I am thinking about this exhibition business a lot recently. As part of the curatorial gang, it has been really interesting to look at everyone else’s work and consider how we’re going to present it. We’ve been categorizing everyone conceptually; this has proven to be really difficult because we’re such varied group with a massive range of ideas and motives, so the categories are really loose just to think whose work would fit together.
Although a key concept in my work is the rejection of the gallery space and the interaction with an unknown audience, I do feel like I would like to be involved in dNA in my own little way. But how can I present the unpresentable? I’ve been looking at the work of Martin Creed recently, his work is so funny, he basically mocks gallery traditions, his work is concerned with the line between something and nothing. Really just questioning what exactly an art piece can consist of, he subtley intervenes with the gallery space...
Work No. 121: A crumpled ball of paper in every room in a house 1995 A4 paper Installation at the Swiss Institute, New York
Work No. 270: The Lights Off
2001
Ok, so I need to consider what would be appropriate to put in the show and how I can present it so that it retains and enforces my ideas. Something very subtle that has very little presence in the show, a slight intervention, an implication that somewhere, out there, I do exist...
This is the work of Australian artist Poppy Van Oord - Grainger, she paints tiny pieces on pavements that respond to the surroundings. These beautiful pieces are so tiny they could easily be missed, but as people often walk with their heads down it might just catch the glimpse of a random passerby. It is interesting to consider ownership, obviously they can’t be bought, and they are rejecting the gallery and high art, driven by the notion of “art for all”, for anyone who cares to notice. Could it be a gift? Who for? And do they even want it?
Last night marked the start of something special. Well, maybe not so special, but yes it did mark the beginning of my invasion, after a bottle of wine armed with epoxy glue, a spreader and a handful of tiles I began my mission. Ok, so it wasn’t too successful, I had adhesive issues which basically resulted in me with sticky fingers, I’m going to look into better ways of fixing them, but it made me realise just how fun this is going to be.
I’ve been traipsing around old Leeds for a couple of weeks and marking out my locations, I’m definitely more inclined to place them in the nooks and crannies of the city, corners, posts and signs, where they will exist, in plain sight. It is so exciting to consider just who will see them and what their response is going to be. Will I ever know if they’ve been seen? Probably not. Do I want to confuse people? Probably yes. Well not confuse, perhaps just, for a brief moment someone passing by will spot my piece, and perhaps think about it, maybe for a second, maybe not at all. I think this is what I find most interesting about doing this piece. I love the enigma about the whole thing.
In consideration to my locations, I’m developing on an idea which has been driving my pinhole antics, based on the quote by Georges Perec, “What Happens When Nothing Happens?” I am really interested in art and the everyday, the idea of banality, moments of nothingness and I thought about developing this to..."Where Do You Look When You're Not Really Looking At Anything”. Ok its not as snappy but yes, the idea of a time when you’re wandering around in a bit of a daze, not really looking at anything, where do you look, what do you see, what do you notice etc.
I like to think my work would catch the eye of a wanderer. I always return to the city when looking for inspiration, watching the people go by, seeing what they do, how they interact with each other. Strangers are so fascinating, people you don’t know and will probably never see again, for a moment they enter your life and then they are gone. Ephemeral moments. I’d like to think I’m leaving something for these people, for people I don’t know, maybe they will see them, maybe they won’t. Who knows?
A load of what ifs. What if I were to make a decent piece of art? What if I were to get over myself for a second and think of my work as more than a joke, a respectable piece of artwork that has good concepts and is visually interesting and was worthy of presenting? What if I decided I was so good that people must buy me, I will change your life and make all your wildest dreams come true, blow up my bastard pieces to mega sizes and sell them as abstract decorative pieces that someone with a nice fancy house and delusions of grandeur needs to display in their drawing room to show how cultured and interesting they really are.
Well, this is what it would look like. Not too unrealistic, I mean for a second I reckon I could pull of presenting them as abstract pieces. I did think of this before I got pissed off and cut them all up. Perhaps instead of hiding the flaws I could embrace them, that’s what that would mean if I was going to do that. Nah, I don’t think I can ever go back now, it’s just not as fun. Back to the bin for me....
Another opening! This time at the Hope Gallery called White: Four Artists Whose Work Has Absolutely Nothing In Common Except For The Lack Of Colour on the 10th March 2009. I really like this name for the exhibition, a bit cheeky and spelling out pretty much what we were going to get, reminded me of some of the names for Martin Creeds work i've been looking at recently, e.g Blu-tack kneaded, rolled into a ball and depressed against a wall. We didn’t have a clue where the place was so we got a taxi, the driver wasn’t very helpful either and we’d given up hope when we came across this tiny gallery tucked away down a side street in the outskirts of Leeds. It seems like they didn’t want to be found either, the instructions on the leaflets they were given away weren’t exactly descriptive!
