Ethos sent us some great shots while out in Sydney, Australia for his solo show at 19 Karen Gallery. We love his characters!
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Ethos sent us some great shots while out in Sydney, Australia for his solo show at 19 Karen Gallery. We love his characters!
Bilder der Berührung (Images of Contingence) at the gallery Zak Branicka in Berlin presents works by Valie Export that deal with expressions of physical contact and its implications. The title of the show is derived from Valie Export’s installation work Fragmente der Bilder einer Berührung (Fragments of Images of Contingence) of 1994, in which light bulbs are rhythmically immersed into cylinders filled with milk, used oil, or water. This major work of the exhibition is complemented by video works and drawings, and various photographs and archive material that documents Valie Exports long-standing artistic career. In this video, Asia Zak walks us through the exhibition. The show runs until June 15, 2013.
Valie Export: Images of Contingence (Bilder der Berührung) / Zak Branicka, Berlin. Interview with Asia Zak. April 28, 2013. Video by Frantisek Zachoval.
PS: Watch also:
Excerpt from the press release:
?AK | BRANICKA is delighted to present Bilder der Berührung [Images of Contingence], an exhibition of works by VALIE EXPORT to be shown during the Gallery Weekend Berlin 2013. The exhibition highlights the artist?s groundbreaking expressions of physical contact and its implications in various media, including installation, drawing, photography, film and archival materials. The title of the exhibition is rooted in VALIE EXPORT?s installation work Fragmente der Bilder einer Berührung [Fragments of Images of Contingence] of 1994, in which pole- and wire-hung light bulbs are rhythmically immersed into cylinders filled with milk, used oil, or water. These liquids are fundamental sources of our existence. At the same time, their physical fusion with electricity implies a life-threatening danger?a contradictory, yet also mutually conditioned state of joining and repelling. The rhythmic movement in this work is repeated in a second installation of the exhibition, Die un-endliche/-ähnliche Melodie der Stränge [The un-ending/-ique melody of cords] of 1998, a recording of a threadless sewing machine and its sound.
Contingency, liminality, and sensual experience likewise permeate the artist?s video works as themes, a selection of which will also be shown, including one of her most famous works, TAPP- und TASTKINO [TOUCH CINEMA] (the Munich performance of 1969). During this performance, the artist wore an aluminium box around her naked chest, allowing passersby to enter her miniature cinema as visitors with their hands. ?To see the film, that is, in this case, to touch and feel it, the viewer (user) has to guide his hands through the entrance into the screening hall. With this, the curtain, previously only raised for the eyes, is now finally raised for both hands. The tactile reception takes a stand against the deception of voyeurism. For, as long as the citizen satisfies himself with the reproduced copy of sexual freedom, the state remains spared from the sexual revolution?, EXPORT states. In its confrontation and appropriation of the male gaze, this iconic performance has become a symbol of feminist art.
The motif of touch reappears in VALIE EXPORT?s series of drawings dating from the beginning of the 1970s. Depicting hands that protect or caress, hands that suffer, and hands that create suffering, these works, as all others, configure an iconographic index of the human body, and particularly a woman?s body; the individual parts of which inscribe and are inscribed with meaning. Its capacity for ?touch? is most telling: It is testimony not only to sensuality, intimacy, and carnality, but also to aggression and violence. As EXPORT says: ?For me, contingence is how and where you perceive borders, and how and where and when borders explode.?
Aside from the aforementioned works, various photographs and display cases showing archive material and documentation from EXPORT?s long-standing artistic career (specifically compiled for the exhibition VALIE EXPORT ? Archive at the Kunsthaus Bregenz in 2011) will complement the exhibition.
DAY AFTER UPDATE: Whoa, well, then. The Hirshhorn board split and Koshalek announced his resignation by year-end. What a way to go.
While designer Liz Diller made her politico-architectural case for The Hirshhorn Bubble in her 2012 TED talk, the Museum's own justification for the project has been unclear and uncompelling.
Explanations center on making the Hirshhorn "an agent for cultural diplomacy." In February director Richard Koshalek told Kriston Capps, "This institution should be the leader in terms of setting arts and cultural dialogue. Cultural policy is set in Washington, D.C." This is debatable enough, as both mission and content.
The programming that's always discussed, though, a "Center for Creative Dialogue," involves conferences and discussions created by the Council on Foreign Relations and outside staff, not the Hirshhorn itself, or even the Smithsonian. Critics of the Bubble vision like Tyler Green note this disconnect, and that the Museum doesn't need a bubble to host such policy-flavored forums and events; they could do it right now, in the existing auditorium. And in fact, they did just that last Fall, where a capacity crowd watched TV journalist Judy Woodruff moderate a panel on "Art and Social Change" during to the Ai Weiwei exhibition.
No, The Bubble is a thing apart, apparently, from the programming that would inhabit it. Its absurdist form on this symbolic site, and the transgressive gesture towards Gordon Bunshaft's concrete donut, are meant to be self-justifying. Capps calls it "a public art stunt," and the Washington Post suggests it could "break DC from stagnation." It's starchitecture as spectacle and a catalyst for attention and, eventually, one hopes, the holy grail of Washington existence: relevance.
