More dada, andada, andada

If you think dada netart makes sense and is a never-drying creek of creativity, check out Grafik Dynamo.
Here, the pictures are chosen from the net at random, and then combine with texts (randomly chosen, of course) from a comic book.

Personally, I am now getting a little tired of all these "chance operations" and the supposedely wonderful things I am to arrive at while looking at accidents. Hazard is a dangerous things - it makes you believe in luck, and makes you associate luck with meaning, with sense, and it all just starts to fit too nicely.
At least it's funny.

Retro Net Art

The beginning of something old-fashioned and stylishly attractive, by Olia Lialina, net artist and archaeologist (though she describes herself as "Net Artist. Animated Gif Model. Wife of Rockstar"). You can also explore her charmingly crazy gallery site, art.teleportacia.org.

Universal faces

Have you ever seen a work that corresponds exactly to an idea you had? Well, here is something I had wanted to make (in a slightly different way) a few years ago with my partner. We ended up not doing it, as we had no experience and didn't know how to go about it. Now, the photographer Mike Mike has got there in his way. It's a bittersweet feeling: yes, sweet, because at least someobody did it, and one can move on and empty the cache memory - and hopefully use it elsewhere.

Closer to the object

Anarchitekton is a project by Catalan artist Jordi Colomer.

anarchitekton is the generic title of a video series made as a work in progress: Barcelona, Bucharest, Brasilia, Osaka are the first stops on this journey.
A peculiar character, Idroj Sanicne travels the city contaminating the streets with fiction. The models of the buildings are like grotesque banners, utopian provocations, or playful flags. Idroj runs to the broken rhythm of the cross disolve static images which, paradoxically, reflect a sense of unflagging movement.
A multi-projection in which each city is presented on a screen and everything happens simultaneously.

What is it about? Is it about the city, about its character, its space, about introducing fiction into reality (as the above statement would have it)? Or maybe it's about "On the one hand, the dream of edification in front of its reality; on the other, the dream of destruction facing its accomplishment. "? It certainly looks like a statement. A Manifesto (says Jean Pierre Rehm). "But a manifesto of what?" - he quickly adds. "Criticism? Is it a matter of appreciating the difference between this scaled-down model and the ponderous constructions of our cities? Or on the contrary their similarities?"
It is clear from the material on the page that the artist came into this well-prepared. He knows his art history (studied it at university), his architecture (university as well) and above all, he knows everything he needs to know about the specific places he goes to: their history, background, problems and solutions. This gives us a feeling of depth. It allows us to travel a bit further. But at the same time, it nearly imposes the idea that "he knows what he is doing". Does he really? And, above all, does he need to know? I have been recently captivated by the capacity good artists have of creating things wiser than themselves. This has recently become an actual ideal for many creators: don't control too much, let go of the kite just in time to see what the wind has to say... This might seem as a very slippery ground: after all, what is this Anarchitekton thing: an irony, a protest, a criticism, a proposal? If the apparently clear answer is "all of the above", it only deepens the problem. To put it bluntly, these interpretations are not only different, but they often contradict themselves. And if we demand some clarity of thought from people doing other activities, why shouldn't we expect that from artists?
Maybe today artists don't even want to interpret. They move closer to the object, to the reality they "express" or just "touch" or "double-see", and move out of the zone of personal opinion. It has been an unexpected discovery for me (although I do it when I create, too), since the ever-more subjective point of view seemed to be heading in the exact opposite direction, of "free", personal and voluntarily biased opinions and (mainly positive) discriminations. Instead, here we are, with artists simply, and gently, ever so gently underlining this or that segment of all this strange stuff we're made of. I get the feeling this process is much more difficult than it may appear to an unaware onlooker. You may disagree - but watch the artists. They pay their price, as they become increasingly transparent, light, ephemerous, nearly disappearing behind the copy of a bulding, letting the stuff speak by itself. Almost by itself. The cardboard building still needs someone to make it fly. And us.

Take a picture, make a film

Until recently, photographs have been the predominant form of performance documentation and a key reference for historians attempting to cobble together the more than one hundred year history of performance art.

Nowadays, film and video of performance, both historical and contemporary, is readily available . Previously inaccessible archives of mostly unedited documents, known to a privileged few writers and researchers, are being transposed to DVD, and suddenly, an entirely new element has been introduced into performance studies, as well as into museum display. We now get to watch a performance in real time that was originally intended for a live audience. This shift in perception is much greater than one would at first think.

