Remember Al Magnus?

This is not a review. And it will probably remain incomprehensible if you don’t at least read what the Wooster Group show is about. So you might want to start off with a positive review and/or a negative one.
(And, possibly, move to an insight into how they prepared it. And an insightful interview about the group. And an interview with Kate Valk.)

I had been waiting to see this for a long time. This is the group I always talk about during workshops and I have never seen act live. This particular show, well, could be an experimentum crucis of my (wavering) faith in theater as a live form of live art. I leave you with my transcribed raw notes from the show, and below, a couple of ideas.

Theater as reproduction
- of what?
of our reality
=> cinema (is our reality)

other way: reality reproduces art
body is our basic reality

body as choreography

BUT it’s first and foremost a SHOW

spaces of absence

The dance of the impotent body

to perform = to enact

puppets

retro

conventionality of movement

performance as video art or rather as
echo of image
=> afterimage

–

The action lies between the acts

–

Playing on the players like on instruments
The players accompany a great
video
Is that bad?

“They killed theater” (audience member, calmly)
(So many deaths of theater before)
Good Heavens,
if that be so,
if this is the thing,
I humbly thank you.

Musical work – when works.

Women have more problems with show formula- because of
more emotional roles?

2nd part much better – uses the new convention.
(but also ends up more conventional)
Hamlet – actor – manipulates the actors – logical gesture.
Strong
–
search for an
aesthetic experience
(e.g. songs)
showSHOWshowSPECTACLE

5 technicians operating video/sound/lights
–
Brilliant technical solutions – eg. moving screen in loop CCTV.

Warping time/space

But then it becomes simply multimedia entertainment.

+ + +

A man crosses the stage, says Peter Brook, and you have theater.
Pathos. That’s what you get when a man crosses the stage. Anthropocentrism. The idea that it’s all about us, really. The sin of vanity in all its splendor.

Who are we, really (on stage)?
How do we conduct our paths (on stage)?
What can we see if we introduce breaks into the surface of our behavior (on stage)?

The body becomes heavy.
It becomes an accessory. An object more than a tool. An instrument that cannot be played in a clean way is more of itself. It is less melody, and more instrument.
This body that struggles to fit into the image that will always outsmart it.

Their “on/off” stage presence (in the middle of a scene: “Let’s skip this dialogue”) is not shocking, it is part of the language of contemporary performance. It is part of our thinking, feeling of the frame/work of art as ambiguously present, intermittently present. Nice: it’s when it turns us on, not the other way around. Hence the decadent flirt, hence the false opening, hence the play outside of a play outside of a play.

______________________________

What do you want out of this? Out of this experience? What do you want out of a play?

Try this: Say: This is silly. Say: Theater is the essence of the misconception that it is all about the human. It is the place of the old-fashioned, stubborn faith in 1) the communion of the believers, and 2) the hierarchy of presentation. It is a stage which seems so enchanted with the universal human condition, it forgets the subtle yet profound changes of the aesthetic, the sensible, the eye of the beholder. It is a place whose very existence in this time is so out of joint, it is funny.

What if we accepted this as part of the game? What if we played this game, using this as a platform to inquire into what conditions we are in, as the humans that have no choice but to, at one point or another, remain anthropocentric? What if we surrendered ourselves to the collision of times, this our present time of, say, having to read this text one line at a time, and the time of too many lines behind, and the time of too many lines besides, after, above? What sort of figures are we once we let go of our need for the unique now? Entirely?

Sensation> This our too too solid flesh is extremely flexible. And it goes along with the lines of tension, it follows the cracks and bounces off whatever is left as the aftermath.
Abstract? No, this is not abstract. It means: somehow, miraculously, we deal with change, since we live through it. And yet, we do not melt, we do not resolve ourselves into a dew. If we manage to tune in – we dance. Every step, stumble, vibration becomes a choreography of ourselves.

