Posts Tagged ‘Association of Autonomous Astronauts’

3-Sided Football & Other Alytus Biennial Repetitions

Tuesday, October 4th, 2011

In August 2009, and again in August 2011, I found myself referring the games of 3-sided football staged as a part of the Alytus Biennial in Lithuania. I don’t attend many biennials, but since the one in Alytus has evolved into a jamboree of post-artistic practices – and it is also a delightfully intimate event – I’ll always make an exception for it.

But let’s get back to 3-sided football. It was Asger Jorn, the Cobra artist and founding member of the Situationist International, who first came up with the idea of a football match involving three teams. However, it appears that Jorn considered it impossible to stage a real life game of 3-sided football, and so never attempted to do so. As far as I know the first game of 3-Sided football was organised by the London Psychogeographical Association at a Glasgow Summer School in 1993. Since then there have been many games of 3-sided soccer, and in the 1990s they were particularly popular with people involved with the Association of Autonomous Astronauts (who were running an independent proletarian space exploration programme at the time).

3-sided football is played on a hexagonal pitch with each team being assigned two opposite sides for bureaucratic purposes, but only one of these two sides has a goal. The winning team is the one that concedes the least goals, not the one that scores the most. This means that strategic alliances can arise between sides, since it is in the interest of the teams that are losing at any particular point in the game to work together against those that are ahead of them.

In Alytus the pitch was marked out in the city’s forest park, meaning that not only was it difficult to kick the ball all the way across the pitch – because there were trees in the way – but also that as referee I wasn’t always able to see what was going on in the match. On both occasions I refereed in Alytus we had three teams of seven players and I ran the game in three thirds of fifteen minutes each; with two third-time breaks of five minutes. I rotated the teams around the different goals and sides of the pitch during the match, so that each team spent one third of the game defending each of the three different goals. Also, because I’m a lousy referee, I didn’t enforce offside rules (which are a more complicated in 3-sided football than conventional soccer).

The 2009 game was competitive but the teams did seem to understand how to make strategic alliances and we had an excellent match (with the team mostly made up of anarchists from Vilnius winning). This year I was a little disappointed that the two best teams were so competitive and antagonistic towards each other that the worst team won. At one point the two better teams had the ball in front of the worst team’s goal with only one defending player anywhere near them. Instead of co-operating, those who should have been attacking the worst team’s goal tackled each other. This was blatantly stupid since who scored the goal was irrelevant, I was only keeping a tally of goals conceded.

The better teams missed innumerable opportunities to thrash the frankly awful side of footballers who were mostly from London. I had complaints that since I was from London, I was biased in the worst team’s favour, and while I admired the sneaky way they played their superior rivals off against each other – and thereby won the game – I’d also be the first to admit that as athletes they sucked. Given the way the winning side tactically conceded the first goal and continually exposed their football skills as being utterly rubbish, and by such ruses goaded the other two teams into attacking each other, I’d hate to engage any of these lousy sportsmen in 3-sided chess (this is another game that interests them).

Although I was disappointed by this year’s 3-sided football game, the 2011 Alytus Biennial – which ran from 22 to 28 August – also repeated and improved upon a number of events from 2009. The monstrations – demonstrations lacking demands that would be comprehensible to a capitalist politician – were even more of a party than at the previous biennial. We marched with brightly painted placards celebrated the rise of the psychic worker and their solidarity with their dead comrades. The slogans were mostly incomprehensible and some placards even mixed languages and alphabets within words and phrases. This year we not only demonstrated during the day, but also had a late-night march. The way we threw fireworks around in the streets, banged drums and chanted, delighted the Friday night drunks hanging around outside bars.

The scratch music session was also an improvement on 2009, because it was more free form and didn’t become bogged down in rock idioms. Likewise, the 2011 discussions were both more impressive and considerably more global in scope than in 2009. We also did some cloud busting, and that gave me a remarkable sense of deja vu, since it was neither better nor worse than two years previously! I want to keep this short, so I’m not gonna describe everything that went on, but suffice to say that once again the Alytus Biennial proved a complete groove sensation!