So, yes, White exhibition. We walked in to see a couple of groups standing around chatting, a very small turnout as can be expected considering its location. There were loads of milk bottles on the floor and some cow biscuits on the side, this was a piece by Alice Brooke – Smith who was clearly going for the old relational aesthetics business, the audience were encouraged to pick the bottles up, drink them, throw them away, although we wouldn’t have got this if we didn’t see everyone else doing it, I think sometimes with these relational things you need to be led by example and it turns people into sheep. On the leaflet it says she’s interested in, amongst various other things, disobedience. So this implies the artist would have liked it if we did something a bit daring with the milk, but what exactly would have happened if we started throwing it around or something, I don’t think the gallery owners and other artists would have been best pleased.
In the middle of the gallery were forms created by Leen Horsford, I never really get too interested in sculptures to be honest, the work was about processes to create forms and the physicality of materials which I guess I should be doing for this brief at the moment if I was good. They were presented from the ceiling to accentuate weight and height and draw attention to the architecture of the space. The forms were hung on metal hooks, like big bits of meat or something, so being clean and white contrasted this, I don’t know if the artist took this into consideration, perhaps a hook was just the best way to hang the material. There were some 2D pieces on the wall, some attached to the wall using pins, displayed in an orderly manner, didn’t find these of that much interest really I was too excited about free milk. We spoke to the gallery owner for a bit, they were quite keen to give us some information towards how we can go about getting an exhibition and such, it was run by Music and Arts Production (MAP) who are supported by the National Lottery, I read into them and found they are a Leeds based arts organisation that provides alternative education for young people, providing a holistic approach in an arts environment. The work exhibited Hope Gallery ranges from community arts projects to professional exhibition from well respected artists. Yeah, seems really accessible to get an exhibition here, I liked the space and the fact that it was near impossible to find, a good way to filter out the weak and feeble ones from the audience. Good night anyway, we scored loads of free milk which we accidently left in the fridge at Carpe later on. Its alright though, we went back the next day and they still had it nicely chilled for us, thanks Carpe.
We attended the opening of this exhibition on 26th February. It displayed work by Samantha Donnelly, Cornelia Parker, Paul Rooney, Rachel Whiteread, Katy Woods and Chris Wright, intended to be looking at the invisible and bring attention to moments of apparent nothingness.
I was quite excited to be seeing some of Cornelia Parkers work, I saw a piece of hers in Boston over the summer and it loved the concept of resurrecting materials, rescuing them and reanimating them. The way in which she suspends the fragments gives the sense of time pausing is really beautiful. The fragments in the gallery space were attached to a metal grill in the ceiling, which we were told was not how they were intended to be presented. I think as an artist you have to be able to compromise with the gallery, this one being a small and probably lower budget gallery I think they went for the easiest way of hanging up the pieces, I felt being able to see all the fixtures and fittings for this piece took away some of the impact.
The concept of invisibility and minimalism that they were going for could have been reinforced by the presentation. Obviously, the Met gallery aren’t really going to refurbish the entire space for an exhibition, but I felt certain aspects of the place did take away some of the power from the work. For example, the “3D doodles” created by Samantha Donnelly were quite intricately made and delicate, but were presented on thick, blocky shelves against an off white, textured wall. Perhaps the delicacy of the sculptures could have been enhanced by a delicate, barely there shelf against a pristine wall? I felt the lighting could have been more focused as well, it was very strong and mainly overhead, reading about them the concept of drawing attention to overlooked moments, by using softer or maybe more focused light this could have been addressed and it would have created some beautiful shadows as well.
There were some headphones mounted on one wall which the audience were invited to take and use. I think sometimes in these galleries you’re a bit too afraid to touch anything, you never know, headphones could be some sort of bizarre art piece, but no it was a sound piece that we could listen to. Some seats were provided so we could sit and listen for a moment. The piece was by Paul Rooney, called Words and Silence, which focused on winning back moments of time – quiet moments of sanity or something. I like listening to sound pieces in galleries, it does actually mean it is just you and the work for a moment; it is quite special to be given a moment alone with the piece and to shut yourself off from whatever going on around you.
Violet and I went upstairs for a bit but we weren’t sure if we were allowed up there, there was some video and a load of photographic lights set up, we didn’t actually think anything of this and came back down but now I’ve read about it, it was actually a piece!
I felt the audience was primarily art folk with nose piercings having serious discussions about art in secluded groups. It was quite a young audience, probably students from the Uni’s and our college or emerging artists. I don’t think people outside of the “art scene” would have even known about this, or even if they did felt like they were allowed to go. I do find it a little daunting going to openings, it does feel like being a bit of a gatecrasher for some reason, we mainly come for the free wine anyway and i think they tend to suspect that. There were a couple of invigilators who were quite polite but didn’t really engage with anyone, only to tell us off for touching the Whiteread piece to find out if they were made of jelly, the pieces were something that you did find inclined to touch, i’m not sure if the artist would have minded people touching them but we weren’t allowed. Also we got told off again when Violet walked out with the headphones in her hand, but that was understandable.
Work No. 121: A crumpled ball of paper in every room in a house
Work No. 270: The Lights Off