Take a series of startling black and white photographs of Joseph Beuys’ “I like America and America likes me” (1974) for example. We know well the sequence showing Beuys, his head covered in a blanket, in a confined space, in close proximity to a coyote. We know too the near legendary story that goes with it; Beuys, as symbolic representative of the invading European, dedicating a work to the American Indian (symbolized by the coyote) in recognition of the decimation of a people by ferocious colonial excursions. The resulting still image is a deeply poetic, even iconic one, given that it stands for so much history. Its dramatic impact is assured by the shape of Beuys’ body, bowed over a stick which he holds in front of him to keep the animal at bay, but also in apparent supplication, while the small animal, ears raised and on the alert, which seems to gain confidence as he studies the quiet apologist in front of him, is a touching counterpoint to Beuys’poised presence. Now see the film, which was recently screened at an exhibition (“Art, Lies and Videotape,” at Tate Liverpool in 2003, and can be seen on various websites), and a very different picture emerges. Reverence is replaced to some degree by absurdity, as we watch Beuys arriving at J.F.K airport in New York wrapped in his signature felt fabric, being placed by assistants in an ambulance, which is later stopped on the highway by police requesting a permit, and being led up the stairs of a building in SoHo, where he is introduced to the coyote with whom he will share the small gallery space for seven days. In some ways the elegance and stark eloquence of the still photograph are lost in the documentary footage of the event.

This is a fragment of a small article about the impact of video footage on the way we remember - and see - performance, by Roselee Goldberg, probably the most renowned performance theorist, analyst and critic today.

Getting it right every time

I was talking to a writer a while ago, who's a little older than me. He was saying how, you know, he now had become technically better. He could write more quickly. He knew when things weren't working. He'd acquired technique. And I had to realise when I was talking to him that I still don't know how to get that presence on stage, that every time I go down for a new piece it's the same battle as it was for [my first show] Sakonnet Point in1975. That I had not gotten any clearer about how to get that presence, how to keep it, how to make the form balance with the -

- Elizabeth LeCompte (1944-)
"Founder and director of the Wooster Group (1976-), the New York based performance company, which broke away from Richard Schechner's Performance Group (1967-80). It grew out of a long tradition of rejection of American commercial theater, redefining the position of the 'performer' and 'role', and the function of previously written playscripts, in particular plays by the established American and European writers, whose work often constitutes a base for the group's performance explorations. " (from The Twentieth-Century Performance Reader)

A few months ago the Wooster Group created Poor Theater, a show where the performers reproduced (among other things) Apocalipsis Cum Figuris, Jerzy Grotowski's most famous work, from a film recording projected on large screens. Apparently (from what friends told me) the show was welcomed as a scandal in Poland, where Grotowski's original performance had taken place. It's good to know quality scandals still happen somewhere.

Blog vs. Web Page

During my (2-day) absence, the number of visitors dropped dramatically. Which made me think. It's clear that the large majority of the visitors don't know the whole blog - that is, haven't been reading since the beginning or looking at all the previous posts. What's more, it seems normal that only the new posts are valid. The very structure of a blog suggests that it's about news, about what's happening - and so, what tomorrow will be out-of-date. Something like a newspaper. On the other hand, a classical web page does not give that feeling. It's always nice when it's updated, but the non-linear structure gives the idea of something deep, something that resists well in time. Now that I think of it, I react that way myself - the blog will interest me mainly for its latest additions, while a classical web page will attract my attention for a longer time, and make me come back even without the added value of news. You never know what you can find on a web page - there might be something interesting right around the corner. In a blog, on the other hand, what's gone becomes covered by the dust of nowadays. As if the fourth or fifth layer of Troy wasn't as interesting as the newest addition... Yes, I would most definitely change the structure of the blog. Add some categories, tabs, something to encourage a more in-depth look. If I knew how to do it, that is.

Generous Art

How to discover Tomoko Takahashi's latest work (and understand a little about the ways contemporary art scene can be presented).
1) Go here
2) Then go here
3) Finally, go here
4) Share your impressions.

The jacket is the perfect organ

I have just stumbled upon Carolyn Zick's blog, a fine fine arts blog (for specialized eyes only, though, with loads of inside jokes and comments on comments on comments on art). (I later discovered this "work" section I found more lively and hands-on, so to speak). What intrigued me was the series of drawings and paintings by Zick, mainly composed of jackets. Why would somebody want to draw jackets and abandon the rest of the world? Where lies the jacket beauty? What is it in a jacket that fascinates Carolyn Zick? I've asked her the question on her blog, and will keep you updated.
Zick's blog also has an amazing, very impressive art links section. In case you just want more and more (which you probably do, considering you're here).