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

Volatile Dispersal: Festival of Art Writing

Monday, November 23rd, 2009

On Saturday night I read at Volatile Dispersal, a festival of art writing held at the Whitechapel Gallery. The event proved so crowded and popular that it was hard to take very much in. I found this ironic because after I’d used my FaceBook account to remind people about the event (I list all the public events I’m doing initially on my homepage), among the comments I garnered were the following:

“I like the idea of ‘art writing’; its the best phrase I’ve ever come across (Barry Watten?) to describe the efforts of those of us who spend anywhere between 5 to 50 to 75 hours on one text, which is little more than a page, only to have said text become tucked away appropriately in a ‘slim volume’ which no one in their right mind will pay 10 dollars for when all is said and done… go boy!” Volker Nix.

And: “Yeah Volker, writing that nobody will read, not even if you put it online for free…I used to see that as being somehow radical (and I still kind of do)…but now I think the only real reason for engaging in these practices is simply because you enjoy it (is that somehow radical?)” Robert Chrysler.

There were various events going on in different parts of the Whitechapel Gallery, I was programmed to read in a small upstairs space alongside a whole host of other ‘art writers’, and this segment was curated by Francesco Pedraglio. Since I was on last, I was more focused on getting into the mood for my reading than paying attention to what other people were doing. That said, it is decidedly amusing that some of those engaged in ‘art writing’ are clearly unaware of experimental poetry by the likes of Bob Cobbing, so they are able to cover old ground as if it is fresh (and I guess it is for them, if not me).

What I found particularly curious about the event was that a number of people were participating in Volatile Dispersal who I knew but I managed not to meet on the night. I was able to hear Sally O’Reilly read because there was a speaker system relaying the sound from the room in which I also performed into the adjacent bar – but the event was so packed that I was unable to get into this small gallery for the majority of sessions before mine. I looked out for Sally afterwards but it was so busy it was easy to miss people, and I didn’t ‘see’ O’Reilly at all that night. Others advertised as being present who I failed to clock at all included Babak Ghazi (whose downstairs event clashed with mine) and Laura Oldfield Ford. Yet more, such as Mike Sperlinger, I spotted across crowded rooms – but in most cases was unable to attract their attention before they disappeared.

Among those I did manage to speak to were Crow, Bridget Penney, Bridget Lowe, Katrina Palmer, Maitreyi Maheshwari, Gavin Everall, Jane Rollo, Nick Thurston, Anthony Isles, Jonathan Allen, Benedict Seymour, Maria Fusco, James Brook, Chris Horrocks, Jeremy Ackerman and Hilary Koob-Sassen. I also had a reasonably extended conversation with Rob La Frenais about Toshiba ripping off Simon Faithfull in their current ad campaign. Nothing wrong with plagiarism of course, but Toshiba and the ad agency they used initially claimed this blatant steal demonstrated the commitment of both parties to innovation. Ho ho! La Frenais was telling me corporations can’t get away with this kind of rip-off in the world of Web 2.0 because tweets, blogs and comments on sites like YouTube and Facebook have spread the story around the world and forced Toshiba to backtrack – so they’ve apparently paid Simon Faithfull some wedge to say nothing, and are now claiming the ‘innovation’ was not launching a chair into space using weather balloons (as Faithfull had five years before them) but in using this for an ad! Doh! If that’s Toshiba’s idea of ‘innovation’ then I think I’ll stick to using consumer electronics made by Apple, Asus, Panasonic and Sony (among others) and avoid Toshiba (unless they send me some nice freebies). And BTW, why so few mentions of The Association of Autonomous Astronauts in regard to all this too?

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

From Whitecross Street to Falmouth Harbour & Back Again!

