Guest Projects, London
27 - 29 January 2012
What is
Circa 1960? Upon entering
Guest Projects space you are confronted with
Mark Selby’s No Need to Shout,
a top heavy structure with a large red PVC trumpet shape (reminiscent
of Kapoor’s Marsyus) leaning towards you. The main structure is made
from Meccano-esque steel and stands about eight feet tall. To the left there is a pile of handouts on a chair. It tells you that:
“Circa 1960 is a group of artists/ Circa 1960 is a residency/ Circa
1960 is a research project/ Circa 1960 is a physical and metaphorical
meeting space/ Circa 1960 is a group show/ Circa 1960 is an exploration
into failure, notions of modernity, sci-fi, design and ideals.”
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| Mark Selby, No Need to Shout. Photo: Jimmy Merris. Courtesy: the Artist | | | | |
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Circa 1960 fits aptly with
Guest Projects’ ethos:
the artists are guests, invited in to create a project of which the
exhibition was just one small part. Examining failed ideologies of
Modernism; we must view this project as a whole, as mocking the ambition
of the Modernist project. The sheer scale of ambition in the project
smacks of this and it is for this reason that I will turn my attention
to the satellite events that occurred during the build up to the
exhibition. There are clues that the artists may not be taking this too
seriously here. Events included a Danceathon by
Hey Baby Chief Panda
– which was a competition where the winner is the last person dancing,
and (so I am reliably told) a parody performance of a Careers Centre by
Jimmy Merris
– where instead of delivering careers advice the performer tried to
give the customer whisky, and stared them for long periods while a man
named “Paul” talked about his own work. The story of the Careers Centre
struck me because my wife works in the careers department of a London
university. University careers centres have long since abandoned
actually giving careers advice – Christ no! They might get sued. Also,
more liberal teaching philosophy underpins their decision to act more
like counsellors. Instead of making suggestions they ask questions
like, “What do you want to do?” and “How do you think you can achieve
that?” – the aim is for the individual to realise, for them selves what
they need to do to achieve their aims. Very well you might think but
due to cut backs even this service has been retracted and this major UK
university now offers no face to face careers service to students – it’s
cheaper to print such questions on a help card, or better still
“develop online resources”. This got me thinking; in the context of
failed ideologies the university is right up there. Governments have
bent university education to conform to vocational needs; it’s all about
employability. They have done this by forcing the cost of education
onto the recipient. This has two effects. Firstly the recipient takes a
financial risk, and is re-assured that they will be well remunerated
over a lifetime as a graduate. Secondly, a covert message is sent out
that higher education has no benefit except for the recipient, therefore
they should pay for it – there is no benefit to society as a whole (who
needs doctors, teachers, artists anyway?) so why should society pay?
Additionally this makes the student arse-kiss lecturers as they worry
about grades and references and how this will affect future job
prospects. Saddled with a huge debt the student runs to the careers
centre for re-assurance that it’ll be worth it and advice on how to
achieve their goals – only to be told that they need to figure it out
for themselves – there is no help (unless you want to pay for it
privately of course). Anyway, most industries operate on healthy
nepotism and you can always “network” by doing years of unpaid
internships. In this context a drunken, selfish and unhelpful careers
advisor is not a far-fetched as it may seem. The performance comments
on university life and the struggles that will follow after graduation.
John Walter tackled the failure of Modernism through a performance
exploring the break up of couples, using home made theatre costumes
reminiscent of Picasso’s
Parade which in turn dealt with the
horrors of the First World War through a Dada-esque ballet – as if the
only way to respond to the realisation that the Modern world of
industrialisation has just collapsed into mechanised slaughter, that all
that the machine promised us in terms of helping society and lessening
workloads has been reversed by taking away jobs and taking away lives,
the only way to respond to this is through absurdity. This reminded me of the Gaddafi quote
“If the world is crazy, we will be crazy too”.
Perhaps Circa 1960 isn’t just about failed Modernism in the 60s, but a
response to the absurd and frightening debt ridden situation we find
ourselves in today.
Karen Tang’s wall based sculptures are inspired by science fiction.
A Mass of Crystalline Tissue
is inspired by a JG Ballard quote both in its form and content – the
content being a distorted image of the magazine cover in which the quote
first appeared. The work goes one step further by crystals set into
resin to make the work a literal interpretation of the quote as well as a
meditation on the Ballard story. This piece is typical of Tang’s
sculptures in this show.
Decision Cave, however, is visually
different to the rest of her work. For a start it looks much more
organic, evoking the craftsmanship of tribal communities and shamanistic
practices that you could associate with such an object.
Decision Cave
differs from the other works in that it could be an actual object from a
sci-fi story whereas the other sculptures appear more as
interpretations. At the centre of
Decision Cave is a toy called a
Magic Eight Ball which
you use to answer questions. Its answers can be enigmatic, like the
oracle at Delphi. When I visited the show the words of wisdom were
“Outlook so so”. I don’t know if this changed throughout the show.
