Tuesday 25 September 2012

Young London at V22

23 September – 11 November 2012

V22 Workspace
F-Block
The Biscuit Factory

On exiting the tube station at Bermondsey there's one massive escalator that takes you from the platform to the station level. Unusual for a London underground station is the way it takes you up in such a stately fashion, through what can only be described as a massive concrete cathedral. However, unlike the impressive and peerless structures of the gothic architects, where stone was made to appear weightless, you feel very acutely the massive bulk of the walls, the tremendous force that they hold up, and the thick steel reinforcement that keeps the soil and whatever else composes the substrata of London at bay. And it makes me feel a sense of awe as I consider the sublime glory of man and machine against the simple weight of the natural world. In this open cavernous immensity I find myself thinking 'and that is how far underground I am', for once able to have a sense of place, or at least a sense of my place as I journey through the thick of things.

Entrance of V22

What a fitting start then, to an evening which involves not just cavernous post-industrial spaces, of which V22 is an excellent example, but of getting a rare sense of one’s overall place in the matrix of new contemporary art in London. Housed in an old biscuit factory, the exhibition halls are one side of a massive converted studio complex. Approaching the small, non-descript entrance it’s hard not to feel dwarfed by the featureless bricked façade. I cannot emphasise enough how much the character of the space impacts the feel of the exhibition. This is far from a white cube, and the scale, drab materiality and sense of emptiness left by something that was once there, provide an arresting backdrop to the artwork.


The exhibition is comprised of an entrance hall (including a ‘Fashion line and concept store’ by LuckyPDF), and two enormous rooms, almost equally divided between darkened space showing video and projection, and space for sculpture and installation, but apparently not painting! The closest we come to any painting is the large scale wall works by Aaron Angell of geometrical shapes comprised of torn paper ‘collage’. However, it’s also true that this is a space that isn’t really made for painting, such that its omission could be put down to a ‘it’s not you it’s me’ kind of excuse.

Entrance Hall, No Fixed Abode's Sun and
 Moon Futures
in background

LuckyPDF, S/S 2013 Young London Collection
View of exhibition hall
A collage by Aaron Angell

I’m left wondering what the aim of the show is. Is it to showcase the ‘best’ art that is being made by young emerging artists in London, or is it to put forward a vision of what one wishes the London art scene to become? In this type of exhibition I keep thinking about how what is omitted betrays the un-ascribed curatorial vision behind it. No figurative work, except for the appearance of people in videos. And this is not a group who is concerned with anything overtly to do with politics, or current events.  I saw instead an emphasis on abstract texture and colouration. Whether it was the pieces of torn photocopied paper wrapped around structures (which ended up creating the illusion of slabs of marble) by Peles Empire, Samara Scott’s mixed media sculpture, or even the patterned clothing produced by LuckyPDF, repetition and materiality was present. I also would consider Sophie Michael’s Chapters One to Five (2012) 16mm projection as part of this trend, for her use of intense colouring and patterns.


Detail of A33D 1-4 by Peles Empire

Detail of work by Samara Scott

Still from Sophie Michael's Chapters One to Five 

Detail of fabric at LuckyPDF


I really enjoyed the enormous video space, and I thought that the large projections by Ciarán Ó Dochartaigh, Hans Diernberger and David Swan were especially effective. Ó Dochartiagh’s Spigotty Anglease (Odradek)(2011) was mesmerising. It featured a close-up view of a fishing lure appearing as decadent and sumptuous as a precious jewel, as well as shots of the dynamic flinging curves of a line against a backdrop of green.  


Still from Ciarán Ó Dochartaigh's Spigotty Anglease (Odradek)

The smaller works on monitors got lost in the space, and I suspect could have benefited from more controlled viewing. Minae Kim’s Behind the Scene (2012) (which I first mistook for lighting), conveniently emitted a soft yellow light over the entire space, and appeared like a beacon amongst the darkness.

Benedict Drew's installation NOW, THING
Also of note was Hans Diernberger’s large-scale video projection Jupiter (2009) which shows a man in a suit standing on ice in front of an industrial fan. Every minute or so the fan turns on and the suited gentleman is seemingly pushed many metres away by the gale-force wind.  The projection is large enough to be life-sized and I chose to see this rhythmic expulsion as metaphorical of the distancing of issues to do with the body or society. This human represented in this video is a concept, rather than a specificity.Benedict Drew showed NOW, THING (2012) an installation with video projection, guitar amps and a snare drum which also very humorously viewed the human as an object among objects, as opposed to assigning him a special status.


I was disarmed by Samara Scott’s collection of air fresheners. Anchored next to a column, they became a jarringly domestic intervention in the space, both in their diminutive scale and with their faint scent of ‘happy clean home/flower garden’ that contrasted brilliantly against the grey, concrete floors. I was drawn to her palette of pastel pinks, oranges and powdery blues on her other sculptures.


Air fresheners, part of Samara Scott's me time 
Part of Samara Scott's installation

As I think back to the show, I am left feeling as if I have just seen a degree show.  There is so much work that is speaking to different concerns that has been placed together, in a perhaps aesthetically intriguing way, but not necessarily with intention and respect for the practices of each artist. It is a mash-up at best, full of ‘interesting moments’ but quite difficult to pin down as a whole.

