Final days: Man of the Year

Exhibition: Man of the Year: Henry Coombes and Carles Congost
On through 26, 2013 at the Centre for Contemporary Art, Glasgow

Still from Carles Congost, Paradigm, film, 2012 // via //

Clip from Carles Congost, Paradigm, 2012

One art exhibition that took me by surprise was one that I mentioned a few weeks ago when I took an afternoon gallery-hop visit to Glasgow, and one of our stops was the CCA. I mentioned then, and I'll say it again, that I've always been a little on the fence about the moving image when it comes to art exhibitions. I've been to countless museums and galleries, and almost always stop into the inevitable darkened room that sits on one end of the exhibition space. It's hard to resist seeing the source of the strange noises that echo through the galleries.

I think the moving image, film art, video art--whatever you want to call it--is an art form I've simply had a hard time wrapping my head around. I've only begun to seriously look at it. Call it personal preference, or lack of understanding. I might as well just be honest about that rather gaping void in my understanding of art and its history. But on the other hand, perhaps I just haven't seen things that 'spoke' to me. Perhaps I walked into too many gallery screening rooms at the wrong time, didn't stick around long enough, and left feeling more and more confused and disinterested. Like any other kind of art, film art can vary dramatically in style, length, presentation size, theme, etc. Sound becomes an essential element, and notable when there is none.

Anyway. I could go on forever about how art films have suddenly captivated me in a way I hardly know how to express, and strangely it is because of two films by two artists that I saw nearly two months ago at the same time. I saw both films twice, in quick succession, and perhaps, just maybe, this is why I have considered them so much since. It's unusual for me to continue coming back to artwork of any kind, trying to piece it apart and back together, to interpret it, to comprehend it in some way. (Unless I have to. I know this sounds weird, since that's what all this art history business is about, but that's that.) But, flipping over to movies, or a book, where there's a narrative and a moving image (if only in my own imagination), there are certain films and scenes from films that stick with me for some reason. I roll them over in my mind, sometimes disliking them at first and then finding that they challenge me in some unforeseen way, and after some time I come to really appreciate them. I think the same may go for film art. I need to really spend some time with it in order to learn how to appreciate it.

Above is a short clip from Paradigm. The other film in this exhibition, screened in the same room, on the same scale, and alternating back and forth with Paradigm, was Henry Coombes' Two Discs and a Zed. This is the one that initially weirded me out a little bit, with scenes of the Highlands and Coombes himself dressed as a Pictish man in a cave, chanting and then shown being wrapped in plaster and turned on a spit, interspersed with rather romantic scenes of a wolf running around the National Galleries of Scotland, picking meat off a heavily draped table. But it was also the one I wanted to see a second time in order to try to pick it apart myself. I've had a still photograph from a scene of the wolf, which was printed in the exhibition program, hanging in my room and I am still entranced by some of the imagery in this work. It doesn't seem that Two Discs and a Zed is available to view on his site as yet, but his other films and work are available there.

Image of wolf from Henry Coombes, Two Discs and a Zed, film. // via //

Paradigm has a highly produced soundtrack, and the figures in the film move in slow motion, sometimes singing along with the lyrics. At first I thought the highly-produced, strange music video-like quality of it was cheesy, but then on a second viewing it gave me pause to reconsider. One of the other students I was with referred to it seeming 'forced.' The concept of 'forced artwork' sort of jarred my brain. I started to wonder what it meant for an artist to 'force' work, or for a work to appear as such. Does the quality 'forced' even exist in art? And how? Is it a personal, subjective interpretation? I almost thought the same thing, if by 'forced' she meant 'highly produced.' Not what I think of when I think of video art -- grainy videos (think Andy Warhol or Fluxus). I wonder if the student hadn't criticized it that way, whatever her reason, I might not have thought so hard about it myself.

After a few weeks, I wish I could both again. I wanted to share these two videos again and offer some of my own thoughts on film art, using these two, or the Man of the Year exhibition, as something akin to a case study in my ever-evolving and growing understanding of art, especially of the contemporary kind.