Sensation> We are not enough. The body fights to correspond to the twitches of the images, yet it lags behind. The eyes go back to the screen. We have no way of knowing how correct we are, yet the need of knowledge unveils our total, complete inadequacy. We are but thinking puppets, we are but repeating Plato, we are but warming up the stage for the image that comes behind. Whatever surrounds us is more powerful, and yet -

Sensation> The eye of the beholder might make a difference. The beholder as object, the beholder as a weaker alter ego. The beholder as the one who submits to the role of a prop, and whose tragedy, a subject realizing he is an object, becomes the juiciest work, the perfect crack in the façade of the perfect spectacle.

Oh, and don’t pay attention to the ending. Don’t pay attention to the illusion that the slave has become the master, that the technology is, after all, a tool, that we can use the past, control the present, cope with the future, that things are what we want them to be. Don’t fall in the trap of theater, which numbs us into believing it’s okay, images end, we are here, devising our entries and winning our exits.
There is a stage behind that one, and on it, well, take a peak.

Phil and Kat Taylor are husband and wife art collectors. They live just outside Toronto, Canada which is a cool art city. One day, out of the blue, Phil emailed me and we started chatting about our common interest. I thought that he would make a great interview subject. He has a forthright, down to earth, yet very polite air about him. To me, this makes him “Clearly Canadian.” Read on and you’ll see.

MICHAEL: Hi Phil. Thanks for talking with me. You and your wife Kat (Katherine) are collectors. What got you into collecting? How did you begin?

PHIL: Well, my parents were both professional actors in Canada, so I grew up in an arts saturated environment – literature, music, acting, and of course visual arts. My early passion was photography since I could not draw very well, but I was always drawn to the fine arts of painting and sculpting. As a young adult I started to buy prints of popular master works though I always kept an eye on the contemporary scene as well. But it took many years to figure out what I really liked. We are bombarded with so many opinions and views on art that it can be very confusing. And when you start to buy original art, you really want to be sure of yourself, because it usually costs quite a bit more to buy good originals, even from unknown artists. And about 10 years ago I bought my first quality original by a fine Quebec artist named Louise Dandurand. The art dealer knew it was my first buy and could see I was nervous. When we completed the deal he said “I know it’s a bit scary buying your first original, but it gets easier.” He was right. I married my wife a few years after that and found that we have similar taste in art, and we have been buying new works from living artists ever since.

MICHAEL: Phil, I’m so glad that you got over your fear about how did Kat become a collector? Kat, are you there?

KAT: Hi Mike, this is Kat. Phil does most of the heavy lifting when it comes to our art … but here is a bit about myself. I am a professional singer/actor, and I have been active in the arts generally throughout my life. During my undergrad degrees at Queen’s University in Kingston Ontario. I studied in Europe … “Music History and Performance Practice”. One summer the course was offered in Venice and the next it was in Vienna. During this time I saw a tremendous number of masterpieces. Certainly I never imagined that I would live in a ‘gallery’ of original art! Phil’s enthusiasm has made this possible for me.
MICHAEL: Phil, it seems that your enthusiasm has conquered your early fear of art. I think that fear is the number one thing that keeps people from even visiting art galleries let alone becoming art collectors. Much of society has been brainwashed into believing that art is so far above their comprehension that they dare not aspire. What do you think?

PHIL: I agree with you Michael, but it’s more than just fear. Many people are turned off by art today because they simply don’t like what they see. I am speaking of course about much of the art created since the beginning of the 20th century. And it certainly doesn’t help that the larger art establishment swoons over work that leaves the average person scratching their head. And I have to confess right up front that I am pretty average too. The vast majority of art I see today seems amateurish or uninteresting. The truth is that I have to force myself to go into galleries. I know that most of what I see will not interest me in the slightest, but I do it because I never know when and where I might find a gem. It doesn’t surprise me at all that many people don’t even make an effort. But for me its like a treasure hunt.
MICHAEL: Art is a treasure hunt for me as well. The last time that I went gallery hopping in Chelsea (New York City), I was stunned by some of the crap that I saw! You don’t have to be an “expert” to recognize junk. Fortunately, Chelsea has more than 200 galleries, so there was also some truly fantastic work to see. What really bothers me is when it appears that the artist/curator isn’t interested in trying to engage or inspire us. Not long ago, I visited a new contemporary art museum that staged a BIG exhibition, but I felt that the curators intentionally made it the opposite of what had been promoted. I think it was their way of saying, “We’re beyond caring what you think because we’ll never allow you into our club!” Such a disservice.
PHIL: Well it’s hard to know exactly what many curators, gallery owners, art critics and artists themselves, are really thinking about the average person. But sometimes they let their guard down. I read an interview with a gallery owner who said she only shows art she really hates. I wonder if she tells prospective buyers in her gallery how much she hates the work she is trying to sell them? Fact is I stopped caring what the art establishment was saying or doing, years ago. I keep my eye on the ball – the ball being new art. I make my own judgments and keep moving forward. And you hit the nail on the head. I look for art that inspires and engages me.

