It’s come around quick – but we are now inviting submission for EMERGENCY6!
Find out more at www.aspex.org.uk/emergency6
It’s come around quick – but we are now inviting submission for EMERGENCY6!
Find out more at www.aspex.org.uk/emergency6
It was quite a close-run race towards the end, but after several months of furious voting, both in the gallery & on the exhibition blog, Dan’s mirrored pieces have scooped the prize of £500. Congratulations Dan!
Dan’s work for EMERGENCY5 uses mirrors which have been modified, their surfaces altered to reveal what it takes to change a piece of glass into a reflective object, how an everyday material is elevated by the addition of layers of metallic paint. In this way Untitled (Tiffany) allows the viewer to encounter ‘a manipulation of their image and immediate space.’
In Dan’s words ‘The dual reflective-transparent surfaces of the angled panes creates a distortion and sense of displacement; a disorientation of a material manufactured specifically to mimic and frame our sense of place.’
For further information about Dan’s work & his upcoming exhibitions visit his website at dancoopey.weebly.com
Our thanks to everyone who has voted since the exhibition opened, to all of those who left comments about the artists, and of course to the artists themselves. Huge thanks also to Markus Lloyd, whose contributions broadened the scope of this blog, and allowed those who didn’t manage to visit aspex during the exhibition to get a real sense of EMERGENCY5, from start to finish, and all in between.
For information about aspex’s upcoming exhibitions please visit the gallery website, and follow aspex on Twitter or Facebook
There’s just a few days left to vote for your favourite EMERGENCY5 artist – whoever receives the most votes will win £500! You can vote as often as you like, but the poll will close on Monday 9 January at noon. The winner will be announced the following day on this blog, and also on aspex’s website, Facebook and Twitter feeds.
The exhibition will close on Sunday 8 January – don’t miss your chance to see work by 12 emerging artists at aspex. The gallery is open daily from 11am – 4pm.
Festive greetings from all those involved with Emergency5 – all the artists, the staff of aspex and those unattributed (you know who you are). May the coming New Year bring you some joy, and bring one of the Emergency5 exhibitors 500 quid, the People’s Choice.
We don’t get much snow in Portsmouth. It’s something to do with the Isle of Wight sheltering us. Last January started with a blizzard though. Those who managed to get to the gallery (a fifteen minute journey took an hour and a half!), yup, we opened up – the show goes on. After two hours we closed. Nobody needs to look at art when the world’s been redecorated, renewed (momentarily). It’s curious, the wonder people exhibit when nature gilds the everyday with a squeak-weight of frozen h2o. It’s quite mundane, irregular, not revolutionary – snow. If snow were an artwork, it might be akin to a Caravaggio or Van Gogh, something immediate and effective – something agreed on as great (gggrrreat! as Tony the Tiger would have it – and he’s well-familiar with frost[ies]). Nobody, I expect, draws back their curtains of a morning and seeing a whiteout says ‘seen it – repetitive – unoriginal’. Snow is welcome. It’s meanings, factual and mythical, are retold and revised – rituals are enacted – the pros and cons of it lauded (snow-days versus impassable roads) – it’s simple contrast, whites and colour, celebrated. Snow is prayed for. Shouldn’t it be the same when people visit a gallery? They ought to be transported (somewhere) by newness – a newness like that of snow, something well understood changing the ordinary into fresh territory, a playground, a blank sheet.
I’ve had the following conversation with many punters, ‘Is there anything that explains [gestures toward exhibition] all this?’ – ‘yes, there is. we’ve information on the artists and their practice, books and web content relevant to the exhibition…’ – ‘I just don’t get it, and I look at at a lot of art, but, this, I don’t get it, where do I start?’ – ‘with the artwork, does it suggest anything to you? does it in any way chime with anything in your own experience? do you like the way it looks?’ – ‘It’s too [waves a hand in the air], it’s beyond me’. They always suggest they lack the ‘training’ to understand, as if you learn the formulae at Art College. You do, but you don’t. Contemporary Art is closer to academia than it is to the domestic – it deals in abstracts (not Cubism, or that), in philosophical and metaphysical notions, in semantics and science. It doesn’t do pictures to hang above the mantelpiece. But, it does. It does all things. Contemporary Art deals in the concrete of thought. The weight and quality of that though varies from individual artist to individual artwork. The skill sets have changed. A poor draftsman can still articulate great things through drawing. Just as a naturally gifted painter might have nothing worthwhile to say. The material of making art has opened out to include everything – that’s why few arts degrees are broken up into the old streams of Painting, Sculpture and Printmaking. There might once have been some sniping between the new and old, like that between Alternative Comedians and Jimmy Tarbuck-like comedians. But, that all ended in a truce years and years ago. Is it the public that’s not kept up or did we leave them behind? I think we’ve left them confused!
