What you like is to look.
You like to suck it up in your gaze, you like to smear your innocent mind with the flesh of sight.
What you like is to become dependent. To let go of the constructions and make them make you.
This is the universe of the aesthetic. It is where you can always find a haven. Where you can let go of your constrained negotiations with what surrounds you, and be indulged, and be spoiled, and be challenged just safely enough to get back home.
What you like is when necessity becomes an ice-cream cone. Be it vanilla-flavored or razor-edged.
What you like is the place which is a place but requires no consequences. Of you.
Where the fish sing gentle songs and have human heads and human breasts, so you can see this is not real, and you can join the part of it that is real enough to be like you.
And you can be like you. Only less conspicuous. Or less conspicuously limited to what you believe you are.
What you like is to look, to admire, to appreciate, what you like is to jump in, when you were keeping yourself outside for some absurd reason. What you like is to overcome the feeling of absurdity through the feeling of empathy. You like to believe the thing there brings you closer to the thing here. And when you’re back – well, when you are back, you leave.

(The video features work by Harrisson and Wood)

Let’s start off easy.

The first image seems the most banal. But we’ll get back to it.
The second is clearly far from innocent. Or rather, it is its absolute innocence that brings the tension.
Just one more innocent painting to keep you off-guard…

And here we go:Most of Melissa Steckbauer’s spicier pictures are somewhere along the lines of the above. They are people in erotic/sexual situations with animals, realistic or mythical ones. Now, how in the world can she include the first painting you see here (the bear-girl) in the same series, Animalia, as the ones you’ve just seen?
That is precisely what gives the series such power. They demistify us by including us in the myth. This human animal becomes a being of flesh. Of flesh and myth. This teddy bear is the same girl that’s having sex with the dog, moving away from the otherness as it penetrates her. Better: she and the beast are one flesh. They are no different, as if in peace with their unbearable similarity. Look at the man with the bear. What is this? A killing? Could it possibly be a hug? No, it is a hug, be it intended or not. It is flesh, it is warm and cuddly. And foreign. Although harmonious – Steckenbauer insists that for her the crucial issue in terms of eroticism is ethics, which she seems to oppose to a set of taboos. But is there really no taboo? No hidden, dangerous zone? To the contrary, the further she goes, the more mysterious and ambivalent the universe. What is this animal, and how does one distinguish it from oneself?

In the interview at the end of this post, Steckbauer talks about her appreciation for “meat in the painting”. And for softness and gentleness. And one of my favorite works of hers combines these two. It is somewhat different from the others, reminding me of Man Ray, maybe. What can we do, it says, what can we do if this is the touch of flesh, the touch that seems to go through my body, to immobilize us as it multiplies the members and gets us way out into oblivion, a communication made ambiguous, an identity lost, or repainted, or foresaken, for the sake of what, of what, oh don’t ask me, enjoy.

PS: I dedicate this post to the memory of my aunt, whom I first had the chance to speak to when I was 17. We spoke on the phone (she lived in another country). Her very first words to me were: “Hello young man! How are you? How is your sex life?”

(via)

Let’s start off easy.

The first image seems the most banal. But we’ll get back to it.
The second is clearly far from innocent. Or rather, it is its absolute innocence that brings the tension.
Just one more innocent painting to keep you off-guard…

And here we go:Most of Melissa Steckbauer’s spicier pictures are somewhere along the lines of the above. They are people in erotic/sexual situations with animals, realistic or mythical ones. Now, how in the world can she include the first painting you see here (the bear-girl) in the same series, Animalia, as the ones you’ve just seen?
That is precisely what gives the series such power. They demistify us by including us in the myth. This human animal becomes a being of flesh. Of flesh and myth. This teddy bear is the same girl that’s having sex with the dog, moving away from the otherness as it penetrates her. Better: she and the beast are one flesh. They are no different, as if in peace with their unbearable similarity. Look at the man with the bear. What is this? A killing? Could it possibly be a hug? No, it is a hug, be it intended or not. It is flesh, it is warm and cuddly. And foreign. Although harmonious – Steckenbauer insists that for her the crucial issue in terms of eroticism is ethics, which she seems to oppose to a set of taboos. But is there really no taboo? No hidden, dangerous zone? To the contrary, the further she goes, the more mysterious and ambivalent the universe. What is this animal, and how does one distinguish it from oneself?

In the interview at the end of this post, Steckbauer talks about her appreciation for “meat in the painting”. And for softness and gentleness. And one of my favorite works of hers combines these two. It is somewhat different from the others, reminding me of Man Ray, maybe. What can we do, it says, what can we do if this is the touch of flesh, the touch that seems to go through my body, to immobilize us as it multiplies the members and gets us way out into oblivion, a communication made ambiguous, an identity lost, or repainted, or foresaken, for the sake of what, of what, oh don’t ask me, enjoy.

PS: I dedicate this post to the memory of my aunt, whom I first had the chance to speak to when I was 17. We spoke on the phone (she lived in another country). Her very first words to me were: “Hello young man! How are you? How is your sex life?”