MICHAEL: So, what kind of art do you and Kat collect? How would you describe your collection? Is there a common thread?

PHIL; Well Michael, I thought you would never ask. Our taste is quite eclectic in that we do not look for a particular style or theme. Most of the work is two dimensional and all of it is by living, working artists. They are mostly Canadian, but we have also bought pieces from American, French, and Chinese artists. There are four essential elements we consider when buying art, and in no particular order they are:

1. Technical mastery by the artist in his chosen medium. As you know the importance of mastery has taken a beating in the last century or so. The message is all important now, but there are still artists who strive for the kind of excellence that we saw during the Renaissance for example. And mastery takes years, so most of our artists are in their 40s and 50s. We keep an eye on promising young artists,

….

Created by Michael Corbin On 07/06/09 At 12:31 PM

Here’s an interesting quote from Robert Genn’s latest newsletter called “Transartistic meditation,” which is something like Transcendental Meditation.

“Studies of “flow” and “the zone” have been done using all stripes of artists. This is where the artist gets into a relaxed, intuitive state somewhere deep down in the lizard brain and the good stuff rains down like ripe pomegranates. Tired of rotten apples, I was curious about these concepts as well.” Robert Genn

I have never been able to figure why artists would want to waste their time meditating as they drink from the same pond while they have their tools in their hand. It may be an active form of meditation, especially if you’re an expressionist of any kind, but you’re forced to hang out in places that zen monks would be comfortable in. Personally, I think it’s why so many artists suffer from depression or are just downright wacky; as they can’t handle being in that space. You have to look at yourself naked in silence, which is why television, radio, and any other distractions are so popular with society.

These color photographs were all taken in the Russian Empire between 1909 and 1918.

Sergei Prokudin-Gorskii was a Russian photographer born in 1863. After studying chemistry with Mendeleev and later with Adolf Miethe – one of the crucial figures in the invention of color photography – Gorskii started developing his own techniques and processes of color photography, giving it a quality that even impresses even today.
In 1909, he convinced the tsar Nicolas II to send him on a trip across the Russian Empire, to document its impressive diversity. It was a 10-year project, during which Gorskii took over 10 000 pictures, and it ended up outlasting the tsar himself, and the Empire for that matter, as the October Revolution swept away the monarchy. In 1918, he emigrated to Paris, where he died in 1944.

The image archive of 1902 negatives which were left was bought by the Library of Congress a few years after the artist’s death, and was put online in 2004. You can find it here.

Prokuda-Gorskii’s most famous photo is of Leo Tolstoy, dated 1908.

But I prefer this monumental, megalomaniac and modest project of documenting Imperial Russia, which at the time was larger than the USSR ever came to be. The diversity of the people, and the shockingly modern colors of their portraits, make them impossible to forget. They are our contemporaries, now that they stopped hiding between the unfocused black-and-whiteness.
They are almost too present.

Austrian (probably meaning also Polish and of other origins) prisoners somewhere in Russia. It’s really worth seeing a high-resolution image.