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Corinne Felgate, 'The Lady's Not for Turning'
Photo: Jimmy Merris. Courtesy: the Artist. |
Handbags play a surprising role in the show. Adrian Lee’s
Beuys/Vuitton Remade
is a Louis Vuitton handbag stuffed with fat and with felt patched on
the outside. I’m not aware of the original Beuys piece but assume that
it did exist as with
Portrait of the Artist as Tretchikoff’s Blue Lady
Lee draws our attention to the reproducible. It is said that the Blue
Lady (as confusingly known as The Green Girl and the Chinese Girl) has
been reproduced more widely than the Mona Lisa. It also revokes the old
high-art low-art debate especially when artists in the 1990s started to
cite him as a precursor to their ironic postmodern style. Perhaps it
is this play on “commodity” that points us towards the other handbag in
the show, which makes up part of
Corinne Felgate’s The Lady’s Not For Turning,
a bewildering series of sandpaper plinths with objects placed on them
in a manner not dissimilar to designer shop window displays, but this
time the handbag is made of clear resin encasing various types of salami
with a chicken foot, adorned with nail polish, perched on top.
Another work by
Felgate, Hair Brush, seems to be a
straightforward joke – the bristles of the brush as replaced with the
artist’s childhood hair. But then you are confronted with
Exponential Growth,
a chair entirely covered in hair – “cousin It” style, which is funny,
until you read the materials “Brazilian Human Hair and Wood”, then it
becomes disturbing. Where did she get so much Brazilian hair? Probably
from a Brazilian hairdressers, but you begin to wonder if it’s available
online – anything can be a commodity now we have the Internet. Perhaps
the display of
The Lady’s Not For Turning is intended to refer to commodities and in the context of
Circa 1960
we are reminded of the end of rationing and the rise of luxury goods.
Earlier work such as Austerity Measures (a Chanel handbag hand made from
a paper bag with gold leaf, marker pen and gaffa tape) appears to
confirm the link.
I made a visit to the project space on the 12
th January and met three of the artists.
Alastair Levy
has a practice rooted in 60s Minimalism. He feels that the last
hundred years has freed people to work in any way they want in a kind of
pick and mix culture, taking from previous styles. In his case
Minimalism and Conceptualism are raided. Levy has a series of differing
works in the space. A painting about the everyday was made by
stretching an old tablecloth over a frame. The tablecloth has been used
as a shower curtain for sometime and had recorded the marks of a daily
activity in the form of stains. A C.D. perched on a windowsill was
another artwork. It was exactly half filled with data. This links with
another work
Box Set (featured in the exhibition) where all
the paints from a Daley Rowley box set were mixed together to make a
bistre-brown which he used to cover a canvas. Both works are about
middle points. But Levy also had an ashtray on the floor with a half
smoked cigarette made from grass taken from the pitch at White Hart
Lane, and in other works he stages reconstructions of EBay photographs.
For Levy failed modernism means he can do what he wants.
Luke Ottridge was half way through his residency when we met. His
installation seems to me to be very much in the spirit of mocking
Modernism’s grandeur and I was pleased to see
Event Horizon
make the exhibition. The centrepiece of the installation is a copy of a
plaster bone from Texas, which in turn was a copy of a destroyed bone
from about 100 years ago. There is a creationist myth attached to the
story which supposes that this is evidence that angels walked the earth.
There is also doubt as to whether the original bone ever existed. The
bone sits on a circular “black hole” and is surrounded by the only 3D
shapes which are symmetrical. These refer to Platonic ideals and their
copies (referring back to the bone as a copy). Also around the whole
are a series of TV monitors depicting a blind man walking or stumbling
about. Ottridge speaks about the circular composition as a tool to echo
religious cults and in turn he sees the failure of the promises made by
utopian 1950s gurus as unfulfilled; coming to an end with the Charles
Manson murders.
The third artist I met was
Mark Selby,
who was yet to undertake his week-long residency. The only outcomes of
his that I saw were those in the exhibition. Where the unlikely
balance of
No Need to Shout confronts and has a comic feel to it (like Hong Kong Fuey jumping out of a filing cabinet) Selby’s other work,
Better Half, is different.
Better Half
is a tidy piece of conceptual sculpture in the form of a chair (no hair
on this one), half made in plywood and half Perspex. Selby challenges
us to judge which is the better half. Both halves are made with the
industrial precision of a Donald Judd so there are no clues in the
making to give away Selby’s own position. The naturalistic wood could
be seen as nature re-capturing the (failed) Modernist chair, like ivy
growing over a house. Or the Perspex could be seen as a triumphant
prosthetic enhancing the wooden structure, like a cyborg.
Better Half
works well as a seat of contemplation in the exhibition, encouraging us
to reflect on all of the works both individually and as a collective.