is a requirement but in the home Patrick’s work seems to want to inhabit a windowsill or corner where it will be quietly discovered.

The large photographic montages of Phil Sayers cry out to be on the edge of this collection yet occupy the centre ground in terms of reference to Victorian and Edwardian interpretations of mythology and feminine aesthetic. This work will always court controversy and knowingly uses this in its conception. One large piece uses the disparaging notes taken from an exhibition guest book all around the border to undermine by inclusion; “Wonderful, apart from the awful transvestite pornography.” for instance. This device was used by Banksy in his recent Bristol Museum show where recorded negative comments from radio interviews about graffiti and vandalism were included within an installation. This is not work to admire easily and the viewer may wonder why the artist feels the need to qualify the heritage of his digital ‘paintings’ yet further by including a reproduction of the original, with accompanying text, next to each piece. Surely it would be more fun to try and place each work and impress your fellow visitor with that knowledge. Sayers work is literally laced with irony yet we somehow feel he may be taking himself a little too seriously. Almost too large to own, the massive digitally printed canvasses are sensibly reproduced in print form and available to the collector who does not possess a room the size of a tennis court in order to take in the whole, and for a fraction of the cost. Nonetheless the curation here is decisive and brave. If Bristol Gallery are to make an impact here of all places then they will need to encourage debate and excite interest in many ways and despite the work of Phil Sayers outraging the senses among the booth-style seats at this quirky end of the gallery his work holds a worthy place among this group.

In the same space, more personal in scale and strongly linked by an affection for staged portraiture the work of Emma Tooth sits confidently alongside the larger works surrounding them. One can see why the blend from ultra-modern technique to these smaller singly focussed renditions in oil works for the hang in terms of content. However, these exacting likenesses may have been somewhat overshadowed by their exuberant gallery partners in retrospect. These intimate portraits, thoughtfully mounted and framed elevate the sitter to the status of nobility or merchant patron and have Rembrandt and the Caravaggio influenced portraitists such as Georges de La Tour at their shoulder. Emma’s contemporizing of the subject within the medium in the way that Plymouth artist Robert Lenkiewicz had exemplified so boldly and may be seen in other of her Concilium Plebis series of which just one example was included here.

It may be the that portrait artists will gain commissions from a show such as this rather than selling widely at the private view but as an observer one may consider the relationship of photographic portraiture and painting more acutely as a result. Of all, Emma’s Self Portrait with Accordion betrays her fondness for the burlesque and decorated persona.

The other sculptor in this show draws on legend and stories but in a more literal and direct fashion. A politicised Icarus has crashed to the ground among the debris of modern urban waste and reveals his wings to be made of spent bullets in the most striking of Deborah van der Beek’s bronzes. Deborah’s references to literature are clear and her previous work as a book illustrator is apparent as her work has the quality of completeness such as one would find in a chapter illustration. An eroded Sancho Panza is here, loping zombie-like and shattered by a nuclear blast and then if re-fragmented as if by some unnatural force. Some accompanying drawings to her work feature Ned Kelly and the resulting bronzes and these sit comfortably alongside Don Quixotte and other characters. Using the cimet fondu sculpting and casting process to create her work Deborah offers a million facets within her pieces for the viewer to enjoy and offer an undoubted challenge for the foundry master.

There is something for everyone within this wide-ranging collection of styles, approaches and techniques – from the high camp drama of Phil Sayers’ work to that which is ultimately countered by the intricate skill and inventiveness of Tina Hill’s book sculptures. Spreading like entrails from an open wound the rippled pages of a book spill over the table top in careful disarray. Pages cut into puzzle pieces and butterfly shapes combine a literal metaphor with a staggering adeptness with the surgeon’s scalpel. The ‘do not touch’ signs attached to these pieces are well placed, for the temptation to gently stroke the leaves of a book rescued from the floor of a defunct Bristol bookseller is almost irresistible. These, although fairly priced are almost too delicate to own unless you were brave enough to let one tumble from your bookshelves. Tina offers commissions and the idea of transforming that book that you’ll never read again but can’t throw away is certainly tempting.

