Blogs blogs and more blogs

I have made a blog for my personal work - like we were going to do within the critical course. If you fancy follow my ramblings then it would be lovely if you guys add me, otherwise ill be writing to myself which is a bit sad really...take pity (you should be able to add me through my profile)

Thanks a bundle, make sure you've all applied your suncream.

John Henry Newts

Critique

Trekking the length of Vyner Street checking out the latest East End offerings, I find myself under whelmed and quite uninspired, and taking heavy steps down the narrow concrete stairs of the tiny One in the Other basement gallery it’s ‘last chance saloon’.

In such a small space you can feel ‘captive’– particularly when you decide that the art is not to your liking before your feet even reach the bottom step. Disconcertingly, in this gallery, you can pretty much scan the contents of the exhibition from half way down the stairs without even properly entering the space. How long do you need to stay to make it not seem impolite to the lone gallery assistant or can you turn around immediately and retreat back up the steps?

On this downbeat day I was immediately assaulted by the work on show at this halfway point.

Attacked by the physicality of the pieces within the constrained space I launched straight into my own counter investigation rather than pick-up a press release for an immediate insight into the artist and their work.

Navigating the limited floor space around a large unwieldy construction of random plywood panels – uneasily fixed and revealing in glimpses a rather forbidding inner sanctum through small crevices along its edges. The work “speaks” with a poetic balance between the unconventional use of its building materials and an unorthodox practice of construction. There is a definite impression that the ‘shelter’ could collapse at any moment under slight stress but in spite of this it remains inviting in its offer of possible refuge.

All these rough and ready manifestations belie the actual formal sculptural experience that the artist undoubtedly has and mask a canny deceit. One that I personally think is used truthfully and makes us question what really ‘matters’ and what it really ‘is’ about the spaces we inhabit – physically and metaphysically – ‘how’ we exist as we go about our daily navigation.

The solidity of a long cylindrical mass snaking its way across the gallery floor appears immovable and weighty in the extreme. You might wonder how it made its way into the constraints of this gallery. On closer inspection, it is made of polystyrene – the surface of this conversely lightweight object lightly smeared with a concrete mix.

Standing back in the little pockets of space available and reflecting within space, it is the seemingly effortless way in which the space itself is used, the equally haphazard ways the sculptures are built, alongside the nature of materials used that strike with a physical assault on the body, mind and senses.

The scale and intensity of the works contained within the gallery is surely exactly as intended and not just over zealousness. If like me, you feel the air to breathe is being sucked out of the gallery by the work as you wend your way around; you can in contrast take a deep breath as you re-emerge above ground to reflect on the force of the work.

Now carrying a press release it confirms that for sure the artist in question can only be Phylidda Barlow. Barlow extends to us an innate understanding of space and placement. The label “stuff” that is regularly applied to her practice – everyday materials, roughly made objects, messy fixings - implores us to respond to the physical and mental forays of our own “stuff” and that can be no bad thing.

In contrast to her monumental scale exhibitions like Peninsular at the Baltic, Gateshead, it is a wonderful delight to experience this show in an intimate vacuum of space.

Brake – Phylidda Barlow

One in the Other, London

April/May 2009

The Magic of the Cup

Get the drinks in. I’ll grab the lucky table while it’s free.
Ok.Usual?
Of course.

He wasn’t usually superstitious. But the team hadn’t lost in the Cup since Joe could remember switching from his regular pint to having a Guinness before each match. Some bad habits are good ones. Especially if you believe them to be.

Pete brought over the drinks. The lucky table was theirs. Yes!

Thanks.
Is Stan coming?
Yeah. Bringing an old mate apparently.
Who’s that then? Anyone I know?
Some bloke he used to work with, think he said. He worked abroad for a bit didn’t he? I can’t remember much about it though.
Somewhere East.
Probably.
Well I hope he doesn’t jinx us. I’m getting nervous.
You’d do well to cut all this superstition out. You can’t live with it all the time.
It’s only a bit of fun.

Joe was nervous though. He didn’t like the idea of another person invading their regular pre-match drink. Especially as it was being televised today. The cameras always brought them luck.

Before too long Stan arrived, wearing, Joe was pleased to note, his early 80’s era away shirt. Good sign that. However, he wasn’t too pleased about Stan’s friend who appeared from the far bar wearing the opposition’s colours. Not that he didn’t like having a bit of banter with rival fans. Just not on Cup days. Before the match. Disrupting the build up. He could feel the pressure mounting.

Stan’s mate was drinking from a tankard. One of those pewter type of things.

Twat.
Joe immediately thought,
I bet he thinks that’s a lucky tankard.
He started to bite his nails.

Hi. Sam.

