Archive for the ‘exhibitions’ Category

William S. Burroughs at The October Gallery

Monday, December 10th, 2012

All Out Of Time And Into Space is an exhibition of William Burroughs’ ‘art’ that opened last week and is on at The October Gallery (24 Old Gloucester Street, London WC1N 3AL)  until 16 February 2013. Burroughs’ cultural reputation rests as much upon his autobiography (rich kid who became a junkie, rich kid who killed his wife in a shooting ‘accident’ and got off scot free etc.) as on anything he actually produced. Influenced by Brion Gysin’s ideas on the cut-up (using collage in writing), back in the 1960s Burroughs produced The Nova Trilogy of experimental novels which are both interesting and entertaining. Burroughs was a better writer than Gysin and used his friend’s notion of cut-up literature to greater effect than its initiator. That said, Gysin was a good artist and Burroughs wasn’t, and it is no great surprise that some of Burroughs’ pictures come across as a very poor imitation of his friend’s calligraphic painting.

Worse yet are Burroughs’ collages, which are even more embarrassingly bad than his poor Gysin knock-offs. And then there are the ‘shotgun’ pieces including a ‘No Trespassing’ sign that Burroughs has shot holes through. To put it bluntly these ‘works’ are pathetic. Why bother after Niki de Saint Phalle’s shooting paintings anyway? To be charitable Burroughs appears fascinated by texture, but then that hardly makes up for the fact that his pictures suck. Many of his paintings are at first glance abstract but can also be viewed as containing figurative elements – such as two badly rendered figures representing men in British police uniforms (basically a couple of black blotches). Ultimately the pieces on show at The October Gallery look like an exercise in cynicism. Burroughs enjoyed a certain celebrity status and could sell bad art. So he knocked it out to make money. So what?

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!

A Bigger Splash Opening At Tate Modern

Wednesday, November 14th, 2012

As The Tate, and in particular Tate Modern, gets increasingly populist there is a curious disjunction between the art world insiders who attend the private views and the audience at whom these exhibitions are aimed. On my way in to the opening of A Bigger Splash: Painting After Performance I ran into Jemima Stehli, Milly Thompson and Coline Milliard, among others.

The first room was reserved for the biggest names – who even most of the tourists who flock to Tate Modern will recognise – Jackson Pollock and David Hockney. It was here I ran into Avi Pichon who told me he’d just returned to London from a trip home to Israel. Until I pointed it out, Avi had managed to miss Jackson Pollock’s Summertime (1948), which was laid out flat on a low plinth beneath a film of Pollock painting in his studio. Later Coline Milliard quoted a piece of the curational promotional blurb about Hockney’s painting A Bigger Splash (from which the show takes its title) that she featured in her Artinfo preview of the exhibition: “the painting becomes an artificial backdrop that opens up a theatrical space, implying the viewer’s entrance into its fictional role.” Milliard then told me (as she had told readers of her blog earlier that day): “Surely this is how all painting has operated since the Renaissance.”

Room 2 was where I ran into Tate film curator Stuart Comer and we exchanged a few words as I took in that this space was yet more familiar ground for me: Niki de Saint Phalle, Yves Klein, Giuseppe Pinot-Gallizio, and the Japanese Gutai group. Next came The Viennese Actionists, Hélio Oiticica, Jack Smith, Stuart Brisley etc.  – all names that will be instantly recognisable to anyone au fait with the more transgressive end of 1960s and 1970s art and anti-art. This was followed by a less successful room dedicated to the idea of identity transformation and then an equally strange transition to installations with a focus on single contemporary artists or artist groups.

I spent a long time hovering at the transition point between parts one and two of the show – not because I was looking at the work – this was the result of falling into conversation with Nicole Yip, who currently curates at the Firstsite Gallery. While the first part of the show was a bit too obvious from my perspective, most of the work in it is at least worth checking out. I didn’t see anything I liked in the second part of the exhibition, but I found the kitsch tat of the Slovenian IRWIN group particularly redundant and ridiculous. IRWIN’s tosh is an embryonic and poorly thought through form of institutional critique that apes totalitarian forms and often ends up appealing to male adolescents (of all ages) who dream of strong heroes and absolute truth: exactly the opposite response to the one the IRWIN tossers claim to want – or at least you might be led to believe they want if you are gullible enough to accept the claims made about them by some of their fanboy ‘critics’.

Milly Thompson had been keen to get through the exhibition fast so that she could get to the booze. I lost sight of her early on, until emerging from the show I too hit the drinks and found Milly in my line of vision – here I also encountered Ingrid Svenson, Andrew Wilson and Simon Bedwell (like Milly Thompson an ex-member of the artist group BANK).