Bristol Gallery’s inaugural show closes with a sublime homage to sensual detail and a pure example of the painters art. Mark Parkinson‘s set of six oil on aluminium square panels glow with quiet luminescence offering the viewer a chance to consider the whole of this show within context. The reproduction of a detail of soft fabric overlaid on alloy somehow encapsulates this exhibition with simple clarity.

Bristol Gallery have thoughtfully combined the work of artists from a variety of disciplines and influences to make a show that is coherent yet surprising. This is just what Bristol needs and I look forward to what’s in store for the coming year.

Marcus FitzGibbon

Sunday 18 October 2009

Turner prize 2009

The Turner Prize 2009 exhibition at Tate Britain is a show well placed for a recession. Architectural in scale, the work as a whole occupies the vast halls with assurance and balance and refreshingly contains little of the shock, glitz and glamour of past Turner Prize exhibits. This is work about continuity, time and transformation.

Lucy Skaer offers two notable pieces, dramatically different in size but housed in close proximity. Leviathan Edge, the bleached skull of a sperm wale glimpsed through slots cut in the wall backdrop her second piece Black Alphabet. Like a childhood nightmare, the monster peeping through the bedroom curtains with a skeletal leer contrasts the slender forms of the 26 piece, coal dust and resin skittles neatly arranged before it. Like the legs of some anorexic supermodel balanced on delicate hooves Black Alphabet is related to it’s mammalian partner by age and timelessness.

Richard Wright’s vast intricate gold-leaf pattern is worked directly on to the wall at the end of a long, broad space immediately inviting close inspection before stepping backward to take in the whole. Reminiscent of cheap Indian wood block prints on tissue paper the shining gold is both a multiple reflected mandala and exotic landscape of gentle light. The panel seems to invoke a space behind it and confidently stays free of the wall edge. Because this work will have to be painted over it’s ephemeral nature has the momentary impact of a rainbow or sunset.

The stage set created in the next room is all about Enrico David. Even our audience space is interrupted by a Bocsh-like egg figure with the face of the artist pasted on the front. An identical figure perches on the stage with enlarged photographed hands holding the tapered abdomen as if he is about to fart or give birth to another egg – presumably with the same Elvis-like face pasted on the front. I’m not sure what Enrico is telling us here but it seems to be quite a lot about Enrico and not much else. Grotesque theatrical figures view the tableau on one side and the stretched form of a fabric spider-armed man lolls his cardboard face on a montage of printed demonic baby figures. The piece is dominated by a huge cardboard head representing a simplistic phrenological diagram. But guess who’s mind we are introduced to. Enrico apparently thinks chocolate spill and speaks gay builders arse. Although entirely self indulgent there is an absurd playfulness about this when the rest of the show deals with much larger issues.

The brain features in the next room but in a less personal way. Animal brain tissue, presumably mixed with casting wax is used throughout Rogert Hiorns untitled set and employed first to create two alien embryonic forms suspended on a white wall. There is pure transition here on a cosmological scale. A passenger jet engine atomised into a billion grains lays on the floor in black and grey low sculpted dunes. This installation seems to mark a passing moment in endless millennia. The materials used are ephemeral yet constant and deviously specific in their extraction and reconstitution. A bleak dissection of oblivion and hopelessness in which god is a scientist and we are fortunate dust from the laboratory floor.

Saturday 17 October 2009

Red Shift

Dearest chums,

I am nursing a sore head from last night's party. It was the opening of the National Collective's First Exhibition on the top floor of the Tobacco Factory and we all drank far too much wine. I will return to write a serious review of the party and the exhibition later. I am inspired to make this blog by my good friend Kathryn Campbell who as well as being a lovely person has the words 'art monkey' written through her like Brighton rock. I am now going into the bath.