Contemporary Art exists in a number of parallel ribbons. There’s the commercial, the stuff that sells for silly money that they lambast in tabloids – or the certified art (being as how it’s antique) that is sold for record silly money, which we ought to save from export. There’s the grant-maintained, the art the Arts Council sanctions, that relies on the patronage of wealth, that shelters under the canopy of charity. There’s the so-called ‘local artists’ – those who do art, some with degrees in art, nearly all amateur, who are the angriest, most indignant of all. There’s the academic, that shines narrow beams of torchlight into deeper and deeper caverns of thought. Then, then there’s the failing, flailing artists – who life steers further and further from their calling, into jobs that might pay for art but leave no space or time for art – an experience not unique to artists – these are the everyman artists, because life dictates what they become, not inclination.
These are all pretty distinct groups. The commercial is the richest, but the smallest sphere. The largest is the failing, flailing artist – there’s one under every stone. The world of ACE is hermetic. Bands of ‘local artists’ do not wander the country, which is the point, they occupy towns and cities, progressing like sloths, not because they’re lazy or useless but because they are sloths doing as sloths do. Academia is a secret society, or a sanctuary, a monastery. There’s really little crossover – if you recognise the segregation. To the punter, and his mouthpieces, Contemporary Art is just a bunch of…
And that’s what’s happened, instead of a snowy newness, there exists a bullshittiness between the art and its latent audience. It’s a hard rain we require. Or we accept the art is not egalitarian or necessary – that it’s a minority occupation producing for a minority.
Hey. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. And,
It might be the People’s Prize that is most coveted by the Emergency5 artists. Not only because it represents the opinion of a greater audience than a panel of judges, but, with economies collapsing, the 500 quid might see them through Christmas. Being an ‘Artist’ isn’t usually a career in itself. Most successful artists do some teaching, lecturing or tutoring at one or more universities. Art colleges like to employ practitioners, which is useful. When budgets are cut, it is often the Arts that take a brutal hit. All jobs are at risk nowadays, jobs in the Arts are just riskier. The recent graduates among our Emergency5 exhibitors will struggle to finance the continuation of their practice – though inclusion in this show and others akin to it help attract what funding there is. You can be creative on the cheap, I was always reminded ‘all it takes is a pencil and paper’ – yet, realistically, to achieve success you need to invest in your own practice. It might be the rent on a studio, on purchasing the best materials you can, or buying time – time is essential and it’s expensive. Employment eats away at time, but everyone must eat. Poverty eats into time, stability and well-being are necessities.
It’s said that Art survives and is strengthened by economic disaster. That might be so. You can easily appreciate the excesses of artists over the last decade cannot be continued, financially or morally – jewel encrusted skulls, figures cast in gold. The Age of Spectacle is truly done. Or, its practitioners are running on silent, until… Does money make ‘art’ easier?
It’s obvious that having enough dosh to live and focus on your art must be of benefit – the edge given by hunger is pretty blunt, really. But, having the money to spend on making, on fine construction and materials, doesn’t that often disguise impoverished thought or ideas. The ‘wow’ of rich fabric, immense scale or outrageous folly, is it enough? Art and money have always moved forward hand in hand. In the Twentieth Century, few renowned artists came from poor or working class background – there are exceptions, but most exponents of visual art had some stable income (or recourse to someone’s wealth). Visual art is probably still a largely Upper Middle Class occupation. But, the economic reasons for this imbalance are no longer as assured – as the gap between rich and poor grows wider.
With the eventual birth of new economies will we get new modes of art, as yet unperceived of? It’s to be hoped.
