Where is MySpace? Filippo Minelli's "Contraddictions"
New Art Blogspot 01/10/2008 10:06
Filippo Minelli, Contraddictions series (ongoing)The ones I really like are the ones playing with the double meaning: DOUBLE LIFE, MYSPACE. But if they were left by themselves, I supposed I would have found them annoying. Too simple, too propagandesque.
Here, however, the artist creates a context, creating a whole network of worlds we know very well - from somewhere else.
And among those, the ones I really appreciate are the virtual worlds. YouTube written on an old wall in Phnom-Penh is great, because one of the things it says is: this is not virtual. This is here, it is a real place... And of course, as it is doing it, the contrast appears.
I only wish there were less photos, less brands. Otherwise, the entire set might seem a bit too vast, fleeing into the vagueness of the global companies.
Finishing off the Flesh Series
New Art Blogspot 23/09/2008 01:26
Found at Rebel:art among other (excellent) participants of the International Sticker Awards (to be announced on October 3) is this wonderful example of product sabotage, by Thomas Judisch. The sticker simply says "free sample". You can agree with the ideaology or not, but you have to admit it's ingenious to say the least.This can also be a vengeance of the vegetarians after all the flesh-fuss that has been appearing on New Art.
Body of Flesh: Pinar Yolacan's portraits
New Art Blogspot 21/09/2008 02:49
Age is violence. It is violence as in: power, and it is violence as the inevitable overpowering.
The women on the pictures from the Perishables series (2004) by Pinar Yolacan wear this age in a way that brings about strong feelings. Disgust? Humiliation? But why? Why is wearing meat so shocking? We do get it - the meat is just a continuation of what we are, it is as sacred or as profane as we wish to see it. So why does it seem so intensly profane? Why is it revolting?
The women on the pictures don't seem embarrassed. To the contrary - they know who they are. And they know how deep is skin-deep. And possibly because of their incredibly stoic stance, we reach another point - of acceptance, of peace.
There is a wisdom in these wrinkles that seems unbearably right. And beyond the purity of light, may I add - there is also pain.
The exceptional thing is - this pain is distinguished. And if you think it's because the subjects were WASPs, see Pinar Yolacan's the Maria series (2007).
Here are women from the Bahia region in Brasil, which was colonized by the Portuguese. And here, the flesh changes its value: it is not about age any more, but rather, about distinction and pride, but also submission and humiliation, about the color of skin and the heaviness of the-object-that-thinks. Maria is the most common Portuguese name - and in Brasil nearly every woman has Maria as one of her names. It is also a reference to the Virgin Mary, a reference that here challenges our thinking about holiness. Look at this raw, dark flesh, and see the purity.
It seems to me Yolacan does not really have a statement that guides her work
On blogging, the power of images and misbehaving
New Art Blogspot 19/09/2008 20:22
Here we are, now, entertain us.
In a comment to my last post, Matka wrote: Please, add a new piece soon! My internet explorer opens with your page and this work makes me seek [sick?] for a couple of hours.
Independent on whether this particular request should be executed or not, a serious issue creeps up behind: can we speak of a more or less bloggable material? Should we?
At first, there seems to be no doubt: a blog is personal by definition, right? The author decides what to put on it, and that's it?
Not quite.
1) Any reader of art blogs will notice blogs have formulas and tend to stick to them (this is not just the case of art blogs, obviously). So there is a topic, an approach, a way of writing and really, a "strategy". This can be a personal strategy, but it remains one.
2) In the case of art blogs, strong images work. That is, if you're looking for an audience, don't spend so much time writing: find attractive images. They can be shocking, but they have to be instantly rewarding for the spectator. And that's disgusting, dear Matka.
There's the rub: A blog is like a light version of a magazine. You drop by, take a glance, and in case of picture-filled blogs, if the image is not appealing, you move along. I see it in the stats, I know it (mea culpa) from autopsy. An art blog is, to a great extent, a mini-gallery. To a neophyte observer it might seem like people only take a glance and then leave. But after all, isn't it about those few that stay a while and dwelve deeper?
It's nice to be visited. And appreciated. And the more popular you are, the more, humm, popular you are.
The point is, it influences the choices you make. And all of a sudden, you know what sort of images work on the blog. And those are the ones you choose. Fast art consumption. It's nice, it's clean, we get it. Good, effective art.
Then the next step might be thinking about not offending Matka's tastes. And that's scary if you write a blog, (a personal page). But then, even if you don't go that far, the blog, the site, gains a life of its own. And thenyou start listening in on what it wants.
Come to think of it, it's not necessarily horrible. After all, it's also the wonderful feeling of an object coming to life, gaining an identity. Indeed, in the case of this blog this life has been continuing even during my absences. And that's a beautiful sight.
Yet it is still mine. Heheh...
And hopefuly, the lapse in Matka's text did make sense: beyond making her sick, the image also makes her seek for a couple of hours.
And in case it doesn't, here are a couple of replacement images.