Stan’s mate, Sam, thrust his huge hand towards Joe. Joe hesitantly shook it. He wasn’t feeling too great by now. He could feel his hand getting clammy. He had to let go of these irrational thoughts. Sequences don’t matter. It’s illogical. It doesn’t matter. It was no good though. He was on the verge of losing it. He didn’t even know this bloke but he was hating him more and more by the second. He realised all his mates were staring at him. Why did Stan have to bring him? Why couldn’t they have had their pre-match pint in the usual way? It’s no good. Gonna have to go. But I always do the pre-match piss last. If I go first I’ll jinx it. Gotta go though. Bastard.

They won the Cup that year for the second season running.

The Monkey’s Paw – an interpretation

The small market town was curiously empty on this oddly stormy morning in May. As the clock tower opposite the pharmacy struck seven, nearly all the townsfolk turned sleepily and dreamily in their warm beds. The circus, camped in a muddy field on the town’s outer edge for the last seven days, had provided much welcome merriment to all the young, old, rich and poor of the town alike. The travelling company was under the instruction of their ringmaster to hastily pack away the last vestiges of their belongings in order to leave the murky backwater within the hour and head ever onwards on their journeying. As most slept on peacefully little did they know they would never see this band of artistes again or for that matter any others.

At this exact same time, three seemingly unremarkable characters were making their separate ways to the Pharmacy along the three narrow and rough streets that joined at the town’s centre. Edward Smithers wilfully strode along, struggling to keep his wide girth on an even trail whilst at the same time fixed on the fact that the pharmacist could provide something to relieve the persistent and raging headache he had now had for 7 days. Young Mary Scott welcomed the reprieve to be outside, even in such forceful elements, just to be away from the wretched tyranny of her employer’s house where she skivvied but was equally anxious about the errand she was about to undertake. Samuel Cartwright, currently the youngest surviving son of Charles and Charlotte Cartwright, just seven years old, hopped and skipped his way towards the shop with all the unfettered excitement of a child who has the hope of the world lain at his feet.

In an uncanny collision, all three arrived at the sturdy, paint peeled door of the Pharmacy at precisely the same instant . Momentarily oblivious of each other’s presence, the door swung open with a loud forceful creak and a clattering bang as the doorknocker hit the inner wall – aided, it seemed, by the wind - beckoning them in from the cold and wet.

Once inside it struck them all immediately that something was awry … Mr Caruthers, the usually jovial and talkative pharmacist was sitting moribund on the rickety visitor’s chair beside his counter, his eyes subdued and eerily glazed. Without uttering a single word he shakily pointed to the door leading to the room at the back of the shop – a room that he never allowed customers to enter.

Edward Smithers, already impatient with the irregularity of the situation and his headache raging all the more, bumbled towards the door and flung it open. Mary and Samuel followed behind in turn, Mary a little more hesitantly and nervous and Samuel with an uninhibited curiosity. The strange and unsettling sight that met them was enough to momentarily assuage all their individual concerns as it threw their thoughts further askew.

The small, damp, gas-lit room was otherwise empty except for a small wood table on the far side, which upon inspection they found held three sheets of rough parchment, an elaborately carved quill pen and a bottle of jet black ink. However, it was the other table placed along the nearside wall behind the door through which they’d entered that caused most alarm. Each recoiled in a mixture of horror and fascination on seeing the contents of the bell jar placed upon it … a clawed, withered and scabrous monkey’s paw. The appendage’s gnarled, browned claws appeared to scratch at the glass bottle top as though about to break free at any moment. Both Mary and Samuel screamed out in terror as Edward stepped hastily backwards in disgust.

The piercing cries masked the sudden appearance of a fourth presence in the room. It was not Mr Caruthers who, should anyone have been close enough by, could be heard faintly murmuring under his breath, his mutterings practically unintelligible “… think very carefully, think very carefully, don’t do it, consider all the possibilities …”. No, it was a different presence altogether, a striking character the likes of which not normally seen in this quiet town. An old man, and in Samuel’s eyes an ancient man, wearing an elaborate top hat and tails took up position in the very centre of the tiny room. Although his attire was somewhat torn and stained he made an imposing bearing as he asked the three alarmed customers to stand in line in front of him. I say he “asked” but it was more of a command than a request and delivered with such authority that not one of them hesitated at the alarming strangeness of the whole situation.

They stood in descending age order, Edward Smithers at twenty one years having recently celebrated his coming of age with a sumptuous party provided by his genteel parents; next Mary Scott her physical frailty and care-worn demeanour belying her fourteen years on this earth and lastly young Charles Cartwright still amused and thrilled by the turn of events and already anticipating the excitement of telling all his friends and anyone else who cared to listen all about this occurrence.

It was then and only then that the old man spoke … in a grave voice, so deep and resonant that it made the wick of the gas lamp flicker and cast dark wild shadows on the walls all around them.