(via)

So how was it for YOU?

Not all of Robert Grigolov’s work convinces me. Some of it seems like simple tricks pour épater les bourgeois. But isn’t part of the fun about discovering the value something has for you when taking out of a context which isn’t necessarily one you appreciate?

Why does the above installation have the title Dollar Bill? I don’t know. I have some ideas, but I don’t think I want to follow them. And, just as Daniel Pennac’s 10 Inalienable Rights of the Reader, so any spectator has similar rights, among them, to decide arbitrarily where the work begins and ends for her.

This doesn’t need to mean any sort of glorification of ignorance. However, it does accept it as part of the deal. After all, the spectator is no less free than the artist, is he?

This should be a very obvious question. Aesthetic relativism is something seemingly accepted. Yet the contemporary art world seems to specialize in “right” ways of looking at its creations.
Anything goes – yet there is still plenty of exciting space for dialogue. Tastes are indeed something we discuss and shape, aesthetic experience is a beautifuly shapeable thing. And yet one of the most difficult things is to stay within the play of common value-seeking and exploration of personal experience, and not move into the discourse of competence, the universe of authority, which might sustain a big chunk of what the contemporary art world is about, but is hardly enjoyable for those of us who like their artflesh stupendously raw and intimate.
(via)

Here’s a recent work made by Julius Popp, a German artist:

And here’s a commercial product present since 1989:

Classic questions:
How much of the value is the originality of the project?
How much is there left for the concept? The execution? The richness of the universe that is being created? The “art codes”?
The bluff?
Should one stop/diverge a project upon realizing one is following another’s path too closely?
This latter question is quite recurrent among many of the artists I know. Some opt for stopping, while others simply don’t let go of their toy. After all, they say, isn’t it always mine in the first place? Unintentional plagiarism? So what? If you focus on what you are, on your own path, shouldn’t it always lead to an original work? In the best of possible worlds?

The above excerpt (and pic) was taken from The Cost of Living, a film (and performance) by the British physical theatre company DV8.

I think art is something that makes us look at our lives and to think about them in a way that is more rich. I think there’s a big argument for poetry and for the construction of elements. When somebody writes a great essay, they have taken the words and placed them in a certain way to make you think more deeply about that subject. That is for me the very function of art. You get together, you get a group of people, you place things very carefully in order, and the placement is artificial, but if the integrity and the focus is clear, then hopefully it makes people see their roles more clearly. And think about them. And that’s what I would like to do.
– Lloyd Newson, DV8 director, in a great interview.

Being honest, good and effective is a rare combination in arts. Most contemporary artists avoid at least one of these concepts: honesty is considered by many as a ridiculous idea from art’s perspective, others consider art as being beyond moral issues. But the favorite scapegoat has in the recent years been effectiveness. Many associate it with a commercial, product-based approach that an artist should never accept. Effective, for them, is a synonym for McDonald’s. Effectiveness is about price/quality ratio and looking for the best buy. It goes against the spirit of experimental research we are encouraged to follow. Work-in-progress, work-in-process, open art forms and new modes of production are all back. In some milieus it seems impolite to speak of a finished work. This is a twist of the modernist idea of the “independent” artist, and a curious travesty of the fin-de-siècle artist enclosed in his universe and refusing to give in to the evil, ignorant and lost society. In this updated version, the artist retains the independent status, while accepting a parallel funding of his work. If no form of effectiveness is allowed, we can only rely on a funding that is based on some other form of quality. But what is this quality? How far from the spectacular (the show, the product, the work, the to-be-seen) can it go? It is no coincidence that somewhat similarly to the Grotowskis and Allan Kaprows of the 70s, several contemporary artists decided recently to stop showing their work (or creating any sort of showable work, which amounts to the same). The difference seems to be in how one sees one’s position in the world. While Grotowski and Kaprow moved away to work in relative seclusion from the art milieu (Kaprow concentrated on academic work, but stopped creating public performances). Today, the very shift from product-to-project-to-research is what the milieu is all about.
What is left for the spectator?
The spectator can certainly join the ride and follow each artist’s struggle.
Or wait and see what happens.
Or appreciate the DV8s that go on believing art can be good, and honest – and effective.

Oh were this the universe!
Were it but a combination of lines, a simple picture of perfection, were the universe a set of twigs and seeds with their mathematical omnipotence!
Oh were there nothing else, nothing but the point where everything meets, nothing but the shape it all embodies. And the shadow of the reflection of a shadow of the Work, just to outscore its very depth of space, just to give us the distance we need to be closer.
Oh were it all we need, the joyful meeting of vectors, the unswerving presence of fragility.

Oh were there no shadow in the top left corner, coming from elsewhere.

Both pictures are of sculptures by Christiane Löhr.

Life in motion, in the field of human experience

Everything in life is in motion and everything in the universe–from a thought to a solid rock, from the smallest electron to the entire cosmos– is in a constant state of vibration. Life itself in the present moment are orchestrated like a great symphony.
In sharing this same, reality, dream and Spirit. The struggle for a living/survival, understanding and liberation lives on cycle after cycle.
This progress, force us further. In this evolutionary journey lies the potential to be, to become, more that is and more that have been. Through participation lies the potential for creation, to come inte being.