Cheers!
Kate xx

I Give Everything Away

The other day I hopped down the hill to one of the best contemporary galleries in Edinburgh, The Fruitmarket Gallery, where they just opened a new exhibition of Louise Bourgeois works to complement a major exhibition at the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art. I'm actually not sure I've ever seen any of her work in person before this, so I'm excited to get to the Gallery of Modern Art as well. The exhibition is titled I Give Everything Away, after a suite of large drawings by the same title on display. The Fruitmarket exhibition goes through February 23rd, 2014.

The Fruitmarket Gallery exhibition presents Bourgeois's Insomnia Drawings, 220 drawings made in that blurry phase between sleeping and waking. She used sheets of paper that she had on hand, including sheets lined for music and lined notebook paper, and did combinations of writing and drawing that are at times very personal. The clustered line of drawings wends throughout the rooms of the ground floor, roughly in chronological order, starting in November 1994 and ending in June 1995.

On the second floor (first floor if we're in the UK; this gets confusing) there are larger works on paper made at the end of her life, in 2010. They are a mix of hand-colored etching, writing, and drawing which were, to me, a bit more evocative than the snake-like procession of Insomnia Drawings downstairs.

It's a really wonderful exhibition in a fantastic space. I like very much how the first floor is almost overwhelming, "labyrinthine" as the info pamphlet says, in the sheer number of pieces and how tightly they're displayed. The other part of the space is much more open; the works on display and the two different exhibition spaces really complement each other that way.



The Fruitmarket Gallery has also published a catalogue to accompany the exhibition, titled Has the day invaded the night or the night invaded the day? Insomnia in the work of Louise Bourgeois. They have copies sitting around on benches throughout the gallery and it's a really beautiful little book with many of the Insomnia Drawings shown both sides, where in the gallery they are obviously only able to display one side of a sheet of paper.



Cheers!
Kate x

Mostly West @ Inverleith House

Let me just say this first:

THIS SHOW IS ONLY ON FOR ONE MORE DAY.

Just so you know, in case, you know... you happen to be in Edinburgh, and happen to have a free Sunday, and happen to love contemporary art. Just a fair warning.



As part of a group, I trekked down to (and around) the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh this morning, but split off walked around on my own well into the afternoon. I have to admit that it really (re)awakened the sense of wonder that accompanies being in a new place. After only two weeks in this city, it feels as though I still know absolutely nothing about it and like I've been here for months already. It was like a retreat of sorts to take the bus to the botanic garden, hang out for a warm cappuccino, and check out the Inverleith House gallery's last days of Mostly West: Franz West and Artist Collaborations.

It was an awesome show. I admit that I'm kind of predisposed to love contemporary art shows because I don't study contemporary art. I also stick by the rationale that if I studied it, I would fail to, in my ignorance, be just plain pleased by it. It makes me smile. Or smirk, more often than not, because I keep thinking, "That's weird." Or "What the @#$%?" But occasionally I think, "Holy crap, that's amazing."

That's what I thought about Essenz, in collaboration with Heimo Zobernig, 1989/99.




Inverleith Houses's layout of small gallery rooms over three levels provided a really wonderful flow and arrangement of the work. As the title of the exhibition suggests, Franz West was involved in some capacity with the work, but the pieces were collaborations in various media, completed over the course of several decades. Work was loosely organized by collaboration, and related works together, but other rooms were more sparse. West himself was Austrian, born in Vienna in 1947 and working until his death in 2012. He was awarded the Golden Lion Award for Lifetime Achievement at the 54th Venice Biennale.

 

Above: Joe Says, Anton Herzl, 2007.



As the incredibly friendly and helpful woman at the reception desk told me, many of the pieces were interactive, and according to the exhibition guide, "West saw art as participatory." So unsurprisingly there were switches and seats and boxes that challenge the barrier between viewer and artwork, making the viewer more of a participant than a passive passer-by. (Above: Hangover in collaboration with Anselm Reyle, 2011; Below, L-R: Girl's Imagination, 2011, and Nairobi Haute 5, 2012, both also in collaboration with Anselm Reyle).