PS: I found some information (like the artist statement of Zick's previous series, which I prefer) suggesting that the jackets might be hearts, or organs, or orghearts. What is the distance I must travel to get to the heart of it/ a heart of it?

Art as a Commodity

Luis Gispert, Untitled (Chain Mouth, a.k.a. Muse Ho), 2001

Art is a fairly risky affair: you can work hard, create things that are original, beautiful, interesting, but still struggle to make a good living. What's more, you have no security - you never know when a wave of success will stop, and you have no retirement plan. Why would you want to think of a retirement plan as an artist? Well, for one, you don't still believe the artist is a machine creating work after work after work until the batteries run out, do you? Wired published an article about an original idea for giving artists more security (and making money while doing it, of course):

The idea was simple: Create a pension plan for artists by gathering a collection of their works and gradually selling them off to build a cash account.

But can art make real money? According to this study (quoted in the article), it can:

In 1998, NYU business school professors Michael Moses and Jianping Mei began an unusual experiment. They would track every transaction involving objects that had sold more than once at auction at the major New York houses since 1875. By creating a single database, they could see how art performs against traditional investment vehicles like stocks and bonds. (...) The index revealed that fine art was a far more reliable investment than is commonly thought. Moses and Mei also disproved the hoary maxim that masterpieces make the best investments. They showed that lesser-known (and thus cheaper) works appreciate at a higher rate. Finally, the index suggested that the art market floats independently from the stock market, giving it resilience against boom-and-bust cycles. (...) In theory, fine art could be used to minimize volatility in an investor's portfolio.

All this is theory, but here comes the bottom line:

Of course, the best way to manage risk is to reduce it as much as possible - even if that means tilting the market in your favor. The goal is for the trust to work as a sort of seal of approval. And so the APT will aggressively promote its collection, lending to museums and galleries to enhance the reputations - and market values - of its members. There's a name for this sort of manipulation, and it's no compliment: prospecting.

Shocking? Manipulative? Degrading for art? David Ross, former director of the Whitney Museum of American Art and the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, doesn't think thinking of art as a commodity is bad, even for an artist:

"What's wrong with that?" Ross asks. "People are going to manipulate the market, for better or worse. Why shouldn't the artist, or someone representing him, be doing it?"

And if you still think this puts a dark shadow on the once-pure figure of the artist, think again. And meet Luis Gispert, a fairly renowned artist who "pulls in about $100,000 a year from the sale of photographs and sculptures" and was one of the first to join the retirement fund:

"The idea of 'artist' is less sacrosanct than it once was," he says. "I could have easily gone into commercial photography or the movie business. Why should I suffer because I make art instead?"

Louis Gispert Untitled (Car Toes), 2002

Mocean

Mocean is a musical immersive environment that invites people to touch, stir and play with water in a tank. The movement of the water is translated into movement of air in the organ pipes suspended above the water. The sound of the pipes envelops the person, its movement echoing the waves and ripples in the tank.
Artists: Maia Marinelli, Jared Lamenzo and Liubo Borissov.
(via we-make-money-not-art)

Perform

Performance art is a tricky thing: the more you talk about it, the less it seems obvious. I've already mentioned that the internet is not the place to look for resources in this domain. You can always try. Just don't do it for too long, or you will end up thinking that it's either something horribly idiotic, so abstract it's completely devoid of meaning, simply and completely mad (the latter site has some excellent cases though!), or plain dead. (I made the selection based on Google's top choices).
Fortunately, the ancient wisdom of printed paper comes to the rescue. Besides the brilliant book I've been recommending for a while called Live:Art and Performance, there is a new, exciting book out called simply Art Works Perform.
Why is it exciting? Because its aim is to show how very different things performance art can be. It is full of short... well, I would call them adventure stories (although some last a lifetime). Like the one about Andreas Slonimski and his stealing a bicycle pump in the most unusual of ways (artistic, of course), or about Olafur Eliasson's rivers of color, or about Rirkrit Tiravanija's challenge of engaging the audience in the most positive of ways.
What is also wonderful about these stories, is that they really show different people, in different worlds and working in different ways. Some dance, others take pictures, or write, or make pizzas, garage sales, lines of yellow paint or of pigeons, or make water fall. They all share one thing: an outstanding sensitivity, which makes this book a collection of powerful, inspiring moments. The book also has several "extras", works curated for the publication and interviews, but I must admit I'm much more overwhelmed by the combination of original artists (though the interviews are good, too).
There were 2 other things I really liked about the book: first, it is signed by Joan Jonas, an artist I really admire. And second, it's really cheap. (At least at Amazon it is).