Here he is, Sergei Prokudin-Gorskii. In a landscape that is (eerily?) ours.
PS. The amazing color bars that appear on some of the pictures are the result of Prokudin-Gorskii’s ingenious process, which consisted in taking three subsequent, monochromatic photographs, one with a green filter, one with blue and one with red. He then superimposed the three projections using lamps with a corresponding filter system. I adore these frames, unfortunately some of the images needed additional computer editing (by the Library of Congress) and in this version were cropped.
You can find an extended biography of Gorskii here.

Kentucky born and bred artist Brad Everett Kirkman is what some people might call an “outsider artist.” He isn’t trained, but some might say he’s anointed. Looking at his work, you can clearly see that he’s not only driven by art, but also a message. He works full-time for a precision manufacturing company, but art is his true calling and message. Incidentally, we had this chat long ago and begin by talking about his old website which has since changed to www.brevki.com and www.BradEverettKirkman.blogspot.com However, his message remains the same.

MICHAEL: Hey Brad. First of all, your website is called, mainrinse.com. Why do you have a website and where did the name come from?

BRAD: I felt I needed a space of my own that I could have complete control. No ads to distract and no restrictions etc. Main Rinse is an anagram of “I’m a sinner.” I named it this so I would always be reminded that I am no better than anybody else on this planet. I will always be in need of a Savior that can fill the hole in me that nothing or no one else can fill.

MICHAEL: Do you draw (no pun intended, sorry) any connection between your art and “Main Rinse”?

BRAD: I really can’t separate the two. I think of the website as an extension of the art. I can say and do more there to expand on the message I’m trying to relay with my art.

MICHAEL: I have several different representations of your work and I think it’s more driven by your vision rather than even the material itself. How would you describe your art? I’m tempted to say “outsider,” but I don’t love that term.

BRAD: My work is a direct reflection of my life at the moment it’s created. It’s not necessarily “pretty” in a department store sort of way. And it’s not something that a lot of people will want to hang in their living room. My wife would never let me display most of my art in our house. I want to encourage people with my work. If it’s not considered decorator art, no problem. If you want to hang it in your closet and have a private laugh or a secret bit of encouragement that’s absolutely great with me.

MICHAEL: I seem to recall you telling me that you sometimes paint things and just leave them out in public for people to freely take? What’s up with that?

BRAD: I create little sculptures under the name “Prayzine” (like Praising God) and have left them all over the country for people to pick up and keep. I do this as a gift to others. It’s kind of like a friendly street art project. Just another way to try to help people smile and point them to Christ in the process. I leave just enough information for people to Google the name and see what the project is about.

MICHAEL: So, you’re like a wandering, troubadour artist with a message. Where have you left these sculptures? Have you heard from anybody who has gotten one?

BRAD: Mainly east of the Mississippi from Michigan to Florida. I also have friends who leave them for me in places they vacation and travel for business. I have gotten email just saying thanks for the art and encouraging me to continue. Not a whole lot of communication comes back. Maybe people think that there is more to it than it seems. I suppose they think, “Nobody would leave art lying around for free. There must be a catch.”

MICHAEL: Does your full-time job influence your art in any way or do you keep the two things separate?

BRAD: You can say my art is influenced by my full-time job in that there are a lot of people that I work with who need encouragement or just a kind word. I see them as a good cross-section of people, and even though these people have jobs, they still have needs, be it emotional, physical, or financial. Everybody needs to know they are needed and appreciated. This universal need for encouragement is something that pushes me to continue to make positive, uplifting art.

MICHAEL: Many art people might ask you why you live in Hopkinsville, Kentucky. It’s not exactly a booming art center.

BRAD: Hopkinsville is where I grew up. I’ve been a lot of places and I can’t find a place I like better that I can afford. It’s central, not too hot, not too cold, not too northern, not too southern. And it’s easy for me to jet to NY or LA for my one man shows. Ha!

MICHAEL: Oh, okay. Why do I get the feeling that you’ve answered that question before? But I digress. You mentioned something early on about having “complete control” over your work. This is a huge issue with so many artists (not to mention writers). What’s the deal? Is it the galleries? Who is trying to control artists?