The following is a blah – meaning it isn’t an essay, it’s a riff – I mean all of it, but that doesn’t mean its definitive – it’s really chasing a bee, one idea, to see if it has legs – it is in no terms a critical appraisal of the art or artists in the Emergency5 exhibition – it is a mode of thinking – it is a leg in a journey of appreciation and understanding of the art in the show – this is a single facet of a many-many sided form
Zeitgeist. Processing the hundreds of applications to Emergency is a whizz through a burgeoning scene. It doesn’t signify ‘now’ – because the applicants we attract consider themselves emerging [hey! now you get the title], meaning they’re recent graduates, post-graduates or inside that bubble before a significant solo show. ‘Now’ is the domain of the broken through (that become the broken, as horses are broken – that leads them into the knacker’s yard, of some celebrity, perhaps, where they are glue). It’s a cynical allusion, but the Arts are a stampede, an endless ongoing. In fact, ‘now’ is only a photo of a blur of motion. Our minds will stillness, an explicable frame of events. Zeitgeist. Emergency 5 is a polaroid of what might be/is happen/ing next. To be fair, to those who weren’t selected, there could’ve been three or more versions of the exhibition, each with different artists – and those shows would’ve demonstrated an alternative facet of… of just about to… So, getting to the point, what does this actual Emergency5 lay bare?
Empiricism? I think so. Empiricism is the usual impetus of untutored artists (born of childhood, of touchy-feelie reaction to stuff, to believing what we feel – physically and emotionally – to be a true and explicit explanation of who, what and where we are). I’m not saying any of the Emergency5 exhibitors are untutored artists, I’m saying it’s because they are both trained and talented that the evident empiricism in most of the work is notable.
It might seem most demonstrable in the ‘stripped’ mirrors of Dan Coopey – because they’ve a quality of Abstract Expressionism, nodding to Robert Motherwell, and the fact they revel in the material of their making. You might even propose the schismatic views that the mirror grouping reflect analogous with an empiric outlook, but I don’t – not fully. There’s too much of ‘drawing’ in the work – though Dan told me the process of removing the silvering from the mirror back was not overly considered, because of the manner of that removal, painter strippers and 0000 wire wool – Untitled (Stutter) is observational, depicting the occurrence of mirrors in an urban environment. They are the ricochet of viewpoints that bombard you in upmarket shopping centres, nightclubs, and anywhere wanting to earmark ‘glamour’ as its metatag. Recent and various 1980s-centric fashions in music, in graphics, in visual art and in fashion, have used the cheap brilliance and vanity inherent in mirrors (and shiny surfaces) as a cornerstone. Dan’s mirrors are also the vandalised, the derelict, the shabbiness of urban streets – they’re the true leftovers of the 1980s of steel and glass – they’re bus stations, redundant shopping precincts, what cheap glamour becomes, tinfoil. They’re rainwater on asphalt. They are endless compositions of shifting perspectives. Coopey’s work in Emergency5 becomes empiric through our reading, only partly in its making, in Dan’s eye for a visual poem.
Julian Brown’s paintings are an excellent example of this ’empiricism’ I’m debating exists in the show. They seem hybrid-born of British Colour Field (Hoyland), material and process fixated painters like Ian Davenport, of early Soviet Abstract Expressionism, of Philip Guston, and of absolutely loads of that kind of thing. Brown indulges paint in its substance nature – to a degree. He allows – provokes? – dribbles and splutters, letting the material seep free of its bondage in the image -it clearly satisfies Julian, lending the work an aesthetic he desires, one he’s promoting – therefore, its significant. There’s a dirtiness in the surface quality, to the skin of the works – a nicotine-stained, aged varnish, sickliness. The effect is one of salvage, of canvases dishwashed and retouched. Elements within the composition overlay each other or they burst through or they’re clasped into place. The shapes infer (for me) architectural features, roofing tiles, repeat mouldings, brick wall, floor patterns – patterns, the paintings are of patterns that are broken, into, through or isolated. Like Dan Coopey’s mirrors, Brown’s work seems urban – there’s something Rising Damp, something bill board or fly posted, something of scrubbed-at graffiti. The thingness of the work, its object self, is its statement. Ours, the audience, the distanced, ours is an emotive response, we must react to what Brown expresses, it’s not a cipher we can solve – instead, relying on commonality, on a mutual appreciation of a nod in the direction of, – a poem in its function. It walks in and around a garden of sense without latin names, without science, without a narrative or a map or anything, except the paintings and their titles. Buccaneer, Zapora, Tonka. Pirates and treasure, jewels, seas, bravado? Polish for ‘obstacle’? [Polish, as in Polska, and not polish] Hefty, yellow and unbreakable toys for boys? They are useless clues, they signify anything and everything you might conjecture, they lead nowhere via routes of hither and thither. What is there of ‘buccaneer’ in the painting Buccaneer? Whatever Julian’s own machination, we’re left with empiric works – a dialogue to be had between the artist-individual and the viewer-individual and everyone else.