The human being are shown with her inner essence, force and energies with the colors red and yellow representing this. Sometimes shown in her animal body expressed in situations that reflect different states on a physical, emotional, mental and spiritual level.
The blue color represent the planet, sky and the universe. At the same time a planet in a universe bound by conditions and physical laws. The blues as water stands for emotions and the unconscious. Forces that are influencing and conditioning the human being in her day to day life.

The big empty blues/sky´s are representing the human feeling of loneliness or a belonging. That emptiness also represents humanity´s inner space. An infinite space, a void which is a source of potential(ity) to connect with. The minimalistic environment symbolizing a depth and void of silence, which are inherent and absolute present. This presence and force animates, works in, around and through the paintings. The eternal lifeforce, Spirit, vibrating in one tone, Harmony.

Life in motion, a universal theme presented in a contemporary myth and saga. Communicates, are recognized and fully understood at a soullevel.
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Created by Richard Solstjarna On 10/30/08 At 09:55 AM

Sometimes summer afternoons aren’t meant for lounging outdoors – they’re occasionally better spent finding artful surprises in bookstores.

Such was the case on this day, an unremarkable one until my wandering eye locked onto something of promising note. A book. By the way, most people would agree that they venture into bookstores seeking books. After my experience today, I must say that I disagree. People shop in bookstores because they crave surprises. Yes, in all likelihood, the thing you’ve been looking for will indeed be a book, but is it the book or the thrill of surprise that has you hooked? Hmm. Mystery and philosophy. Do questions never cease?

Anyway, as my gaze ventured down the frittering possibilities among the art book shelf, suddenly a love connection. I saw the book “Actors As Artists. “Hmm, I thought. “Let’s take a look. What a nice surprise.

First of all, “Actors As Artists” authored by actors Jim McMullan and Dick Gautier (Charles E. Tuttle Company, Inc.) was first published back in 1992. That’s not so long ago, but they could certainly give it an update. It’s truly a remarkable book about actors, some more famous than others, who paint in their private time. I’ve just finished flipping through and reading some of it.

It’s really everything an art book should be. With every turn of the page, a surprise. I knew that Anthony Quinn and Jane Seymour painted, but did you know that Zero Mostel and Claudette Colbert were artists? I knew that Billy Dee Williams and Phyllis Diller dabbled, but what about Henry Fonda and Lionel Barrymore? I’m sure Drew knew, but who else had a clue? Mystery revealed. The book is wonderfully unpretentious and it’s so clear that the actors true love may not be acting at all. They paint because they love art.

As I’m sitting here writing and flipping through the book again, a reminder comes to mind. There’s no law of the universe that says we MUST do one and only one thing for our entire lives. In fact, it’s probably just the opposite. If you listen to your creative voice, you can do many things in a single lifetime. That’s how it should be. After all, we’re only here once. While actors get comebacks, no one gets to come back. THIS IS IT. Of course, being an actor doesn’t mean you can pick up a paintbrush and become Paul Gauguin in one stroke. It just means that you went for it. You heard your calling, gathered up the courage and got busy. When you follow your creative leanings, life is full of surprises.

Oh, another thing. Your career is what you do for a living, but what you do in your free time is who you really are. It may not be the WHOLE you, but it’s certainly the REAL you. It’s who you are down in your soul. If you’re an artist down in your soul, you’ve got it goin’ on. In a way, we’re all actors, but how long can you go on ignoring the role of your soul? Ahh, philosophy. What better time than on a summer afternoon?

One of my favorite passages in the book comes from actor Michael Moriarity who says, “Art is not an avocation for me. It is more like a periodic urge to pray in a different way. My pieces exist because there was no other way to reveal what was going on within in me.

In short, I think Michael is saying, “Who needs a Tony, Emmy and Oscar sandwich when you’ve got art feeding you? And let me say, “That’s quite a sandwich!

But seriously, I’m not an art critic, but as a collector, I must say that I’d be thrilled to own anything that I’ve seen in this book. Actor As Artists. I’m so glad that I found this book. You never know what surprise may be lurking around the shelf. Little surprises are the spice of life. One minute, you’re depressed and the next moment, you find something unexpected and you’re laughing at the foolishness of past thoughts.

John Forsythe, an artist? Eve Plumb, who played Jan on “The Brady Bunch, an artist? Who knew? One thing I know for sure Eve probably never yells, “Marcia! Marcia! Marcia! in HER free time.

MICHAEL CORBIN IS AN AVID ART COLLECTOR AND AUTHOR OF THE NEW BOOK, “THE ART OF EVERYDAY JOE: A COLLECTOR’S JOURNAL.” CHECK HIM OUT AT WWW.ARTMAESTROGALLERY.COM

Created by Michael Corbin On 07/21/08 At 10:06 AM