I’m sure you know the work of Roman Opa?ka: he has been painting the same continuous picture since 1965, consisting only of numbers, from 1 to infinity. The work has had some changes over the years, among them, in 1968, the introduction of self-portraits.
At the very enriching exhibition of a part of the permanent collection of the Center for Contemporary Arts in Warsaw, there is a room with some six of his portraits, from various periods of his life.
Today I discovered a curious detail: in this particular collection of photos, the early ones are slightly out of focus. Or rather, the focus is on the hair in the back of the head. The later we get, the better the focus. The last two pictures, of Opa?ka past 70, have his eyes perfectly in focus. As if the disappearing of the numbers was accompanied by the appearing of the person. As if he was more himself.
I’m sure this is a coincidence. But why should I care? What’s wrong with a little hermeneutics? Can’t we accept conceptual art to have a life of its own, one that eludes its original readings? Isn’t the fact that Duchamp’s Fountain has long disappeared, and was recreated by the artist many decades later (in several copies) because of interest in the work, isn’t this a wonderful enrichment of the original work?
It might be considered a useless stretch of the pure concept. Like overdoing something that was meant to be simple. Possibly. I’ll have it my way.

How do artists make a living?
Besides the selected few who actually make a living from their work, how can an artist afford to be an artist?
The bottom line is: should art pay for itself? Should it be efficient in an economic sense?
Most practicing artists either have money from their day jobs, or from their families.
The funny thing is: the first group seem heroic, and the second – fakes.
Why? Why is there so much resentment towards people who decide to spend the money they have on doing something they love?
Is it because we, as the public, feel betrayed, as if they stopped playing the game with their audience? After all, if they don’t care about (our, or government – which comes out to the same) money, aren’t we left aside?
(What’s wrong with being left aside? Hm. Of course, this modernist idea can come in handy. But I’ve been writing about it elsewhere.)
Come think of it – would we feel it wrong for a rich person to buy an expensive car? A big house? So why do we want him to feel guilty for spending the money into something we might actually appreciate? It turns art into a hobby, you say? So what?

Below, completely unrelated (at least not that I know), is the work of Paulo Ventura.

From Chicago’s pride, the Millenium Park, comes a cruel, yet fascinating, story of public art gone wrong.
BOTH of the public sculptures it opened recently, one by the Van Berkel atelier, and the other by Zaha Hadid, got damaged by the all-too-loving public.
Looks quite nice from above, doesn’t it? If you go to ground level, it’s even more inspiring. Here’s a look at Hadid’s work:

The entire structure, made of aluminum, is covered with cloth. Now let’s take a look inside this spaceship.

Get the picture?
One of the key statements of the manifesto of a group of artists presenting the exhibition Unusually Rare Events is that the artist does not need to think about the spectator when creating the work. Agreed. However, when creating a public work of art (mind you, to some extent any work of art is public), he might want to consider that his work will possibly not only be appreciated like this:

but also like this:

And those, of course, are the “nice” visitors.
The question arises: should we stay with “public-proof” solutions? Hire teams of guards to keep the aura going? Or maybe consider every mark and hole as part of the (pardon the pun) holistic concept of the work of art?

Now I wonder how these marvellously designed shoes by Zaha Hadid feel:
Not to mention the London Aquatics Centre, to be one of the main venues of the 2012 Summer Olympics.
(via)

For those of us who live immersed in the digital world, which certainly includes you as an Absolute Arts blog reader, it is most likely nearly incomprehensible how a modern day artist, or businessperson of any sort, could not be partially, if not fully, connected in the social marketing world. Truly, these days most would think how can anyone serious about getting ahead not be wholly represented on “The Social Marketing Grid” with a Facebook page, Twitter and Linkedin accounts et cetera?

The reality is there are plenty of people with serious careers and serious career ambitions who have not and are not interested in joining the minions on the great social networking experiment that consumes so many others. Is it really possible to be successful or to grow a meaningful career without issuing a single tweet? The simple answer as always remains yes.