Why are we hesitant to admit to work that is empiric? All artwork is, ultimately – whatever the notions of quasi-science or actual science (paint is chemistry) or the faux formulae involved in the generation of the piece – choosing to reference, utilise or evoke the self-detachment of a scientist is a mode an artist adopts to best essay ‘experience’, testing the nature of ‘being’, of their being – imbuing the resultant art thing with empiricism.
Whoa. If all visual art is fundamentally empiric, well, how’s Emergency5 signposting anything new? [Good question – words ‘paint’ and ‘corner’ come to mind]
Okay. Lets bump the word ’empiric’ and sustain its relevance using ‘expressionism’ – because that’s an easy arty concept. I’ve made reference to Abstract Expressionism in reference to Julian Brown’s paintings – that was a movement seeking to wrestle individuality free of the remaining strictures of a rigid society – a lot of the Arts in the late 1950s were about it too (in film James Dean and Youth were rebelling, literature was Beating at the walls, jazz went Bee-bop) – artists were shaking off the last trappings of repression they’d thought would *poof* disappear with the end of WW2. Before WW2, Expressionism was narrative, attempting to illustrate the horror, wickedness and corruption of Man, standing witness to the rise of Fascism, the collapse of an old economy and the focusing of power in the hands of the Business/Media. There was some joyful, manic blasts of new freedoms won sounding out of the forming USSR – before Stalin, before the Iron Curtain descended. What connects all modes of ‘Expressionism’ is the animism of materials. Oil paint thickens, loosens, emotes. Materials become extensions of gesture – beyond the inherent gesticulation of brush, of mark-making. Stuff became indicative of emotion, of psyche. In the Fifties, artists adopted modern, classless, disenfranchised stuff/materials to primal scream – to visit themselves on the world. It was loud, fast and savage work, not as thoughtless as it appears – it was expression constructed of ordinariness, of stuff without prestige or critical history. House paint, paint tins, roofing felt, bitumen – yep, pretty blue-collar and domestic, bedsit and Thunderbird wine. Those that became Pop Artists etc in the 60s, they chilled, enjoyed the free affluence of the times, barefoot and righteous, and had little self to express (they protested in unison, as confederates – they were angry about things not just projecting inner turmoil). But, these artists maintained this lexicon of stuff, of emotive material – but the quality of that emotion changed, it diversified, grew subtle. Metals, plastics, new materials and production methods leant greater eloquence to expression, to relating individual-life experience. This revery in material stuff flipped 360 degrees in the late 60s and Seventies – counter-culture deplored ‘material value’, the worship of. Artists began stripping away material, delivering the simplest form of an idea, to meek to make they hung ‘concepts’ like post-it notes, relying on the audience to do the work (hippy slackers).
In the West, there’ve been a few insurgencies into Expressionism, but largely stylistic, or nostalgic, or too idiosyncratic to bond a movement (Glasgow School of the 80s, Ken Kiff) – until now (it might seem). The lexicon of material, the material literacy of society has sped up with the momentum of RAM being crammed into a processor, flood through the monsoon saturation of advertising (I’d say ‘Media’, but most Media is now a form of advertising – what a pity that the Arts are now so buddy with Media, Art stops being art when it beds with Media – Art can and must abuse Media, as it does media). Now, in Emergency5, I see the begins, or buds, or iceberg’s tip of a NEW [something – insert defining label] Expressionism. What the artists in the show are expressing are personal accounts of a shattering society, disintegrating economies, the all-powerful minority, the struggling majority (struggling for satisfaction, basic rights, condition, reasons, against impotency). These are people, these artists, who wanting to make sense of being, of life, who can only explore and gesticulate with the stuff they feel literate in, material.
Now, quickly, bullet-pointing through the other artists – Empiricism (or Expressionism) and:
That’s all, folks. Please, don’t take this as meaningful, it’s running water, sometimes clear and refreshing, other times it’s piss.
Yep. I missed out Charlie Tweed, or Charlie Tweed missed out on me. Sorry. I’ve included an image of the video work that looks Film Noir-ish, let that be it – enough of this nonsense.
