eleutheria >In the Media | |||
May 31, 2004Hirst and Emin - after the fireThe 'ideas behind' the works that appeared in the Sensation exhibition appear to be banal, dreary and uninteresting. But the works of art themselves are interesting, exciting and inspiring. Especially in collections. If someone is doing something, there is no room for criticism of whether it is of value or not - we are not in a position accurately to judge (but have to behave as though we can judge, all the same). It's strange that artists give these second rate philosophical titles and meanings to their work. I would have thought that this is the work of the critics. In his book of interviews On the Way to Work Damian Hirst says "it's freedom, not genius" that is crucial for art. One good reason for this is that, as Neitzsche says, achievement can only be judged objectively (ie, not at all, but certainly not immediately, in the thick of things). So, even if someone is fucked up, and is doing things in a weird way that you think is banal, tedious or unsophisticated there is no excuse for then ganging up on them for what they do. They might be second rate, but at least they're perservering, and who knows what significance they will have in the future. At school, everyone valued "attainment" more than "effort" (we were always scored on both). If effort was low, and attainment high, this was brilliant as it showed how good you were. It is now clear to me that this is rubbish. This ideology, which seems so clever in childhood, leads people to take up persuits in an ironic, self-conscious way where achievement needs to be immediately apparent or laughably irrelevant. I did sort of resent Damian Hirst before reading On the Way to Work, in a similar way to the people writing on K-punk, but this book broke down my prejudice. But ok, if you have to read a book to find these things out, maybe Hirst is not a good artist? Maybe it's his life that is his art. But what's wrong with that? There can't be too much of that, can there? I have similar reservations about the Chapman Brothers too, whilst finding their art work exciting. For instance, their Goya defacements: shocking us more than the original Goya prints. The original Goya prints were meant to shock by showing us the face of war. What do the Chapman Brothers' shocking defacements show? I agree that the idea of riches and success must play a big part in the general popularity of the yba's. It's a shame that originality and preservation are what defines the art work - art being something to make money from, rather than an ongoing thing to do. The artists themselves can't be blamed for this. There are lots of ways of making money and having fame and success. These things are happy by-products of being an artist. Germaine Greer writes about this in relation to India, in Daddy, we hardly knew you: ...museums are for tourists, Papa, not for makers. Not for dwellers. They're for people passing though. Every Indian makes are every day. It's the process that is important not the product. The activity is the end in itself. Happiness is happening. Indian women make paintings with flowers every day. On special days they make patterns in the earth outside their houses with white line and when the guests come the pattern is distroyed by their feet. Living art is biodegradable. When the idols are not worshiped they are only brass or stone and then they are fit only to be collected by anal fixates. India does not struggle against time; time is the essence of the dance. The YBAs might produce TOO much excitement and euphoria; I remember Mark F warning me to beware of anything that made me feel filled with joy (I'd described to him how I felt about London). I wasn't sure why at the time, and still don't understand now. Maybe because it leads to terrible disappointment. No doubt I'm too prone to over-excitement. A real life example: when I watched the first episode of Big Brother 2004 the other day, i felt inspired and excited by the world - like I could be a part of it, there were masses of interesting people out there. Seeing them as they settled in I was dismayed. Kitten's behaviour was tedious, and their reaction to her was so, so, depressing and steriotypical in return. It suddenly seemed dreary and depressing - how quickly people started to form groups and be 2 faced (Victor and Darren made me particularly miserable, actually). It's quite clear how simple most people want their lives to be. And I got all excited for nothing. Now all I'm interested in is "what might happen", in a kind of soap opera type way, rather than just being interested in the people. I feel a miserable retreat back into my own world, and that it just isn't worth being excited into thinking there could ever be a sustained collaboration with anyone else (I mean, sustained interest in anyone else in particular). In this way, perhaps the exciting new world of Saatchi-bought-art artists is bound to lead to a miserable come down, just like every other exciting thing that breaks though? I think there is a difference; for me at least. After reading On the Way to Work, i decided to get a studio and have been very productive ever since. On the other hand, the excitement I at first got from Big Brother is a kind of excitment that you think is going to carry you away, it's an escape and I can't think of any good it might lead to. All the same, I did have a very weird dream about being on a big brother programme. The BB house was a mountain house with barriers about the outside, and was absolutely terrifying. I was going to walk out but i found out that I was in the last 2, so i decided to stay. The feelings i had - revolving around being locked up and on show 24 hours a day - were so intense that after that dream i had a deep respect for the people on Big Brother. But it's weird how no one seems to take it that seriously. When Nadia, the last person, was let out of her car, "she" looked very disorientated, and didn't know were to go (i respect that, that's the right reaction, isn't it?), and i overheard the BB helper person say, very roughly, "Walk". It's all entertainment to them (the tv people). After the first episode, when they were all let in the house, I truly thought it was going to be an incredible programme. One think I can grant the artists called YBAs is that they are doing something, building something, living like artists as honestly as possible. They're doing what they like - if they are taking the piss, so what if you are made a fool of. If they are shit, oh well. Paul McCarthy is the obvious exception!