Here’s a last century example that remains germane to the argument today. For many years, I sold advertising and show space for Decor magazine and its sister Decor Expo tradeshows. Both served the art and picture framing industry. In the day, Decor’s annual Sources directory and Atlanta Decor Expo shows were huge successes on every level. Quite simply, anybody who was anyone in the decorative art and picture framing business would never consider not robustly participating in both. To do so would be career suicide by being obvious by one’s absence.

There is a direct correlation today between the implied “must participate” in those vehicles as there is in being fully active in the social networking arena. However, then just as now, there were artists and companies that chose not to go along with the crowd and consciously avoided participating in what seemed to all others to be an apparent choice.

Back then, much to my confounded consternation, there were artists and publishers I knew who were enjoying success that would be the envy of many of my regular advertising customers and show exhibitors, yet they were not spending money to promote themselves in the splendid and effective marketing vehicles I represented. It took a long time for me to realize that just because the evidence seemed to irrefutably prove participation in such activities paid results there would be those who would resist the opportunity.

So, despite my eloquent presentations and urgent pleas to not miss the ship about to sail, there were holdouts that steadfastly refused to be motivated. Their reasons were not always the same, but I think the primary reason is not unlike what you see today, which goes like this: “Yes, I can intellectually grasp there is opportunity in what is being offered. However, I’m doing just fine without the bother. And, despite the powerful lure those things have for many people, they have no interest for me.”

It was harder then for me to grasp their choices. Perhaps this was so because then I had a financial stake in persuading them. Being more involved and invested in their participation made me more passionate about my attempts to evangelize them into partaking. Today, with more maturity and less at stake, it’s easier to accept there are those who have no interest in getting a Facebook page and who are equally willing to suffer the consequences of not playing a part in the social networking revolution.

The question for artists today is can they have a successful career without having a Facebook page, a blog, a Twitter account and so forth? Despite what current proponents of these and other social marketing tools have to say, I believe it is completely possible. Admittedly, I am one of those proponents. You can find plenty of articles among the 200+ blog posts I’ve published on my Art Print Issues blog that encourage artists to get involved with these tools.

Despite what I think and promote regarding advancing an artist’s career, I deem it is possible for an artist to achieve notable success without having much more than a phone and an email address. While I think it makes the proposition of attaining success more difficult for most, I am convinced that it’s not impossible or even implausible to gain notoriety and perhaps even museum collectible attention without being a card carrying member of the social networking movement.

Of course, if the artist is not a willing participant, it still would be a great benefit if his or her benefactors, i.e., gallerists, reps, dealers and collectors promoted the work in online social spaces mentioned here. But, at the heart of it, a long running successful art career is built one brick at a time. And, that can be done in a variety of ways, not all related to the digital world. In fact, in spite of my cheerleading for Web 2.0 type involvement, I think it would be foolhardy for most artists today to focus exclusively on social marketing while ignoring traditional forms of marketing.

When I was repping Decor and Decor Expo, a regular question was, “How do I decide where to allocate my marketing dollars?” It remains a viable question today. My answer has not changed much. That is, decide what you perceive to offer the best return on investment and give it the biggest chunk. Then spread the rest available, within the realistic constraints of what an individual or small business can do with time, financial and personnel resources, among all the rest.

For artists to achieve success the goal, whether in the 21st Century or the last, remains the same: Seek to build a viable dealer/gallery/collector base to grow your business. Then nourish and replenish with vigor. Make it part of your business plan and every work day in some fashion. If you are fortunate to have someone working for you, make sure it is an even more important part of their working day. The slow steady pace of the turtle in the race is still the sure way to succeed in business. To do otherwise is foolish. For instance, hoping to become an overnight success is the equivalent of buying lottery tickets as a financial plan.

Adding a dealer or gallery here, finding a few collectors at a show there. Digging up media support with press releases and participation in charity and other notable events and sending direct mail can all be done without ever tweeting a word. An artist who has motivated quality reps on the road making old fashioned cold calling presentations still works. While advertising in consumer and trade magazines and tradeshows may not deliver the same impact as when I was in my heyday with such vehicles, they nevertheless offer opportunity for artists who effectively utilize them.

