What you like is to look

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)

Five sentences concerning ghosts

Both pictures by Ujin Lee, from the Dust series.

There is never enough time or effort or vision to make sure things are fixed.

We must suppose they are (or were) somewhere here, in the vicinity of the place we are (or were) standing, in the present continuous, within the limits of what we are ready to appreciate.

I can hardly imagine a memory that has no stills.

The trick is in admiring the thing the trick tricks you into believing, while knowing the trick.

Ghosts : the need for accompanied presence.

(via)

Alevtina Kakhidze - Revolutionary Obedience

"Art must concern itself with the real, but it throws any notion of the real into question. It always turns the real into a facade, a representation, and a construction. But it also raises questions about the motives of that construction." - Mike Kelley

Here is how it went:
Ukrainian artist Alevtina Kakhidze has been working on value and power for a while. In one of her charming projects (The Most Commercial Project), for instance, she drew objects that she liked, most of them she couldn't afford, and gave the drawings the same value that the objects had. So, a drawing of a Louis Vuitton handbag had the same value as the object itself. And when she brought her goods into her marriage, the lawyers confirmed that her estate was worth much more than her entrepreneur husband's.
In one of her projects, back in 2008, Alevtina drew the earth seen from the sky. No, this needs more precision: the earth seen from an airplane which is not her own private airplane.
Once she made the drawing, Alevtina Kakhidze wrote to some of the richest people in Ukraine - Rinat Akhmetov and Viktor Pinchuk (who has his own adventure in the art world now) - and asked them to make a drawing for her of how the earth looks from a private plane. It was a nice portfolio she sent them, very professional and smooth. She tried encouraging them, telling them it wasn't about drawing well. If anyone can draw, so can you!
This (and the obvious silence afterwards) made for a nice work. A clean statement about what we see and the position we see it from.

But two years later, unexpectedly, an answer arrives. Akhmetov decided to make his huge foundation to support artists' projects. And Alevtina's project was thought perfect for a beginning. Unfortunately, Mr. Achmetov is too busy/shy/untalented to make a drawing, but he will be happy to rent a private plane for Ms. Kakhidze, so she can make her project herself.
And make it she did.
The project, called "I'm Late For A Plane That Cannot Be Missed", started with Alevtina going by collective transport from her house in the suburbs to the airport. She hitch-hiked a little, took a suburban mini-bus, a suburban train, and (as expected) arrived late at the small private airport near Kiev. There was already a TV crew traveling with her by then, asking everyone on the way who they were and if they knew Alevtina. At the airport, there were several more crews, and over a dozen news photographers. After all, this was an important day for art and culture in Ukraine: the richest man around decided to support real artists, and started by allowing this innocent-looking girl to realize her dream.

And off she went. Onboard, she took only a few reporters. (There was even a struggle for the seat.)

The anxious journalists were mad when, upon returning, Alevtina declared only one thing: she will tell the whole story and answer all the questions tomorrow during her lecture performance. That made no news story at all! Disappointed and frustrated, they could do nothing but wait.

However, the next day arrived quite quickly. And here they were, the journalists, and tens of artists gathered at the conference in one of the most prestigious places in Ukraine (a part of the Saint Sophia Cathedral complex). Waiting mainly to learn how to get money for their projects. And, also, to hear what Alevtina has to say. And to see the drawings.
Alevtina starts describing how she prepared for the trip, how she got clothes specially designed for the occasion, she talks about the cost of the plane rental (10 000 euros). And then she declares:

I felt so calm on the way to the airport and in the sky but now I have to account for this tranquility. What have we done on the plane? We were there. There is no result. I have nothing to show for what actually happened there.

The journalists were confused. This is surely a scandal? No drawing!
But also - no demolition! No shocking performance! No reaction! Nothing! Alevtina did strictly nothing - she did not change the game, she did not make the plane fly somewhere else, she did not paint it red, she made no drawing. She took the flight.
Did I say she didn't change the game?
Of course she did.
Her non-action was performative. It created a new reality. It brought about a challenge to the system, keeping up the power struggle between the art and the money. Who is the boss here? And why?
Certainly, they want us to do what we want. But if we do what we want our way, we are the ones defining what they want. And for a fraction, it becomes our game. And this fraction, for me, is the work.

In one of her works, Alevtina writes (or quotes, the origin is unsure): “And do you remember, I found 10 roubles, and ran home to show mom. Not the 10 roubles, but how lucky I am.”
It is not the thing we find. It is about how lucky we are.
And how we subvert this luck.


PS. The struggle continues: in the description of the event on the Foundation's site, the actual request for Akhmetov to draw the earth is not mentioned, making it all seem slightly more like making "Dreams come true in art". What dreams, exactly?

Take a break

Remember Zimoun?

Zimoun : 186 prepared dc-motors, cardboard boxes 60x60x60cm, 2010. from ZIMOUN VIDEO ARCHIVE on Vimeo.

Reverse

At the BWA City Gallery in Bydgoszcz (which has the most poignant introduction of any art gallery I've seen so far: "WHAT"), the Polygonum exhibition which opens on October 14th to showcase the Polish region's visual talents has some tasty discoveries.