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Oh, that this too, too solid flesh should melt
New Art Blogspot 19/09/2008 02:08
Not fit. (As if fit actually still meant fit for something). Too much body in the body. Too much flesh in the flesh. Too little shape. Too little containment. The form is amorphic. It isn't even interesting in its lack of shape.
Someone once told me he kept surprizing himself by how profoundly average he was.
What argument against it? Self-awareness? That's pitiful. I say, tie him up with a thin red line. Make him dance like a ham. Make him squeek, make him laugh. Now, cut the line.
And see how the marks fade away.
Ever so slowly.
The charming picture is by Alison Brady.
China?
New Art Blogspot 12/08/2008 13:12
Lace Fence is a product developed by the Dutch designer house Demakersvan. (And when one is not using it as a political statement, it is adorable)
Fly Me to the Moon
New Art Blogspot 29/07/2008 18:12
drawings by Vasco Morao.
Dream Away. Andrea Galvani
New Art Blogspot 26/07/2008 02:44
Andrea Galvani, La Morte di Un'Immagine #9 (2006)Have you ever witnessed something so beautiful it makes you angry? Something that makes you angry because it blows your entire scale, because it makes your delicate struggles for harmony ridiculous, petty, insignificant? This beauty that should elevate you, that should lift you up and carry you through the night, the beauty that is the inspiration and the core, is its exact opposite: smashing, unbearable, hard and cruel. It is a sunset that is just too magical, stars that shine too bright, or an event that seemed like the best of all performances. But what I mean is not perfection, it is beauty. It is not unnerving because it doesn't allow you to access it, like the perfection of the stone. It is unnerving because it takes away your ability to judge it, or what's worse, it's a type of beauty that takes away your ability to include it into your appreciation of beauty. It makes it silly to think of art, to create, to go to galleries and museums, to scan art blogs and dwelve into poetry. It leaves you lonely, ridiculously hanging on to an outdated scale or desperately trying to adapt it to something that corresponds more to what Kant calls the sublime - although the problem is, it is not sublime, it is exactly what beauty could have been, had you not already developed a different scale altogether.
I'm lucky: I forget. The taste fades quite quickly from my mouth, the text evaporates from my head, and so does the view of the sea after the storm. It all starts again for me, and what is left is like a bookmark, a sign that says "this was good" and maybe, maybe manages to reproduce some sort of a sensation of a sensation I had when it happened.
And then, sometimes, if one focuses on this memory, the memory starts growing a new head, one that is nothing like the previous one. One that does not compete in these subjective beauty contests, one that is at once much more raw and more constructed, that uses your imagination but somehow fits it together with whatever surrounds you, adapting the memory into an idea, transforming it into this weird creature that still has the body of a horse, but instead of the head has grown a thick, black cloud. Of balloons.
Delicious.
Thank you Andrea Galvani.
Marek Cecua. The sense of matter.
New Art Blogspot 22/07/2008 01:28
I must admit I had no idea Polish design (well, design-related sculpture would be the more correct term I suppose) can be anything like this.While I'm at it, I must also admit that the moment of becoming a little less ignorant, this moment of moving from a state of nothingness to the sudden illumination by something of this caliber is something delightful.
Last Supper (2003)
Porcelain Carpet (2002)
from the Hygiene series (1995)
from the Hygiene series (1995)
from the Eroticism series (2005)
from the Scatology series (1993)
It does not necessarily make sense. It does not necessarily say something, as in, a thing, as in, a message. It prefers to wink at us, like someone sitting in a waiting room winks at us, right after we finally managed to get our eyes of a gorgeous neighbor. Is that the "I know how you feel" wink? Or is it showing you he knows something both of you know he shouldn't and yet both of you know he certainly does? Is this something you share? A common interest? A common feeling of guilt? A feeling of risk, maybe? This winking, the one I feel when seeing Cecua's works (not touching them, unfortunately, although that seems a perverse desire), is one of recognition, but also one of daring sensitivity, if not always sensuality. Touching is key? No, come to think of it, the not-touching, here, is what drives the senses right to the matter.
More on Marek Cecua at his site.
The big Fuss: Who Killed Barack Obama?
New Art Blogspot 20/07/2008 23:00
Once again, Peter Fuss
His most recent work, exhibited at the Out Of Sth exhibition in Wrocaw (Poland) (which also has blu's animation on display) plays on our sense of reality.
What I like most about this work is something I didn't notice at first. The first reading, to me, was simple: knowing the fate of the liberal Americans who came to positions of power, it is difficult not to think of the risk Obama is facing. This also might be seen as a cool and lucid way of looking at politics. Can any ideal manage to survive? Isn't Obama, the Obama we know as fighting for "change", somewhat dead, already? Who killed him?
But what I really like about this work is not this seemingly political message. It is the way it portraits us and our own patterns of looking at reality.
The problem is not that Obama may get killed. The problem is our thinking of it as a fact. It is not Fuss's work that is cynical. We are.
Seeing the work on a billboard makes it even more obvious: we take it for granted that things are the way they are, and even if they aren't, too bad for the facts. The billboard is there, so Obama is dead. Who killed him? Guess who.