What is the relevance of this show? What does it say about the world? What is Young London? Well, they are poor. They use cheap, often low status, materials. They use video, probably for the same reason, to greater effect (especially HD). They are done with issues of representation, have no use for gender politics or social issues at large, but are extremely sensitive to the fragile and beautiful character of the world around them, or at least the world accessible to them. They re-use, they salvage (No Fixed Abode, Sun and Moon Futures, 2012) and set up their own shops (LuckyPDF).

In focusing on materiality though, I feel as if an opportunity for the work to take on greater significance has been lost. Arresting and pretty though many of the pieces were, they didn’t challenge my perceptions about the world, or make me feel uncomfortable or questioning of my place in it. At a time when so much social unrest is happening, when we are being confronted with many important questions about how to move forward, where are the voices proposing a new future? Unfortunately, I fear they may be broke. In this modern-day cathedral created out of the death of industry, the revolution still waits. 




Friday 21 September 2012

Ed Atkins at Chisenhale


Ed Atkins
Us Dead Talk Love

21 September - 11 November 2012

I was one of the early ones to arrive at the Chisenhale Gallery tonight, when still only a few were waiting for their friends to show outside this old brick warehouse on the eponymous street in East London. Later on the crowds would swell and grow as the day grew fainter, a mixture of new kids on the block (‘emerging’ artists?) and art professors, real intellectuals. I got a kick out of seeing Oscar Murillo there, and immediately Columbian music and fond memories of endless champagne and fruit tarts (less endless, though very tasty) at his recent ‘performance’ at the Serpentine pavilion came to mind. By the amount of Goldsmiths students here, I can tell that Atkins is held in high regard, he’s brought out a crowd of a certain pedigree.

In the rear gallery space the artist’s video Us Dead Talk Love was already playing on loop. Two big screens are set up at one end of the room, angled slightly towards each other, and around the other half of the room, 8’ high panels leant against the wall, with what appeared to be large black and white photocopies of pillows and beds affixed to their surface with masking tape. The space is a classic white cube (or rectangle) lined up in the centre were several rows of chairs, and it’s quickly filling with people. There’s a surround sound system which really helps to complement the high-tech animated head in the video (described ominously in the statement as a cadaver), whose voice is filling the space with meandering thoughts about love, hair, eyelashes, foreskin and relationships.



--

It’s the next day now, and I’m reflecting back on the show. It leaves me apathetic. My first response on being in the space was to be dazzled, or at least placated, by the CGI-animated head, the well-mixed and very hip music, and the excellent quality of the sound system and fabrication of the screens. But the length of the work begins to wear on you. The superficial, visual elements are consistent throughout, there is not really any narrative, beginning, middle or end. I can only hope that it is the artist’s intention to test the viewer’s patience for what could best described as a monologue by a self-obsessed, decently-educated though highly unoriginal, somewhat-read, spoiled, depressive, young British man. The face only makes a limited range of movements, so that I’m constantly aware of its repetitiousness, this guy only has a few moves. I’m left wondering if this is what it’s like to be the girlfriend of a young, emotionally fragile, yet egotistical, male artist.  There are brief choirs of (digitally produced?) voices that repeat certain words as this whinger regales us with his inner monologue about relationships and ‘intimacy’ without much content or thoughtfulness beyond the solipsistic enjoyment of the sound of his own voice, which is so carefully edited in all of its insipidity.


I haven’t seen Atkins work in person before. Others tell me that this piece is very similar to previous work, that the themes are a continuation, however, at around 40 minutes, a much longer one. One would expect that length would create the opportunity to explore a structure or at least a progressive arc. The lack of any modulation and the monotony of the voice (although carefully delivered and accompanied by music which reminded me of recent Eddie Peake performances at Cell Project Space and the Tate Tanks), initiated in me a slow build-up of annoyance and mild disdain.

So what does this work say about the world? As I look back on what I’ve written now I feel a bit silly for having been drawn into what is quite frankly an emotional judgement of an avatar, but maybe that’s the point. This could be our digital future. Better music, higher resolution, but still modelled on essentially flawed human personalities. This may well be the malfunctioning disk for ‘hipster boyfriend circa 2012’ that in the future we might insert into our i-players for company or to let us live an ‘experience’ for kicks. What is the future of intimacy in a technologically mediated world? Indeed, Atkins has used the medium most suited to drawing out the complications of progress. We push technology further every day, yet we remain still limited and flawed, tied to our repetitive and unoriginal drives and typical psychological hang-ups. The capabilities of technology are in high contrast with the fallibility of the mind and ego.



The end of the night.