Again, I could’ve spilled these beans from the can of any angle of Art Theory – that’s always the issue, what makes most art writing unconvincing – what it does help with is prodding and poking an artwork for your own reaction – in a non-blog world, I’d return to fragments of this, fragments of other approaches, and construct some actuality of what I think and experience when looking at certain art –
Listing to WU LYF
It’s a shabby, overcast and spittle afternoon in Portsmouth. We’ve had slow traffic through the doors. A few bodies sit, shrugged over hot chocolates, sniffling, in the café. Gallery 1 is all stillness and video flicker and ‘where are you, Bill?’ (an empty question asked to an empty room). Today is one of those days that have no use of art. Perhaps they are too compelling, visually, to need an artist’s enhanced focus. Rainy, dreary streets are the stuff of emotive drama, a cipher for thoughtfulness, alienation and unrest. We are all lonely when it rains, staring out of rain-shattered windows. Artists are the professional lonely, they become expert in sustaining a dialogue with themselves (it is make-believe that they are ever talking to us, just because the eyes of an artwork follow us about doesn’t infer a conversation is being had). On such miserable days as this, we’re all artists, we don’t need other people’s art. Or do we?
My own reasons for engaging with other’s art are always in flux. I used to aspire to the sheer audacity of being I felt imbued the exhibited work of artists. That still occurs, but nowadays I’m essaying the means, mode, the weight and concerns of artwork more. I recall the grievous shock I had on discovering not all artists are socialist. Not all artists are nice, some aren’t even creative. I always look to be moved by artwork (a plastic expectation – if the work in and of itself doesn’t effect me, the sheer material of it might). So, what if I stumbled into aspex today – what might I make of Emergency 5?
Taking a joy in material is not artistic in itself. We all know what we like. While some go for the sheer-lines and gloss of sports cars, others collect the biscuit-brutality of Troika. There are certain people who like to get sweaty in PVC, because it alters them, it confers a pleasurable difference on them. The material of objects has be important to us, we’re experience-educated, we’re brought-up touchy-feelie. So, let’s visit the Emergency 5 exhibition on a tactile, surface quality, material jaunt – see what delights the ‘stuff’ of the artworks offer up.
Okay, just to be clear, I’m not saying ‘touch the art’ – please, don’t touch the art – eyes are amazing things, they can speak to your fingertips, they’ll tell you what it would be like to physically touch – artists draw on this common lexicon of learned textures to compose their work – so, TOUCH WITH YOUR EYES
Kit Craig’s The Bracketed Space is quite the bi-polar bear of material substance – the rasp grey concrete discs contrasting hard with the brilliant white egg-shell blank of the flat surfaces. Especially in the context of the gallery’s white rectangle, the painted planes suggest walls, walls mapping spaces, space like unfinished rooms. The materials refer to construction, to building, to architecture, to Modernist aesthetics, implying a reference to Brutalism (visit the Hayward Gallery for an understanding of the term). Simply put, they are the stuff of a modern apartment, of those boxy Grand Designs self-builds. They are materials that speak of clean, empty space. And that’s there in the work’s title –The Bracketed Space. Enclosing, surrounding space. It’s not domestic, it got none of the paint-bruising, furniture-ravished dustiness of an emptied bedroom – it’s an organisational space, a modern institutional space. Like any emptiness, it elaborates on arrangement, on composition. The introduction of the framed image into the piece draws the gallery wall into the composition, into playing the role of a wall in the ‘bracketed space’. I can reveal, there’s a precise relationship between the pencil ‘x’ in the image and one of the two low walls above the sphere (the adjunct form). Again, a material reference to modern gallery environments, white walls, concrete and frame.
There’s some conjuring with material expectation in The Bracketed Space, the concrete elements were cast from polystyrene, this makes them look light, a quality heightened by their hovering atop rods. These ‘mushroom’ forms remind me of the mildewy corner of a room I rented, weedy fungi started to grow from the muck-carpet – Kit’s are sterile fungi for Modernist corners (that’s just a trigger they’ve pulled inside my head, don’t go looking for this in the work – such thoughts are the bonus tracks).
Hania Stella-Sawicka’s Table of Practice is about construction too. The materials are planed wood, paint-coated metal, MDF, leather, plastic and avocado stones. The benches reference changing rooms: immaculate, unused changing rooms. With the ‘tool’-like elements about, the benches refer to IKEA, to a process of ‘putting together’ – the bespoke nature of the tool forms might represent the bits and bobs IKEA include, without which the furniture cannot be made. The leather of the pouches gives these MDF tools an air of authority, of fetishism. They might be the instruments of a highly-skilled professional, or the prized boy’s-toys of a DIY enthusiast. Then, like in Kit’s work, there’s the conjuring with materials: the precise, worked finish of the benches seems at odds with the MDF tools that it’s suggested made them. What is Hania saying about ‘practice’ – a word that’s been adopted by most in the art world as a means of professionalising artists (it avoids the need for ‘I do this, I do that’, it becomes ‘in my practice’)? Is there an answer to illicit from the curvy stacks and avocado stones? They say ‘vase’ to me, they’ve a candlestick form, a suggestion of a barley twist – they’re practical, it seems, they hold the avocado seeds in place to grow, they hold water. One holds a cream, an avocado cream, I think. The forms are a mechanism in the making of this cream, an engine perhaps. Looking carefully at Table of Practice, there’s sawdust and calibrating tools left underneath, suggesting adjustment or an unfinished state, or to signify the non-pristine nature of making – there’s a smear of something on one leg, it might’ve been applied on purpose (a tool is coated in the same goo) or it’s an accident, a missed issue, a clumsiness in the making amplified by the fine quality of the rest of it.