January 28, 2004Dizzy Rahs-kallWhat a wicked day that was in London, when I saw Dizzee Rascal perform live on the thames in support of David Blaine's big come down. Talking of which, I must see the David Blaine documentary to see if you can hear Dizzee Rascal singing in the background. I was too tired to stay up for them at Christmas. The day before was good too, we went to a fantastic exhibition at the Marlborough Gallery - Paula Rego. Then to Sketch to watch a film, saw the egg shaped toilet cubicles. The film was projected onto 4 walls, 3 times in a row & there were leather chairs in a square in the middle. I had brought some acrylic paints with me and painted a view from Stephen's flat. It tured out quite eerie. we: ->went to the White Cube in Hoxton & got our on the way to work books signed by Damian Hurst (one for Stephen). The exhibition itself wasn't that impressive. Upstairs, there were these many fly pictures made of "flys on canvas" - They Stank & I almost retched. It was quite exciting, & scary. Rather embarrassing as we are bad at meeting people at the best of times. I told him I liked his book very much and then was really embarrassed. He looked at me like I was a mentaller when he said goodbye. (~Damien drew a picture of a skull and cross bones on my book.) After Love is the Devil, we decided we might as well go to David Blaine's finale. We saw his box being lowered. There was this loud mustic at 9.30 -10 & we didn't know who was playing it - at first I though it was the theme tune to David Blaine's come down (american stadium style) but you could hardly him speaking. It turned out it was on a boat, & it was Dizzee Rascal doing a live concert from his boat. You could see him on deck with these huge speakers. The police boats chased him around & around Tower Bridge. The music echoed very nicely under the bridge. They didn't let David Blaine out till 9.40 (because Dizzee Rascal upstaged him?) and there was dust flying everywhere as it had been incredibly dry summer. Afterwards, most people left, and just a few of us stayed watching Dizzee Rascal & the police chase. People were saying, "is it dizzee?" "it's dizzee" because he was singing "Dizzy Rahs-kall!....Dizzy Rahs-kall". I told my brother about this, and he gave me a cd of Dizzee for christmas. I liked look sharp at the time, and liked the David Blaine song he performed from his boat, but not so keen on the album. The above typed out from my diary of the time, inspired by reading Undercurrent's Dizzee Rascal : Cold Beat Platter ps, a strange thing happened in the Tate Modern when we went a few days before this. We were going round the exhibition and there were loads of school children sketching the exhibits. In the small Paul McCarthy room/corridor were a series of sketches, featuring a man punching himself in the face with one boxing-gloved hand whilst masturbating with the other (the preliminary sketches or story board stills for his film showing on a small television screen in the same room. Oh yeah, in the film, the man was covered in blood). Three children from a school party sat facing these sketches, each had selected one to copy. A girl was drawing the most explicit of the bunch. I looked at her picture - she'd drawn his erect penis, with boxing gloved-hand on it, and was just putting in the boxing gloved-hand punching head. What the f++k are her parents going to say when they see that drawing?
|