Although I offer an alternative perspective, I still encourage artists to join me on my Art Print Issues blog, to get a website and blog of their own, and to exchange tweets with me at www.twitter.com/barneydavey or to friend me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/barney.davey. I will fully understand if you choose not to engage in social marketing. Further, I will happily support you and may even be one who chooses to publicize you for the quality of your work and for achieving success while going your own way.

Barney Davey
www.artprintissues.com

Created by Barney Davey On 07/16/09 At 03:16 PM

Back in April 2009 a reader of my Blogs for AbsoluteArts posted the following comment:
“On the www.albertosughi.com website there is a very powerful painting called “Ruling class”. Would love to participate in a discussion on that piece.” Since then I committed myself to holding such a discussion and today I will try to maintain that promise. Possibly in order to understand The Ruling Class (“La Classe Dirigente, Oil on Canvas, 165×140cm, 1965) we need to place and read it in the context of another group of works also painted between 1964 and 1965. So let’s start by examining the Historic Moment (L’Ora Storica), a work I painted at the end of 1964 and that clearly is a prelude to The Ruling Class itself.

This is a triptych, 165 by 420 centimetres, one of the paintings that most reflect if not the world of Bacon, at least Bacon’s style, clawing at the canvas, his very open way of painting first on unprepared canvas, with a great sweep of background colouring, that had a strong influence on me. I felt most attracted to three painters: Degas, Munch and Bacon. In fact, I then felt an affinity between them, even if secretly, not from the thematic point of view, but as a way of confronting the canvas, a great affinity between Degas and Bacon.

In fact, Bacon was influenced by Sickert, who was influenced by Degas, and had a certain way of painting nudes that could also allude to the scabrous style of Munch. A painter who has no problems with poetics, because he is sure of always being himself, does not have any difficulty in stealing from others what can serve for his own paintings. I mean that painting derives from painting, but is continually modified when it meets an artist who is not contaminated by the poetics of someone else, but appropriates methods, techniques, ways of giving strength to his own imagination. This is a painting, a triptych. It has Bacon’s style, but does not represent anything that Bacon’s work represents. It is a painting inspired by the criticism of the Italian political world and the refusal of the ‘historic compromise’. We are afraid of governments, afraid that someone will stand at a black pulpit or on a black throne. When I painted the black of the desk I was even reminded of Malevitch’s black square. And then there is a figure without a face getting up, in the act of taking off his jacket in readiness for command. If we want to digress to consider the subject-matter, I could have stolen the title from Goya, ‘The sleep of reason generates monsters’.

Immediately after the Triptych I worked at a group of new paintings: Man at the window 1964 , Man with a dog 1965 and The Ruling Class itself.

In this group of paintings there is, in comparison with my previous work, the addition of a geometrization above the figures or imprisoning them, locking them in, as in a cage, or giving them greater prominence, as in Man at the window, who is looking out from the inside. Even in Man with a dog there are two lines, almost pointing to the door out of which the master is coming, and the dog goes towards him. Above all in The ruling class we see some geometrical shapes overhanging the figures. There is a geometrization that was previously absent and that is very clear during this period. In commenting on these paintings I can say that every time that I have faced the problem of The Ruling Class – even the Triptych faced that problem – I have always spoken of it as if the reason could be found there – the root of the discomfort of contemporary man – almost as if really the job of the managerial classes is to make life easier for everybody. Whoever has the job of redistributing wealth and power, of making the rules, is rather, in effect, a figure who doesn’t have anything to say to others, but only to himself.