BRAD: The pressure to make something that you know will sell is always lurking. You feel if you paint what you want, nobody will get it and thus not buy. I have control over very little in my life. My time is demanded, my attention is demanded, my finances are demanded. My art is really the only thing that nobody can tell me what to do.

MICHAEL: Yes, that’s tough. On top of that, most of the time, you don’t even know whether buyers are misinterpreting the message of your art. I also experience that myself as a writer. That must be a real issue with you because your work is so message driven. Still, you must create things hoping that there’s an audience out there for it … otherwise supporting yourself can be extremely difficult.

BRAD: I just try to make enough to pay for my supplies, anything above that is a bonus. I don’t see me supporting myself/family on my art. It would be great if I could pull it off, but right now I can’t see that being even close to feasible.

MICHAEL: So why are you even doing this? Aren’t there other ways to spread the message? Living artists have such a tough time. What good is art to anybody?

BRAD: Creating art for me is cheap therapy. It relaxes me. I have a fairly stressful day job and I need a wind down activity. I tried other things, like golf. AHHH! That just added more stress that I didn’t need. As far as the message, I have reached people around the world with my crazy little creations. I love that people anywhere can view my art just by happening upon it. If they look and don’t buy that’s OK. Maybe they get a little encouragement from just seeing it. Actually making a sale is just icing on the cake.

MICHAEL: Thanks Brad. You’re much more than just an optimist. You’re clearly a messenger.
Endnote: You can visit Brad at his websites at www.brevki.com and www.bradeverettkirkman.blogspot.com
MICHAEL CORBIN IS AN AVID ART COLLECTOR AND AUTHOR OF THE MULTI-AWARD WINNING BOOK, “THE ART OF EVERYDAY JOE: A COLLECTOR’S JOURNAL.” CHECK OUT HIS BRAND NEW WEBSITE AT WWW.ARTBOOKGUY.COM

Created by Michael Corbin On 06/08/09 At 12:00 PM

ArtInfo’s jobs board is now online. They’re listing art jobs, internships, artist residencies, artist opportunities, artist calls for entry and more.

Here’s some more info from Art Info..

“One of the strengths of ARTINFO is our network and our commitment to institutions and individuals within the art world. Because we realize the months ahead will continue to be challenging, we extend this offer to you to post your opportunity free of charge.

ARTINFO has a targeted audience of engaged art world individuals who interact on many different levels and within many different regions of the world. We have a global focus, but advocate a localized point of view. During this time, we would like to help you – our network – connect with potential opportunities” View their art jobs board here.

The problem with abstraction is that a subjective voyage into the unknown is precisely this: subjective. And the exceptional quality of my experience as the creator is something distinct from the experience of the spectator. Thus, whenever the artist moves into abstraction, whenever we receive less (of the visible image of the visible), we find ourselves in a position of risk – the risk of losing track, of losing sight of anything that rings a bell.
It is a risk we have learned to enjoy. It is a risk justified by the way our historically-bound senses receive the world, and well-defended by an astonishing number of passionate theories.
Still, I look with envy at the art lovers who find abstraction as natural as air.
Most of the time, I find it easier to discover new worlds in a stone than in an abstract sculpture.
Yet there are artists who manage to create paths that lead from the world of re-cognition, of everyday objects and images and tastes, of the mimetic pleasures of re-production, to the very limits of abstract forms.
One such artist is Myra Mimlitsch-Gray.

Take a simple object:

The effect of melting does not seem to challenge the object as such. It asks for fruit as loudly as any classic salver does. Nonetheless, it moves us towards a world where the concrete is, well, not so concrete after all:
Here we have a candelabrum, which is hardly a candelabrum any more. It has melted like a candle, apparently contradicting its main function: to withstand melting. Welcome back to the magnificent world of semiotic undoing, and sensual games with the intellect.
Too entropic for you? Why don’t you try something more positive, then? Sugar and cream, anyone?

The sugar bowl is the negative of its own shape, as is the creamer… or is it that none of them actually has the shape? What are they, after all, these shapes that are to be useful, that are to serve, as if their being objects were not good enough? What is left of the representation, of the concrete, once we put it to challenge in its very heart?