Silence

"I somehow loved that silence, though; and felt it met my wishes
As no one's talk does nowadays!"
- Dionysus about the silence in Aeschylus's plays. The quote comes from "The Frogs" by Aristophanes, 405 B.C.

When business uses art

I'm not really sure what to think about the subservient chicken.
It is an ad for a junk food enterprize. It subtly makes us remember the brand, and associate it with positive, fun things.
This is classic PR work.
On the other hand, it's very funny, well-made, innovative and can certainly be considered net art.
There have been many artistic interventions related to commerce. I have myself participated in some (though I must say I was very reluctant and would only do it again if I was as financially desperate as I was at the time). Commercials won't go away. We might just as well accept this as a fact and at least see the less idiotic ones without the constant scorn we are so accustomed to. And make that chicken jump and run. And then - move on to more enriching things.
(for more discussion about viral marketing, go to Palladio)

Guerilla Projector

Presenting,

the SMS Guerilla Projector. A high-intensity light source, it's equipped with a cellphone that can receive and then project SMS messages in public spaces: theaters, walls, government buildings. By the London-based art/design collective Troika.

(via eyeteeth)

Which artist said this?

When I was still an adolescent, I went and signed my name on the other side of the sky during a fantastic ‘realistico-imaginary’ voyage.

It was pure chance that led me to judo. Judo has helped me to understand that pictorial space is above all the product of spiritual exercises. Judo is in fact the discovery by the human body of a spiritual space.

I had left the visible, physical blue at the door, outside, in the street. The real blue was inside, the blue of the profundity of space, the blue of my kingdom, of our kingdom! ... the immaterialisation of blue, the coloured space that cannot be seen but which we impregnate ourselves with ... A space of blue sensibility within the frame of the white walls of the gallery.

I remain detached and distant, but it is under my eyes and my orders that the workof art must create itself. Then, when the creation starts, I stand there, present at the ceremony, immaculate, calm, relaxed, perfectly aware of what is going on and ready to welcome the work of art that is coming into existence in the tangible world.

Hours of preparation for something that is executed, with extreme precision, in a
few minutes. Just as with a judo throw.

Today anyone who paints space must actually go into space to paint, but he must go there without any faking, and neither in an aeroplane, a parachute nor a rocket: he must go there by his own means, by an autonomous, individual force; in a word, he must be capable of levitating.

(You can search for the answer at the absolutely brilliant UBUWEB site)
(And for the answer, see the comments)

The new art of modem dance

Night stage : A big snow monkey appears in the center of the pond during a night stage produced by American modem dance artist Robert Wilson at a press preview for the 2005 World Exposition in Nagakute, Aichi prefecture.

This note was found on Yahoo news. I am usually against laughing at spelling mistakes, but this one is too much. You see, as many of you must know, Robert Wilson is not a "modern dance artist". He is a theater director and designer. From what I managed to learn, he created a choreography (or maybe rather: stage movement) for the above-mentioned Japanese event. One ignorant journalist copied this information off another, off another, until we got a modem dance artist. Which is nice, and should inspire all of us to new inter-disciplinary work.
In case you're curious about Wilson's art, here and here and here are some good starting points.
Oh, and here is an example of Robert Wilson's designing imagination (click on the image for more):
A Chair with a Shadow

Outstanding stencil art

M-city is an ongoing street art project by Polish artist Mariusz Waras. The site contains images of the work (various media: grafitti, stickers, billboards, canvas...).

M-city in a first place is a play with the form and space of the city, played on the walls, posters, billboards, stickers and in the virtual world. All of the pieces of M-city - there is about 100 of them - were made as stencils.

The inspiration to the architecture of M-city came mostly from the architecture of Threecity (Gdansk, Sopot, Gdynia, Baltic coast, north of Poland) and it's surroundings, but there's no avoiding of motifs from other regions of Poland.

The architecture of the town is in a sense a promotion of groups of people who work together for society. These include independent media, charities, non-governmental organisations, off theatres etc. Most of the project realisations are on especially chosen walls and matching the historical or architectural context of the surroundings.

You can also create your own virtual city in flash, using this on-line "constructor". I played around with it for a while (in case you haven't noticed, it spells two words):

Still-born blogs

What about all those lonely posts stuck in abandoned blogs, one-post blogs nobody remembers, silent witnesses of our ever-growing hunger
for others?

Money

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