Today we speak of a political caste. Every time that I have represented anything concerning politics, I have always spoken as if it is a caste. And it is strange that even in a painting that was painted much later, in the eighties, but that is connected with these themes, called Roman Sunset, we see politicians bowing, kissing a naked woman who represents corruption, representing everything that a powerful Rome manages in inconceivable ways. As if to say that those who represent us represent nothing more than themselves, and that we are therefore alone in dealing with something that will never arrive, like the man, like men standing at a window and waiting for something, a person or an event, that will never come.

Once the painter and novelist Dino Buzzati, speaking of my painting, said that it reminded him of Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett, men waiting for something that will never happen. He was perhaps thinking of his The Desert of the Tartars, but, in fact, I do have an idea that Man cannot find something that he knows could exist, but that is hidden who knows where. After all, if I wanted to describe these characters, I would say that they propose the figure of a man who would like to wait and believe, but who has lost the faith for believing.

Alberto Sughi
For more info on Alberto Sughi see. www.albertosughi.com

Created by Alberto Sughi On 07/09/09 At 11:22 AM

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

Combine air, space, track lighting, concrete, glass, metal, a cool king-size bed to rest your sleepy head and you’re totally there.

You’ve got what may or may not be your typical hip hotel. However, as I write these oh so urbane words, I’m not in your run of the mill sleek abode. I’m taking up pricy space in this totally hip place.
21C.
My trip here actually began a couple of years ago when I first heard about it. “When I finally decide to visit Louisville for another art trip, I going to stay there,” I thought to myself.

But of course, time and expenses or lack thereof intervened and my arrival was much delayed … but here I am slumping over the keyboard in a thick groove as Marvin Gaye croons, “What’s Goin’ On” through the speakers piped in overhead.

I’m sitting in what can only be described as an art gallery because that’s exactly what it is … an art gallery. I’m on the basement floor below and adjacent to the main lobby of the 21C Museum Hotel. Within my line of sight are lookers and gawkers who are pointing and chatting and oohing and aahing. Like me, they’re here for the night or perhaps for a just glimpse of what all the talk is about.

Well, I can’t exactly say it’s the talk of the town because I’m no townie, but it seems that nearly everyone in the art world has heard of this hot spot. Finally, someone dreamed of putting a true, literally down-to-earth art gallery in a hotel … or did they build a hotel around an art gallery? Pick your passion, but both are working like a charm on this art lover. Why wouldn’t it? This is the first of my art trips in which art and lodging didn’t just run parallel or perpendicular, they’re literally hand in hand. The hotel IS the art and the art IS the hotel.

About thirty feet away from me on the opposite wall, I’m drooling over three, long horizontal Mikhael Subotzky (South African) archival pigment photo prints depicting prison situations. They’re “Cell 25,” “Reception” and “Cell 508b,” all studies from inside Voorberg and Pollsmoor Prisons (2004).

In the adjacent room are fourteen of Kara Walker’s refreshingly politically-incorrect framed lithographs. Up until now, I had only seen her work in museums and at the big art fairs, but gazing at them here in a real life setting makes them more accessible.

There are four nice-sized galleries off the main gallery where I’m now sitting. It’s a soaring, brick, steel beamed, white-walled, art loft. Just what the art doctor ordered for inquisitive travelers.

In my time here, visitors have come up and down and criss-crossed the space, marching on the sanctity of my art lodging dream. Their chit-chat is inconsequential, but precisely the point. This is what art SHOULD do. It should force dialogue, however shallow or profound and that chat should happen within the confines of a unique hotel. They just don’t make ‘em quite like this.

PAUSE

As I pause, I’m looking upward at a gigantic, full-bodied, digital print of a mainly nude woman who looks like Bjork from afar, but I don’t think it is. All I know is while the piped-in music plays Stevie Wonder’s, “Boogie On A Reggae Woman,” I’m smiling at this raven-haired, alabaster beauty with her arms outstretched and her taut breasts in full view with a hint of linen loincloth hugging her lovely hips. She’s standing on a white background, perhaps somewhat Christ-like … or is she mocking Christ? That wouldn’t be very nice. Either way, artist Sukran Moral (Turkish) has made what he calls “Artista” (1994) perfection. Is it Bjork? The way I’m feeling now, it doesn’t matter. She’s gorgeous nonetheless.
The long and short of it is you don’t get this everyday in your run of the mill hip hotel. This is art as art should be seen. I want to take each and every one of these works up to my uber-hip room and then out the door as I depart.