I’ll need to think about both works beyond the material, but I feel launched on the right ocean. I’m not suggesting the works are a conundrum to be resolved – looking and seeing don’t function in finites, they collaborate in making sense of things (sense isn’t a resolution – it’s at best an estimation or empirical guess). Sometimes, the work is all about the material.
Dan Coopey’s Untitled (Stutter) are material as medium. They are drawings. They’re always site specific, regardless of where they’re placed. There are three shaped mirrors to each arrangement. Each mirror has had its silvered backing erased, so the planes are both reflective and transparent. The planes are overlaid. They were ‘drawn’ into position by Dan, they are very precise drawings too. Mirrors always discuss ‘us’ – you – the Janus viewer, looking into and out of. Transparency is a monologue, it shows us what we could already see. Here, the material conjures – the actual gallery is multiplied, tilted askew, and denied. You might not appear in the reflection, though you’re stood facing the work – instead you have become a hanging rope of gloss black orbs, or a tv. Polished mirror, heck, polished glass is always futuristic, classic and cheap ( as in Disco cheap, tacky-exotic) – it’s nightclubs, skyscrapers and nightmares. It’s silver, it’s jewels. We can share in Dan’s delight, in his revery with the substance of glass, mirrored or not, or we just shrug and move on. It has an effect on you, or it doesn’t.
There will still be chains of thought that’ll run barefoot through your mind after seeing Dan’s work, all manner of contextual, incongruous and perverse thoughts will pop into your head. It is inevitable. Immediacy doesn’t mean slightness.
Blue Curry’s two works are immediate. They’re uncomplicated, I think. The tyres sequinned with aduki beans, they’re such tactile objects – DON”T TOUCH – they’re so satisfying. They might not require any greater sense than existing (the way jewellery, or ceramics, or designer stuff doesn’t) – but the tyres have been Africian-ised. Africa and tyres. South Africa and tyres. In the 80’s vigilante’s in South African townships, often in the name of the ANC, used ‘necklacing’ as a form of lynching. They’d place a tyre over the head and shoulders of the victim and set it alight. Gruesome. Consider Blue’s work again. There’s that conjuring, the distraction of the material disguising the darker narrative. I might be wrong (but I don’t care – if you ask the artist, they could or could try and explain away a work, only that’s negating their raison d’état – if you’re to enjoy Visual Art, you must always ask the artwork your questions.
Scott’s video submission to EMERGENCY5 ‘contemplates the failure of the image and of language.’
Scott aims ‘to develop work as a resistance to the ubiquity of collective memory in contemporary society through development of non-linear, multi-narrative languages.’
Kit’s submission to EMERGENCY5, The Bracketed Space, is made up of 3 components; two sculptural pieces, made of cast jesmonite with mdf, perspex, steel and wood, and a framed image.
‘Although recent work has become very much more sculptural, I see these structures essentially as extensions of the picture frame, viewing devices that attempt to articulate the process in which they were conceived, made and viewed. They describe this illogical logic; their forms derived from the need to hold the various components in their correct position.’
Amongst us aspex staff, this is now our favourite thing to say. Entitled Bill Burroughs Memorial Choir, Rob and Christine’s film uses ‘organic techniques of auditory disembodiment in search of the Burroughs voice.’
Rob and Christine have been working in collaboration for the past five years, exhibiting in Dublin, London, Paris and Nottingham. In this piece they focus on the spoken voice of the cult author William Burroughs, ‘which remains central to his posthumous persona, deliberately disembodied by audiotape ‘cut-ups’, loops, and overlays.’
The film has been made with the assistance of voice coach Christella Antoni, ‘whose daily medical practice is vocal gender-reallignment’ along with a number of volunteers who attempt to immitate Burroughs’ iconic voice, ‘in a mixture of seance, ventriloquism and Greek Chorus’.