Thursday 20 September 2012

Peckham Artist Moving Image Festival


19th September 2012
www.pami.org.uk

It’s getting cold in London these last few days. Autumn is almost here and, despite the chill, I am enjoying the clear blue skies. As I take the bus from New Cross to Peckham for PAMI (Peckham Artist Moving Image Festival) the setting sun bursts out from behind long, dark blue clouds, at an angle that practically blinds me for a few moments as I step out on to the street. It’s always great to come to Peckham for shows, I love the ‘show’ of the main street, Rye Lane, which is filled with every imaginable business. There is so much visual information to look at, posters for cell phone deals, fruit and vegetable sellers, pound shops, spicy food restaurants, and salons with garish brightly coloured walls, full of ladies getting their hair and nails done. The energy of this market follows me as turn past Peckham Rye station and head down a quiet street to the first gallery.


Left: MOCA Project Space

At MOCA project space, there was a three-videos show called Myopia Sparkles curated by Harriet B Mitchell and including work by Jennifer West, Edith Dekyndt and Shana Moulton. The films included a 16mm (but transferred to dvd) abstract film, a video showing a hand cupping a whirling mercury-like substance, and a third narrative film involving a lot of strangely implanted people and obvious green screen work, with soundtrack. The placement of the work in the exhibition space felt balanced, with a variety of approaches to the moving image from abstract to narrative; from physical to digital maneuvers. The use of colour was striking in all three videos, the soundtrack of Moulton’s felt strangely like something I would listen to while getting acupuncture. The bizarre mixture gave a sense of feeling a bit in an altered state, but a calm and perceptive altered state. I was pleasantly surprised to see 16mm, and as I look at West’s notes I see that the film leader was “lined with liquid black eyeliner, doused with Jello Vodka shots and rubbed with body glitter”, a very physical intervention to create a moving image, a characteristic which made it stand out from anything else I would see that night.

Left: MOCA Project Space

Another notable video was the extremely short (40 seconds!) work by Adrianna Palazzolo at Flat Time House. Spliced between two videos involving cats (not sure if this was coincidence), Palazzolo’s work featured images of a rose and found footage from a documentary about consciousness in plants. Both had been substantially altered through processing, with many jagged cuts to the picture, like the fragmented jerky image that happens when you pause your vhs. The degradation of the video contrasted with the image of a perfect beautiful rose and seemed to imply a kind of disturbance in quite an unsettling and sinister way. The darkness and subdued quality of the work really stayed with me, and it’s one I would like to have seen again, on a larger screen to really appreciate the manipulation of the image and the rhythm of the editing.

At Sunday Painter they showed Wallpapers, a collaboration between Vancouver artists Nicolas Sasson, Sara Ludy and Sylvain Sailly. The upstairs room had one wall entirely filled with a projection of a pixilated moving surface, sort of like a gif of a thousand bacteria swarming under a microscope. This was one of my favourite exhibitions. The space is large and this greatly benefits the installation. The ‘wallpapers’ can also be found on-line (http://www.thesundaypainter.co.uk/), but one of the charms of seeing it in the gallery is feeling like a miniature person dwarfed by a giant computer screen. Or perhaps the screen becomes a window into another digital world. We used to watch waves from the picture window, now we contemplate the endless undulations of what is essentially a large-scale version of a screensaver.

Right: Watching video at FoodFace

The exhibition at FoodFace was entitled Grander Designs, and is an on-going collaborative video project headed by Myles Painter, showing videos made by artists based on footage from the original television series Grand Designs, featuring six video played alternatingly between three monitors. I saw the submissions by Gareth Owen Lloyd and Joseph Popper as well as Myles Painter and found them humourous but perhaps limited given the fact that the artists had to work with ‘predetermined sections’ of tape. I was more intrigued by the strange excavations of dialogue appropriated in Painter’s work, where the source was less predominate and original dialogue had been altered to sound like the gravelly voices of ‘anonymous’ crime victims giving television interviews.

What did I see tonight? A lot of collage, a lot of mixing from original sources, sampling. Very modest work, nothing world changing, but definitely charming.  The thing about going to moving image festivals is that there is often so many works by so many people, which you only get to really see a few depending on when you arrive, that I’m left with a sense of seeing so many fragments. Many things I wouldn’t mind seeing twice, having a moment to digest them, seeing what repetition does to the meaning. Works that were shown in larger spaces, such as at Sunday Painter and MOCA project space really benefited from them. Most of the art here felt small and quirky, and the evening felt like little hiccups of somewhat digested visual culture. I sense the potential for some of these works to be ‘greater’ actual physical experiences on a large screen, but unfortunately I was left wanting. What does this say about our culture? It speaks to the incessant mixing of sources that we encounter daily, to our love of the mundane, and of cats. The evening left me feeling sentimental about pixels, 16mm film and Youtube videos, and reminded me of how much of our lives and sense of place are formed by the ephemeral experiences of moving images, most of them not ‘high culture’.  It is a medium that we all have such personal experiences on own ‘personal’ computers and private living rooms, that it was a pleasure to see these sources reconfigured and presented on a public scale, and to get some sense of the gentle humour, unexpected narratives and calming familiarity of digital culture. 


Welcome to my new blog!

Articula will be following new shows in London, giving context to the work shown and focusing on my experience going to exhibitions. It will offer critique, appraisal, thoughts and perspective on the very latest shows. Hope you enjoy reading, thanks for visiting!