I always love a good guestbook:



I fell in love with this stately little house. Of course, not really very little all. Just plain lovely. I was inspired to sit for forty-five minutes or so and sketch this view of it before the clouds started to look a little too threatening to sit outside. But before I left, I made sure to catch this outdoor Franz West installation, Bateau Imaginaire, Franz West and Heimo Zobernig, 2004.



I have so many more photos of the Botanic Gardens proper that I'm excited to show you, so look out for another RBGE post soon!

Cheers,
Kate x

A painter is a kind of poet

I've been wanting to do this post for some time because I find this artist and his work pretty exciting. The artist would be Tobias Keene, and the work would be monumental! Generations, on display through July 21, 2013, is something a little bit different for this area. It's an exploration into the work of three generations of English artists, Arthur Keene, Sr., Arthur Keene, Jr., and Tobias Keene. Tobias's work is generally more exciting and appealing to me personally, but seeing all three generations' work up in one place makes for a really interesting exhibition.

The show is at The Trout Museum of Art in Appleton, WI, a small museum established in 2010 from what was previously the Appleton Art Center. It is now housed under the umbrella of The Fox Cities Building for the Arts, consisting mainly of the museum, but also now an official home and gathering places for other arts organizations in the area. 

Tobias Keene's work is what I want to focus on, largely because it's much different than what one typically finds in this part of Wisconsin. And that's because he's not from Wisconsin! Well, I never. ;)

Tobias Keene is currently based in Los Angeles, where he has lived and worked for several years. It might be an understatement to say that his work marks a departure from that of his father and grandfather. Tobias's work has an immediacy about it, a sort of run-stop quality, exemplified by the bright colors, thick textures, and juxtaposition of still-standing figures in environments that are innocently empty, abstracted, and sometimes harsh. He clearly recalls painter Francis Bacon in works such as The Orange Pope (below, top of frame), and in his use of diptych and triptych compositions.

The reason I like these works so much comes down to three things: color, scale, and expressions. The colors, for one, are vivid and explosive, and they draw you in immediately. The scale approaches architectonic, with canvases such as Black is the Beauty of the Brightest Day (Winged Victory) that span entire lengths of wall and reach from floor to ceiling. Some of the paintings clearly indicate some sort of open room, such as in The Girl in the Golden Chair #4, or Standing Red Man (not pictured). And lastly, the expressions on the faces of the subjects are just wonderful: to look into the eyes of the slouching girl in the golden chair, or the small, solemn face of the Forgotten Saint, we are drawn into their worlds, wherever they may be, past the bright colors and uneasy terrain or space they find themselves in -- we're drawn to their humanity. Even The Queen with Umbrella has a thousand words written upon her face.

And not only do you have Tobias Keene's large-scale pieces hanging around the gallery, but you get to see them in the context of his previous generations' work. His father and grandfather both subscribed to a method best described as academic--more interested in the studies of figure and movement with numerous sketches to back up that pursuit. Tobias claims he's mostly interested in painting on canvas, frankly skipping the academic drawing aspect, and it's clear that he takes a more visceral approach to his paintings. Therein lies the immediate strength, which comes through in the thickness of the paint and the expressions on his subjects' faces, or the positions of their bodies.

A few walls of the gallery are focused exclusively on Arthur Keene Jr. and Sr., and their more academic sketches and drawings. Also featured are numerous sketchbooks that visitors can page through with cotton gloves.

I strongly urge everyone interested in contemporary art, as well as drawing, to check out this show. Information on museum opening hours can be found at troutmuseum.org. Tobias has shown in numerous solo and group shows in New York and Los Angeles, including "Fresh" at MOCA Los Angeles and Earl McGrath Gallery. For more information on his exhibition history and other cool items of note, please check out Tobias Keene's website at tobiaskeene.com, where you can also find lovely images of his work.

All images taken by me; all original work by Tobias Keene, Arthur Keene, Jr. and Arthur Keene, Sr.