Thursday, May 14th, 2009

Reader let me take you by the hand to Whitecross Street… are the words with which nineteenth-century writer George Gissing begins his first novel Workers of the Dawn. In Gissing’s time Whitecross Street was synonymous with poverty but now it boasts art galleries and a regular farmer’s market. Just down the road is the site that provided Gissing with the title of another novel New Grub Street. Today this road stops dead where it hits the Barbican complex and what is left of it is called Milton Street. Grub Street was once the favoured home of London’s hack journalists and other impoverished writers; it was originally called Grope Cunt Street because of the broken down prostitutes who plied their trade within it. Nearby lie the sites of the notorious Jack The Ripper murders, the graves of William Blake and Daniel Defoe, and an art scene that thrived in the 1990s and is now dying on its feet. Mostly the northern and eastern edges of the City of London are gentrified but there are still notoriously ‘dangerous’ areas such as Murray Grove….

All of which goes to show that whenever I spend time away from London, my thoughts fix firmly on the city in which I was born. I’ve just been staying at The Grove Hotel in Grove Place, Falmouth. My room was rather too traditional for my taste; it had embossed pale yellow wallpaper, dark furniture and a print of a country landscape with a river and a bridge above the bed. For my comfort, the bed had ‘been fitted with a revolutionary Tempur memory foam mattress which experts recommend saying that as it moulds to the body it produces the best conditions for a good nights sleep.’ The service was friendly and the breakfast good.

On Tuesday, 12 May, 2009 I gave a lecture for Exeter University at The Old Chapel on the out of town Tremough Campus. The promotional blurb for this ran as follows: “Taking up from the network of 1990s humorous anti-capitalist groups covered in my book Mind Invaders, would it make sense today to form a Falmouth Psychogeographical Society, or revive the Kernow branch of the Association of Autonomous Astronauts? Has the currently active and London based International Necronautical Society moved the work of these earlier groups forwards, or has it reversed into antiquated literary and philosophical positions? So by looking at these groups and their relationship to the historic avant-garde, I’d like to shift towards seeing what a new group based in Cornwall might look like…”

The following day I ran a workshop on Network Platforms and Collaboration at the Woodlane Campus of Falmouth College of Art. This was billed as: “Taking forward the ways in which I’ve been working collaboratively on the web. The starting point is the “Tree Sex Girl Network” developed in 2007 with Paolo Cirio and Tatiana Bazzichelli, which was hosted via MySpace profiles and YouTube videos and was an entirely fake network of “bot girls” who claimed they liked making love to trees and listening to breakbeat. As part of the workshop we will produce blueprints (using video, photography and texts) for some new fake social networking profiles and critically reconsider the project’s characteristics.

After everyone had talked through their various experiences with Web 2.0, we collectively decided to make profiles for the unborn babies of celebrity mothers, so that the foetus could find its own voice online! You can now view these profiles live at a social networking site near you! Although some of the tree sex girl material placed online is no longer available, if you want to check it out try the following addresses:

www.myspace.com/forest_frottage

www.myspace.com/roxyporn

www.myspace.com/alexlovetrees

www.myspace.com/selenelovetrees

www.myspace.com/fucktrees

I didn’t meet any tree sex girls during my trip to Cornwall, although I did get to spend some time with the legendary Nigel Ayers of Nocturnal Emissions. There was also much merriment with Alex Murray, Kate Southworth, Magdalena Tyzlik-Carver and many others. A couple of bars have opened in Falmouth since I last visited the town, and both these new ventures – The Town House and The Tap Room – boast reasonably modern decor and a friendly atmosphere. I also spent time in The Steam Packet which I’d not visited before, and reacquainted myself with several other drinking establishments. Since my last sojourn to Cornwall, Woolworths had closed down but otherwise Falmouth seemed pretty timeless. It’s a nice place to visit but personally I much prefer living in London….