But alas, no such deed will I do. I’ll just remember this place and this space and think that finally someone has done contemporary art the justice it’s due. They’ve made 7th & Main the intersection of lodging and art. There’s art on every floor and in almost every nook and cranny … installation pieces too.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that moments before I checked in, I saw a couple of guys decked out in cream colored suits. I didn’t think much about it until I headed up to my room on the fourth floor (401) and the elevator doors opened. Waiting for the other elevator across the hall was a blonde bride looking as lovely and as modern as could be. With that, a light-bulb went on over my head like the artful lights installed in the elevator ceiling.

“Oh! You must be the bride!” I said. “Yes, Hi!” she replied. “You look lovely. Congratulations,” I said. “Thanks!” she replied, beaming as only young brides can beam. Hmm. Maybe she was merely a model at a photo shoot.

In any event, here’s the real point. Should you hold a wedding or any other special bash in a hip, art hotel? You bet your ass you should. Each one gives the other greater purpose.

Assuming it was a true wedding event, the bride and groom probably paid a pretty penny for 21C. I wonder if they got to ride away in that red, bejeweled 21C limousine I saw out front. Even the limo is art!

It’s like I always say. When you bring art into the picture, it’s a kick ass scene … or perhaps I should be a bit more urbane and just say … it’s a no brainer.

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 WEBSITE AT WWW.ARTBOOKGUY.COM

Created by Michael Corbin On 06/22/09 At 11:16 AM

This will be my last post from the UAE. In fact by the time you read this I will already be on my way back to gorgeous grey clouds of the average UK summertime. The last two years of living first in Dubai and then in Sharjah, have been a decidedly mixed experience but I have learned a lot and really enjoyed the exposure to the diverse international art I have seen here. What is perhaps most bizarre is that it took me several months to find an actual Emirati artist but now they seem to be everywhere. It has been very interesting to see how phenomenally the cultural sector has grown just in the last two years and how arts development can become a kind of nationalism in the absence of any other type of overt political statement! I actually arrived in Dubai in May 2007 in the final week of the 8th Sharjah Biennale so I didn’t get to see very much of it. However, 2007 seems to have been the key year. Dubai held its first international Art Fair and fringe in March and not to be outdone, Abu Dhabi followed suit with Art Paris-Abu Dhabi in November. Galleries started to proliferate and three very distinct art areas emerged in Dubai which now has plans for a Museum of Modern Middle Eastern Art, an opera house and various other museums and arts dedicated areas. Meanwhile Abu Dhabi is getting a ‘starchitect’ designed Guggenheim, Louvre, Maritime museum and performing arts centre.

The culmination of all this activity seems to have been the launch of the first ever UAE pavilion at this year’s Venice Biennale. Actually the UAE had not one, but two pavilions at Venice…. the competitive squabbling between Dubai and Abu Dhabi even spilled over into the most prestigious art platform in the world resulting in one national UAE pavilion organised out of Dubai and a Platform for Venice set up by Abu Dhabi.

However, despite this frenzy of arts and cultural development which has really raised the UAE’s international profile it is still not a good environment for artists on the ground unless they have substantial independent economic means. It is a very expensive place to live (although rents are coming down since the credit crunch), there is almost no studio space and the constant pressure to earn money is just not conducive to artistic output. In two years I have reworked some old paintings, produced four average prints, a digital montage of the Dubai skyline and four towers of trash! However, the towers were a great success and gave me two of the highlights of my time here. They were exhibited first in the Creek Art fair in Dubai and then travelled to the Cultural Foundation in Abu Dhabi where they were part of an exhibition and panel discussion on Art and the Environment. It’s a shame I never got to exhibit anything in Sharjah but another real highlight was working on the Sharjah Biennale catalogue and I am very happy I was able to do that. It gave me a lot to think about on many different levels and I have assimilated (i.e. stolen) ideas about processes, materials, concepts and ways of communicating that I will take back to the UK with me. I don’t know yet how this and all my experiences over the past two years will come out in my work. However, the best thing is that I go back to the UK knowing I have a rare period ahead of me where I simultaneously have the two key commodities of time AND money! This means that I can sift through it all at leisure in my own space and then just focus on externalisation and production. I have (mostly) enjoyed being a facilitator, promoter and reviewer of other peoples art over the past two years BUT I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to just being an artist for while again.