To sum up, I had a good night out and thought it pleasant enough to look again at work by the likes of Pinot-Gallizio and Oiticica (since what they do has long grooved me), but when I left I couldn’t help thinking that the show was aimed at the tourists who flock to Tate Modern and not at me. I’d prefer to see shows that are more rigorous and coherent, and I don’t see why that should necessarily make them less popular.

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!

Aldo Tambellini At Tate Modern

Sunday, October 14th, 2012

A  year ago on this blog I described seeing the recreation of a 1960s Aldo Tambellini happening in Manhattan on 20 October 2011:

…headed up to the Chelsea Museum for a performance of Aldo Tambellini’s Black Zero – a recreation of a happening performed by Group Center several times between 1963 and 1965. Black Zero featured some recorded sounds, including the voice of poet Calvin C. Hernton who couldn’t be there in person because he was dead. One of the improvised elements was Henry Grimes on double bass and Ben Morea on power tools adapted as musical instruments – and they were fabulous together! There were film projections all over the place and a very good modern dancer, who amid apocalyptic verse about racism and nuclear holocaust, eventually fell down into an erotic death pose: at this point Tambellini entered the stage area with a pen knife and popped a balloon onto which film was being projected, and that was the end of the performance. I was knocked out by the event, describing it in words really doesn’t do it justice.

From 9-14 October 2012 Tambellini was at Tate Modern under the banner of Retracing Black. In The Tanks for six days there was a Tambellini environment with film and slide projections, film on TV monitors and an audio loop lasting about 22 minutes. On the evening of Saturday 13 October there were screenings of individual films and the re-staging of two happenings. Tambellini’s strength in the 1960s lay in collaborating with others and collaging different mediums into environments and happenings – and while we’re at it let’s not forget he played a key role in creating a vibrant cultural scene in New York’s East Village that flourished precisely because it kept itself utterly separate from the institution of art!

The Tate’s screening of various Tambellini shorts allowed me to get a better understanding of some of the elements that make up his mixed-media collages but for those new to Tambellini (which seemed to be the case for most of the audience) then seen in this format they didn’t make for a good introduction to his work. The films were mostly abstract and black and white, to fully appreciate their fast flicker in a cinema environment you don’t want distractions from other light sources… unfortunately a number of people on both sides of me were using smart phones during the screening and even in silent mode such coloured flashing really lessened the impact of Tambellin’s work. Nonetheless you could still see there were a lot of parallels between Tambellin’s mid-sixties shorts and lettrist cinema of the early nineteen-fifties. The scratching of film stock and the soundtracks at times being dissociated from the imagery being just two examples of this.

To really grasp what Tambellini is about you  need to experience one of his mixed media happenings. In this context his films become part of a complete sensory overload in an electromedia environment. Moondial recreated from 1966 was an improvisation on the part of a musician and dancer with film and slide projections by Tambellini. The costume worn by the dancer – originally Beverly Schmidt but at the Tate Tanks Daliah Touré – with its wild headdress and reflective parts, brought to my mind the Afro-Futurism of Sun Ra and others. Obviously Tambellini’s mixed media happenings are always to an extent an improvisation and are never going to be exactly the same twice. I was, however, surprised at just how different the version of Black Zero I saw at Tate Modern was to the re-staging I’d witnessed in Manhattan a year earlier. There was more space for the projections, Seth Woods playing the cello rather than Henry Grimes on double bass, and recordings of Ben Morea rather than the man himself improvising live with his ‘noise machines’, fewer recorded words from poet Calvin C. Hernton (nothing about nuclear holocaust at Tate but still plenty about racism), less on stage action in general in terms of performers too.

What was more impressive at Tate Modern than Chelsea Museum was the balloon which Tambellini pops at the end of the performance – this was gradually inflated throughout the event to a huge size (whereas in Manhattan a year earlier it was much smaller). That said I preferred the more cluttered first performance I saw and thought that while Seth Woods was good, Henry Grimes playing live with and against Ben Morea was way more sonically impressive. I also preferred the longer selection of Hernton recordings since his anger at the racism and stupidity all around him is not only deeply felt but theoretically incisive (as anyone who has read his non-fiction books about race in America will already know). Hernton’s poetic style owes something to the beat generation but at the same time he is way better than Allen Ginsberg and William Burroughs rolled into one! Tambellini’s mixed media events are at a midway point between beat and psychedelic culture and all the better for not being frozen into one period or the other.

Even if I preferred the version of Black Zero I saw re-staged at Chelsea Museum, it was still great to see it again at Tate Tanks. And the audience at Tate Modern applauded wildly at the end of both pieces, many were clearly ecstatic. Likewise, the Retracing Black environment was also an absolute triumph, providing a great introduction to Tambellini for anyone who wanted to be able to wander in and out without necessarily watching an entire happening. What Chelsea Museum in New York had last year that wasn’t at Tate Modern was a good selection of Tambellini’s Black Paintings, so these really do need to be shown sometime soon in London….