"Movemental" by Tomasz Dobiszewski does look a little like a furniture catalogue. And yet there is something wrong with this catalogue. It does not clarify, it does not simplify, but multiplies, undoes the tight order of things. It lets the picture breathe, opens it up, as if it was obvious: the reverse is necessary, the negative, the outline - everything our gaze seems to take for granted. Dobiszewski adds nothing, he just cuts out and moves,allowing the rhythms to become juicier through the absurd joy of things fitting like in a reverse puzzle. Do things become undone, this way, or are they put more clearly into their necessity? After all, this is the space for the space this is.


Another tasty moment requires distance.
Evidently, it's not about the painting. But the painting seems an important introduction (and the floor, and the floor). This creature, to the right (unfortunately I didn't write down the name or author), stands as its own double. It should not be approached (really, definitely, in cases like this I understand why beauty needs distance). As any mirage, it is only what it seems, a reflection, a game of angles, a line and a line and a line. It rings a bell, and another, and I wonder, is there a way of keeping it there, of not getting closer, of remaining within the illusion that there is something beyond, just a little more plenty.

Blocked Keys

The etude by Gyorgy Ligeti I would like you to pay attention to is the second one. It starts at 2'15".
Here is what a competent source has to say about the work:

The third etude, "Touches bloquees" ("Blocked Keys"), uses the same technique that first appeared in "Selbstportrait," the second of the Three Pieces for Two Pianos. Certain keys are held down silently with one hand while the other hand plays a very fast chromatic line on and around the blocked keys, which of course do not sound. The result is a complicated rhythmic pattern that gives the music a somewhat mechanical quality. At first the silent gaps are all the duration of a single eighth, but eventually the gaps are two eighths, then three, and continue to increase in length until the texture becomes increasingly sparse. Again, this etude is about the creation of illusion; we see a continuous pattern of eighth notes on the page, but what results in performance are quirky rhythmic patterns that are not discernible to the eye and would be all but impossible to notate in a more traditional fashion to achieve the desired effect.

Actually, it wasn't so much about the listening for me. What put me in a state of awe was the seeing. It is the clear struggle between the hands, the tension between the immobile one and the one that runs crazily above it or under it. Also, the tension of the one that is supposed to stay immobile, simply blocking some keys, but cannot resist the opportunity and spurts out sounds now and again, as if to underline it has total power. And then they switch. And we hear it, we hear this body negiation, we hear it once we see it, once we understand the game, it becomes obvious.
The music becomes obvious. Because it's about music, right?
And the soldier-fingers, constantly attempting to design the space through movement. A movement whose purpose is not something else - like a sound - is a dance. If you ever needed proof, here is one.

Cattelan's Finger

Yet again, Maurizio Cattelan achieved his admitted goal: he is on the covers of magazines.
The finger, called L.O.V.E.*, has been erected in front of the Milan stock exchange for the duration of the Fashion Week happening in the city.
Everyone is happy: Cattelan gets his attention, the public is proud of such a daring representative, the city gets its Fashion Week (kind of) publicized, and the brokers... well, the brokers have a good laugh and continue their business as usual.
That is not to say the work is not good. It is poignant. The finger that is sticking is the only one remaining on the hand. The others seem to have been severed. So is this hand telling the bankers to go fuck themselves, or is that the only thing it can say? Or maybe it's that when you have next to nothing, the middle finger is the one to resist longest.
Oh, but of course, it's made of marble and put on a pedestal.

But that, really, is not the work at work here. The work is to have been able to put it in front of the Stock Exchange. To have shown them the finger and have them accept it. This is what makes a real contemporary trickster - not the sculpture, but the context.
"We want to be confirmed as the capital of contemporary art", the city's administrators officially stated, "and we have to not only mediate but also accept what we do not like".
Which is a hilarious comment, and only confirms Cattelan's intelligence. One wonders how he did it. Maybe what he said was, let's cut the crap, it is a criticism, but it will attract more tourists than you can ever imagine, and will not hurt you in any way whatsoever, because no one is going to take their money out of the stocks after seeing my work. On the contrary, the tourists will leave their money in Milan.
But the controversy remains. “It is unacceptable that the City sticks its finger up to the Stock Exchange" – said the councillor for Town Planning Carlo Masseroli in a fervent discussion.
Masseroli says: "the administration cannot be culturally subordinate to a self-styled artist like Cattelan who wants to use Milan to earn money”.
Oh, that's right, Cattelan made money off this! I wonder who payed him.
So the question is, who is Cattelan showing the finger to?
I'm not sure, but the pictures suggest that the finger is in front of the stock exchange. And is not pointing towards it, but from it.

Which could end this text. But will not. Because even if Cattelan laughs in our face, even if he plays a trick on all of us, he still plays out the crucial role of catalyzer - he materializes the tensions that are already there. He makes us go "Hey! Wait a minute!" He sticks the finger where it hurts.

*The title was originally supposed to be "Omnia munda mundis" ("To the pure ones everything is pure").