Created by Valerie Grove On 06/19/09 At 11:27 AM

Over the last three months, the CAPC contemporary art museum in Bordeaux has played host to the French artist Jean-Luc Blanc, organising a vast retrospective of his work.

Born in 1965 in Nice, Jean-Luc Blanc started his artistic career by drawing, gradually venturing towards painting. This picture-lover takes constant inspiration from the numerous media that our society puts forward, gleaning images from magazines, newspapers, postcards, and films. After a frenzied period of collecting and accumulation, several pictures ‘impose’ themselves to Jean-Luc Blanc, and he selects these to paint. Transferring a small picture to a larger-sized painting allows the artist to give a second life to the image – he says himself that photography is an execution, painting a resuscitation. Giving pictures selected from our everyday life a new purpose, cancelling their first meaning, bringing anonymity to stars, conferring new-found glory on John Does – this is Jean-Luc Blanc’s game. With this somewhat simple and repetitive technique, the artist masterfully allows the spectator to come across a new image, free of its past, and open to interpretation. Discovering Jean-Luc Blanc’s work allows us to come to terms with our own personal way of looking at art.

Along with over two hundred of his paintings and drawings, forty-five other artists have been brought together by Jean-Luc Blanc and the Parisian curator Alexis Vaillant to be part of this retrospective.
Indeed, when invited to create a retrospective of his work, Jean-Luc Blanc couldn’t conceive his canvasses without the production of other artists, contemporary or historical, that have influenced him throughout his career. Add to that antiques and anonymous objects, artworks from the municipal museums of Bordeaux, and you have a fully blown ‘Opera Rock’, an eclectic collection of the desires and inspirations of Jean-Luc Blanc, set out in thirteen rooms of the second floor gallery of the CAPC.
Along with sound effects orchestrated by Mr. Learn, and the phantom of the French writer Marguerite Duras hanging over the exhibition, the CAPC has successfully managed to give you the feeling of entering into Jean-Luc Blanc’s mind and understanding his approach as an artist, his world of imagination and creation. This 3D version of his brain is characterised by a diversity of techniques, a medley of generations and nationalities, and a multiplicity of truths.

Works by Michel Blazy, paintings by Dan Attoe, bestial sculptures by Laurent Le Deunff, and photographs by Diane Arbus dialogue with installations by Vidya Gastaldon, hand-crafted objects by Shannon Bool, shotgun paintings by William Burroughs, videos by Brice Dellsperger and lithography by Odilon Redon. All of these accompany the enigmatic paintings of Jean-Luc Blanc, communicating as if old friends.
Portraits face abstract oil paintings, delicate porcelain ornaments sit side by side with ancient mummy hands, wooden silhouettes talk to metal-wire spiders… Almost three hundred artworks share the space of this exhibition, an original and quasi extensive portrayal of the thoughts of Jean-Luc Blanc, a way to understand his art differently and to combine backstage (the inspiration of the artist) with the stage itself (his own production), symbolised here by the tall black screens (as if in a theatre) that accompany the visitor the further he ventures into the exhibition.

Let yourself be drawn into this artist’s space – you won’t be disappointed.

Jean-Luc Blanc, Opera Rock
From the 25th of March to the 14th of June 2009
CAPC musée d’art contemporain de Bordeaux, France

Created by Alice Cavender On 06/04/09 At 03:20 PM

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.