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!

From Sonic Weapons To A Bulletin Board At Venus Over Manhattan

Sunday, July 15th, 2012

Back in the summer of 1996 I was invited on a journalist junket to watch KLF pop star Jimmy Cauty demonstrate sonic weapons at a remote location on Dartmoor (south Devon and close to Cauty’s home at the time).  A carriage on a London to Exeter train was blocked booked for stringers attending the event and we were plied with booze on the journey. By the time we boarded a helicopter at Exeter airport (a small provincial facility that shuts down in the early evening), the majority of journalists present were at least mildly drunk.

After a twenty minute chopper ride disaster struck. The pilot announced that we couldn’t land because a mist had swept across the moor. Instead, we returned to Exeter airport where we were told a coach would pick us up and transport us to the acoustic weapons test site. After an hour of waiting, the PR people were going crazy – hardly surprising when you consider that they’d spent fifty thousand pounds staging the event and wanted to impress us stringers into giving them lots of coverage. Meanwhile, an assortment of journalists and photographers were having luggage cart races around an otherwise deserted passenger concourse. The airport had closed down for the night, until one of our party succeeded in activating the public address system and went into pirate DJ mode.

A security guard appeared and attempted to restore order when a bored music journalist switched on a luggage conveyor and one of his friends disappeared down it. While this was going on I picked up a huge pile of postcards depicting a Jersey European Airways jet and placed them in my bag; my thinking being that one day I’d make an art work out of them. The postcards sat around various flats I lived in for 16 years waiting to be alchemised into art, which finally happened this summer when Matthew Higgs asked me to contribute to a show of Bulletin Board art he has organised at Venus Over Manhattan – you can see my work here.

Returning to 1996, I was supposed to get an exclusive interview with Jimmy Cauty for The Big Issue but because not a single journalist had seen the promised sonic weapons demonstration, the PR people offered all the stringers present an interview with the KLF star as a form of compensation. We’d been left stranded at Exeter airport for several hours and weren’t taken to something approaching civilisation until around midnight. I got to speak with Cauty early on – he saw us journos one by one in the back room of a local pub – and he admitted to me that his sonic weapons were actually just some disco gear through which he played back pop music at high volume (I already suspected as much having seen an earlier demonstration in London). He told me he’d simply hoaxed the media and police into believing he was developing acoustic weapons.

I wrote up my interview and sent it to The Big Issue who very shortly afterwards called me to thank me for producing a really great piece. Two days later my editor Tina Jackson phoned me sounding distraught – I’d done my work properly but Cauty had given nearly identical quotes to The Independent newspaper.The Big Issue now couldn’t run the piece I’d written but Tina Jackson said if I could quickly knock up something else about Cauty then they’d use that. I replied that since Cauty’s sonic weapons were a hoax, I could write a joke story about him showing me a secret bunker where among other things he stored more conventional combat equipment including guns and ammunition. This suggestion was immediately accepted by Tina Jackson.

My humorous story Captive of the KLF appeared in The Big Issue of 19 August 1996. On 26 August 30 anti-terrorist cops waving a copy of my hoax Big Issue article raided Jimmy Cauty’s country home and arrested him. This made the front page of The Western Morning News on 28 October 1996; on 15 November that year The Guardian newspaper provided their take on the matter (and this is my favourite piece of coverage of the incident – despite the fact ‘The Grauniad’ call me an ‘art terrorist’ which is not a term I would use to describe myself):

“So where do you reckon the intelligence services get all their best stuff from? Telephone taps? High-level informers? Secret agents? Or none of the above? It appears in fact that they spend their days reading The Big Issue. Following an entirely spoofed article by self-styled art terrorist Stewart Home describing how he was kidnapped and shown an arsenal of weapons at the house of KLF/K Foundation money-burner-in-chief Jim Cauty, Mr Cauty’s abode was put under police surveillance for several days. Not long after, it was raided by 30 officers who searched the gaff from top to bottom and found nothing….” John Duncan Guardian Diary, 15 November 1996, page 17.

This incident involving Jimmy Cauty and the anti-terroirist cops gave me a great anecdote to tell friends – but actually the best thing to come out of that journalist junket is my Bulletin Board art work which after 16 years has finally finished its necessary period of gestation The Matthew Higgs/White Columns curated show Bulletin Board – including my postcard piece – is on at Venus Over Manhattan, 980 Madison Avenue, 3rd Floor, New York, from 20 July to 24 August.

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!