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

5,494 Linda McCartney Vegetarian Sausages For Nicolas Bourriaud

Sunday, January 18th, 2009

As a taster for their 2009 triennial  ‘curated’ by Nicolas Bourriaud (AKA Boring Ass), Tate Britain hosted a series of talks concluding with one this weekend by the International Necronautical Society (INS). For their 17 January shindig, the INS hired actors to play General Secretary Tom “Thunderbird” McCarthy and Chief Philosopher Simon “Hip Hugger” Critchley. The event sold out well in advance because a sensation hungry public were under the entirely false impression that they would be personally addressed by this notorious pair of lobster loving nude chefs. Despite Radio 4 (Today programme, 29 December 2008) making the outrageous claim that McCarthy is widely recognised as a best-selling novelist, the majority of those present appeared blissfully unaware of the fact that the thespians pretending to be the notorious INS nude chefs were Sexton Blakes!

Before the Gilbert & George clones posing as Thunderbird and the Hip Hugger launched into the main act, the INS pulled their masterstroke by having a luvvie impersonating Nicolas Bourriaud introduce them. The actor playing Boring Ass boasted over-lovingly tousled hair and covering his back (but not his arse) was a truly shitty piece of ‘designer’ knitwear in grey marl with buttons running down the sleeve. The fake Bourriaud proceeded to camp it up outrageously in his impersonation of an inept and self-important curator, and used a thick but phony French accent to render his ‘Franglais’ incomprehensible. This had those of us who have seen the ‘English’ ‘translation’ of Bourriaud’s book Relational Aesthetics, rolling in the aisles. Indeed, my body was so racked by laughter that I failed to write down a single word of the parody Bourriaud speech. Fortuitously a brief sample from Relational Aesthetics (page 29), the text the INS piss-take was modelled upon, will convey its flavour: “Pictures and sculptures are characterised by their symbolic availability. Beyond obvious material impossibilities (museum closing times, geographical remoteness), an artwork can be see (sic) at any time. It is there before our eyes, offered to the curiosity of a theoretically universal public. Now, contemporary art is often marked by non-availability, by being viewable only at a specific time…”

Having lampooned Bourriaud so mercilessly, whatever the INS did next was bound to disappoint and it will surprise few readers of this blog that the impersonators playing Thunderbird and the Hip Hugger were deliberately saddled with a lecture that was more suited to the printed page than public performance. Despite endless ‘highbrow’ (AKA first year undergraduate) references to the likes of Plato, Joyce and Wile E. Coyote, the content of the talk can be summarised with a pair of old neoist slogans: “death is not true”, and ‘whenever someone utters the word authenticity you can be certain you’re dealing with a fake”. The content of the lecture was cannibalised from both earlier INS manifestations and the work of 1990s counterculture networks such as the Association of Autonomous Astronauts and the Luther Blissett Project. The harsh lighting and bland delivery created a post-humorous ambiance in which those members of the audience who did not know what was going on became the butt of this INS joke.

The answers for the Q and A session at the end had been pre-scripted, but this form of ‘democratic’ participation is so ritualised that few seemed to notice that the replies were read back rather than spontaneous. The first audience member to speak during the open mike session wittered on about the traditionalist imbecile Rene Guenon and denounced the INS lecture as ‘incoherent” (obviously not aware of the fact that this was its entire point). The next person to gain control of the mike that was being passed around expressed complete agreement with the INS; while a third specified the form in which he wanted his answers, and yet after getting them as scripted rather than as demanded, he still appeared unaware that these had been written in advance.

The Q and A was followed by drinks. The Boring Ass impersonator used this social as an opportunity to parade a trophy blonde who hung onto his arm before the public. While I was enjoying a tipple, a journalist from the TLS mistook me for Thunderbird. I assured her that I was not McCarthy and when she eventually persuaded someone to point him out, she apparently gave him a ticking off for the prank he’d just played. Literary types are still into nineteenth-century notions such as sincerity, and by using the INS as a vehicle to revive the merciless assault on authenticity that characterised the most interesting cultural currents of the 1980s and 1990s, Simon Critchley and Tom McCarthy are successfully distancing themselves from these bourgeois bores.

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