“Having arrived at the pharmacy at the allotted seventh hour you are granted one wish each. You should stand before the monkey’s paw and carefully consider your fate in this world. Once and only once you are certain of your chosen wish take a step towards the table and in turn scribe out either your head or your heart’s greatest desire and it shall come true within the hour of your leaving the pharmacy. But be warned, not one of you should leave this room until each of you has completed the task.”

With that, a loud thud was heard from within the shop front as the murmurings of Mr Caruthers ceased. The lamplight flickered once more and as the room fell into darkness the monkey’s paw seemed to glow casting a fierce red glow over the three unsuspecting customers.

With their heads beginning to spin with wild thoughts of riches, fripperies and luxuries one by one they turned their glance back to the centre of the room. The only remnant of the old man’s presence was a faint sickly sweet smell that until then had gone unnoticed.

IT IS NOW OR NEVER.

London's biggest university- London Metropolitan University- is in the grips of a MASSIVE FINANCIAL CRISIS threatening the entire future of the university.

The Government recently found that London Met had been returning inaccurate figures to them regarding the number of students enrolled. This was incredibly serious as London Met receives money per student- since the government with wrongly told that the university had more students than it did, it received way too much money. The government found out and has asked that not only the money for the last three years be repaid, but has also cut the university's budget by £15 million a year.

This is incredibly serious- a noose around the university's neck, if you will.

It was announced two weeks ago that the university's current plan to gain some of the money needed to repay the government is to axe the jobs of an unbelievably huge number of teaching staff. In doing this, the cure will in effect exacerbate the disease. By losing up to 40% (in some departments such as The Cass Dpt. of Art, Media and Design) of teaching staff we will not be able to continue receiving the standard of education we have been. The University cannot survive these cuts.

Many of you have already taken an active role in become student reps, coming to our meetings and informing more people of the situation. We now have politicians involved- we have written to George Galloway MP (many of the buildings lie within his constituency), David Lammy MP and Phil Willis MP. The NUS have been very active in our campaign and so have the relevant Trade Unions for the university's teachers and staff.

We are currently informing the press and media of the situation.

WE NEED YOU to attend this demo and make your voice heard. You CAN play an active part in the future of your university. On Wednesday the 28th of January, the Board of Governors will be meeting to discuss the future of the university at the Tower Building, Holloway Road. Several relevant members of the teaching staff have implied that the meeting should have a demo in front of it and are keen to join the students. This is a case of STUDENTS and STAFF uniting to steer the university away from demise and towards a brighter future, which is currently looking increasingly bleaker and bleaker.It is time for you to step up to the mark and say NO, we do NOT WANT TO LOSE OUR TEACHERS. We do NOT WANT TO LOSE OUR UNIVERSITY.

We expect to see you at 4pm, outside the Tower Building (Holloway Road) of London Metropolitan University, making your voice heard, sending your message to the governors. There will be banners and signs- please bring your own- along the lines of "DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS", "BRIAN ROPER- THE £276K MAN", "SAVE THE MET!", "SACK ROPER!", "LONDON'S BIGGEST UNI GOING UNDER!" etc.

BRIAN ROPER
Brian Roper is the Vice Chancellor of the University- the main man. He is the most highly-paid Vice Chancellor in the country, making £276k a year (before bonuses). If he wants to axe our staff, let him be the first. One of our main agendas will be to call for the immediate resignation of the Vice Chancellor. He has put a rope around our necks and by trying to remove it he is merely tightening it.Many members of staff will be protesting alongside us.

Do not fail your teachers, and do not fail yourselves- BE AT THE DEMO AND MAKE YOURSELF HEARD.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Protest Signs:
Any long piece of scrap wood or a bamboo stick will do, get TWO same-size pieces (per sign) of large, sturdy card (A2 probably best size) and paint a SHORT and CLEAR slogan/phrase on BOTH pieces of card. Staple the pieces of card together at the corners so that the phrases are effectively on both sides, then slide the wood/stick between them. Finally, staple the sign at the top and bottom to the wood/stick.It will also help to wear tshirts with slogans, or anything memorable and eye-catching.

SPREAD THE WORD!

(((I know this is not Critical Practice... but you know...)))

28

Photography Helen McMahon / Slideshow Lorna Pridmore

Exhibition title - 5 solutions

Version 1

In a world where everyone truly appears to be seeking their 15 minutes of fame – viz Big Brother, X Factor, Look Good Naked, 10 Years Younger and their stable mates – this performance and video work goes to the one area of life that has not yet been splayed open in the media for public consumption. 5 Solutions takes our fascination with the minutiae, the pain and the pathos of other people’s lives one step further, to an area of life not yet explored and exploited – the conspicuously private interaction between client and therapist.