Let’s move back to the first picture now. The title of the work is Trunk Sections, and it is made in cast iron. A tree made of iron. Or is it a mold of a tree? (What a strange idea: a mold of a tree!) Or just a part of their trunk? And why do they seem so… wooden? What, then is the matter with them? They are like ghosts, representing something we presume might have been here, but made of another stuff, another material, another essence, defying the way we see the objectness of the object.
We can, of course, go back to seeing them as just a few pieces of iron cast and assembled to create an abstract sculpture, like so many others.
The question is: with this delicious introduction, why would we refuse the voyage?

Myra Mimlitsch-Gray has an exhibition on until June 27 at the Wexler Gallery in Philadelphia, and you can read an insightful text about her work by by David Revere McFadden here.

Posting has been a little light lately as I have jumped in the car and just kept driving. I’m about 5 hours south from home and am freezing. I’m in the Australian Capital Territory, in the city of Canberra to see Jackson Pollock’s Blue Poles: Number 11 from 1952 at the National Gallery of Australia.

It was bought by the Australian government in 1973 for $2 million USD and created a lot of controversy at the time. If the much smaller and much less impressive No. 5, 1948 painting was sold by David Geffen in 2006 for $140 million, Blue Poles would easily be worth $150 million today.. even in a financial crisis. I rarely ever put a money value on art when I’m in a gallery, but for Blue Poles I’ll make an exception.

Also, I find it funny that a city filled with politicians is based around circles. You can drive around and around and not really get anywhere.. just as politicians go around and around and never really get anywhere. See what I mean on Google maps.

My next stop may be Melbourne.. then maybe Tasmania.. but I’m taking each day as it comes and seeing where the wind blows me. A big gust of wind could even pick me up and take me to London or New York. You just never know what’s around the corner when you’re a paper bag blowing in the wind.

It seems as though my best results are achieved through the continually mediated presence of an awareness and appreciation of an existence in which all the possible artifice of narration has lost its significance.

I represent apparently everyday situations, but which are actually suffused by a mysterious atmosphere, penetrating and refuting any semblance of normality.
Consequently, a man smoking or a woman lying on a bed are no longer representations of ordinary gestures or habits, but become enigmatic representations, tending towards other possibilities. So the background may no longer be a bar, a bedroom, or a road, but time, space, or death.
Even painting, in its way, tries to measure itself against aspects that continually evade us.

The painting on my canvas seems to be of highly realistic. However, if you look carefully at it, you will see that the figures in it are completely isolated from each other. The composition does not represent a scene, but rather, it shows various situations. It is both all true and all false. I cannot illustrate: I pretend to tell a story, and this fictional work contains my idea of the world in which we live and of how to fix things. I don’t paint anything that is actually occurring, but always think of something different from what seems to be the subject of the painting. (…) The painting is the artist’s “journey” while it is in the studio, on the artist’s easel. Then it will acquire new energy, travelling through the eyes of those who are looking at it, adding and subtracting from it, finding references in it that the artist had not even imagined. At that moment the “journey” is no longer the artist’s, but that of the observer.

Our identity derives from a comparison with others, or even a rivalry, and is constructed through a formative process offering us cultural references, in the sense of knowledge of the world around us.
Who we are, where we come from, and where we are going … are all eternal questions that our intellectual curiosity continues to reflect upon, searching for answers.

Sometimes, when we are young, we think we have found “the missing link”. As time passes, everything mellows: what once seemed to be simple and essential needs to be regarded with other eyes. But everything that we have been, or that we have thought we were, that we have loved or refused, stays with us.

However, I have always thought that painting is a kind of laboratory to gain an understanding of the artist, even going beyond what an artist actually thinks he believes. But it could also be said that art is able to unify what seems to have been divided.

Alberto Sughi, Rome 2009
(translated by Joelle Crowle)
Title of the painting: At the end of the day, Oil of canvas, 140×160cm, 2009
For more info on Alberto Sughi see. www.albertosughi.com

Created by Alberto Sughi On 03/23/09 At 11:22 AM