This performance and video work builds on the classic Gloria videos from the 1970s. In the original educational series, Gloria, a young divorcee, took her problems to 3 different therapists – each masters in their therapeutic fields. As each worked with her in a one-off, hour long session, to find a solution to her issues, the sessions were recorded for student study. Over 30 years later they remain the only documented recordings of client/therapist interactions readily available.

5 Solutions takes this concept a step further. The exhibition starts with a performance piece on Day One, when 5 volunteer clients, each with a specific problem, visit 5 different therapists over the course of the day. These live sessions will take place in parallel, at set times throughout the afternoon and can be observed by the audience through one-way viewing windows. Audience members can move freely between the viewing rooms where the therapists will be working. Visitors to the exhibition may elect to dip in and out of the full range of sessions, to observe one session from start to finish, or to follow a client or therapist by staying with them through the course of the afternoon as they work with different people.

The hour long sessions sessions will be video recorded and on subsequent days the recordings will be played in each of the therapy rooms.

The 5 therapies have been selected from across the broad spectrum of what is termed ‘brief, solution focused’ approaches, providing very different and very visual illustrations of how therapeutic relationships are formed and solutions developed.

This work raises many questions about the nature of public exposure and the quest for fame, our right to privacy, and the fallacy of confidentiality and trust in this media savvy world.
On the final day of the exhibition the 5 clients, the therapists, the general public and the media are invited to a discussion of the issues raised by this performance piece.

NB Therapies will include CBT, NLPt, Provocative Therapy, Constellations and Art Therapy.


Version 2

Roger Hiorns comes straight to 5 Solutions after the success of Seizure, his installation in a derelict council house in Summer 2008. Variously described as ‘unexpected beauty nestling like glittering treasure’ (the Times); ‘a sci-fi nightmare, both fascinating and repellent’ (the Guardian); and ‘disorienting, luscious awful’ (Modern Painter); we anticipate this coming exhibition to be equally challenging.

Hiorns has stated that he likes to work with materials that take him out of the equation ‘that make me, the artist, disappear’ (The Tate). Despite this wish, his work with materials that transform and transfix is becoming something of a trademark: past works have used soap solutions, fire and copper sulphate, to bring the imaginary to life.

For this forthcoming exhibition Hiorns has taken the challenge to create site specific works using 5 different solutions, some of which he has not exploited before. As ‘an artist of emissions, of excess and the uncontrollable’ (Searle) his audience can look forward to inspirational new works in a stunningly poetic venue.

St Pancras Crypt – a damp, subterranean expanse of vaulted tunnels - lends itself perfectly to these works of such sublime beauty and mystery. 5 Solutions promises to be every bit as controversial as Hiorns’ previous shows – love his work or hate it, it cannot be ignored.

100 - 50 - 10 -1

10

Emotive
Personal
Emotional
Psychological
Interpretive
Challenging
Reflective
Questioning
Inspiring
Playful

1

Emotive

Manifesto

Version 1

My art is…
Expressive: My ideas, experiences, thoughts and emotions are brought to life in my work. The art is designed to communicate, to convey a message or concept.

My art is…
Motivating: The work is fun for me to plan, to make and create. It has a sense of purpose and direction. There is a sense of achievement for me in viewing the end result.

My art is…
Open: I am open to others’ suggestions and feedback and listen before I decide whether to embrace these views or not. I am open to new influences, new ideas, new skills and approaches. I don’t have a set style or medium and I plan to grow through, and with, my art without fitting into a specific category, style or camp.

My art is…
Tangible: Something will exist as an output of the process, be it text, painting, photography or 3d. The work has form.

My art is…
Imaginative: I aim to be playful in my interpretation, giving my creativity and imagination free-reign. I work around the short-term student limitations of time, skill and budget, finding other effective means to develop my ideas.

My art is…
Varied: To keep my passion alive I need to move on, learn new skills and explore different means of expression. My work is not about fine honing one idea, refining a technical skill to the level of expert or working on a life’s time project. Whilst I may revisit ideas and methods from time to time, the process and end product will be markedly different rather than an evolution of the previous work.

My art is…
Evocative: My work engages others at an emotional level, evoking a reaction, a memory, a response which stays with the viewer.

My art is.


Version 2

This manifesto is for :

• Those who don’t want to join a group, follow a leader or religiously adhere to a statement of beliefs about art or anything else
• Those who do not understand why anyone would want to write a manifesto (or come to that a blog, a message board comment, a letter to the Times, or a mission statement)

Er, that’s it.

bookbinding workshop

Some of you were interested in knowing about bookbinding workshops - the next one at East London printmakers is on 8th April see : eastlondonprintmakers.co.uk  

Mag