Meanwhile, it's amazing that until Capps' reconsideration of the project last winter in the City Paper, there was no mention of what would be, for lack of a better term, the business model: The Bubble would be a for-hire event space.
Koshalek swears the Inflatable will engage the Hirshhorn's curators, too. When the Bubble is inflated, part of its programming will correspond with whatever's lining the gallery walls of the museum. The rest of the timeshare will go to whichever universities, think tanks, and corporations rent it out--a money-making proposition for the Hirshhorn which could lead to exclusive uses not quite in keeping with Diller's civic scheme. (And certainly not with the museum's artistic mission.)
Still frame from Conan O'Brien Finger Wave (reaction GIF).
I asked Jake to mimic a bunch of reaction gifs I found online. This one turned out the best. I like functional gifs that can be injected into conversations and gossip blog comment sections. This is a gesture you can copy+paste into interactions that require sass. You can forget about this gif's brief foray into art territory. No glitch. No new media.
I've often asked Jake to be in my work because he is a tragic beauty. I've never met him IRL. I like sending people directions and seeing how they execute them. It's never what I think it will be, which is the reason to do it. I don't want to have control over images. I want to have transatlantic sporadic virtual working relationships.
He looks focused and slightly concerned. His accessories are sassy but he doesn't exude sass. The gesture is not backed up by the corresponding emotion. There is a distance between who you are and who you want to be. The GIF exists in the space between those things.
Click here to view work.
Join Cinema Project at the Experimental Film Festival Portland for their curated program of 16mm surreal cartoons. From Sally Cruikshank's Quasi at the Quakadero whose main character Anita has been described as "Betty Boop with a New Wave wardrobe," to Amy Lockhart's Walk for Walk with its bubbling nursery of tear drops and googly-eyed hamburgers. Cinema Project is excited to present Weird Worlds as part of the 2nd annual Experimental Film Festival Portland. Click to buy tickets.
In the Bathroom with Barry, An Introduction
The walls of the hall that I stood in were white.
The ceiling was white, and the floor was white.
The Christmas lights strung along the hall and the sink at the end were white.
On the sink was a white candle inside of a red jar in front of a mirror.
I was waiting by the sink for the bathroom.
I was first in line and under the impression that the door with the lightcoming from underneath was the bathroom.
That the door with no light coming from underneath was the closet.
The man who was soon to be second in line tested the door with the light and found it to be locked.
He declared that it must be a closet.
I posited that the light suggested an occupant locked in the bathroom.
He tested the door with no light and found it locked.
We had reached a stalemate.
That is until we heard the flush of a toilet and the lock clack.
I offered to let the other man go first and he locked the door behind him.
Two more joined the line and the man in the bathroom opened the door.
"Would you like to come in? There's two in here."
I stepped past the other man and the urinal, past the small wall to the bowl next to the window in a white room.
He locks the door, and we both begin our independent study of the porcelain forms before us.
"Hello, I'm Barry."
"Are you an artist?"
I had been thinking, lately, about the need to work on my elevator speech.
The one where in a couple of sentences I neatly encapsulate a description of my work that is both accurate and, with any luck, interesting.
Here was a captive audience, but all I could say was that, "I am a painter, are you an artist."
"No, I am a writer. What kind of painter?"
Another chance and it was a good question.I have been trying to figure this out for myself.
At the best of times I am sitting at home with books and tea considering the ideas of other artists.
Provisional, Casual Abstraction, these are the shorthand signifiers that reduce my approach within critical discourse.
I wanted to say that I was an "abstract genre painter."
But this felt clunky and like it needed explaining.
It also made me think about how the term "genre painting" was considered demeaning when it was first used. So why not Casual Abstraction?
All this while pondering the appropriate duration for a conversation that involves two men holding their penises, divided by a wall.
"Small/abstract. What kind of writing do you do?"
"Non-Fiction. Where did you go to school?"
"What about you?"
There was a pause, I imagine, as we both attempted to determine,from either side of our wall, whether the other was done.
The door rattled and I anticipated the faces of those in line as the lock turned and the door opened in.
Justyn Hegreberg creates small paintings as quiet disruptions, breaks in the noise of life and daily thought. They allow space for one to pause and step outside one's self, to follow the material trajectory of another person.
In a special exhibition at Vigor Industrial on Swan Island the MFA in Visual Studies proudly graduates 15 students and presents their thesis work, the culmination of two years of multi-disciplinary and mentor-based study. PNCA's Master of Fine Arts in Visual Studies encourages cross disciplinary studies, allowing students to work within a singular discipline or to pursue a combined practice that bridges disciplines and media.
The exhibition will feature work by Christina Bailey, Terri Bradley, Erin Dengerink, Kiel Fletcher, Linden How, Timothy Janchar, John Knight, Matthew Leavitt, Daniel Long, Andrew Lorish, Cristin Norine, Justin Schwab, Edward Trover, Lindsay Williams, Takahiro Yamamoto.
MFA Visual Studies Thesis Exhibition | PNCA
Opening Reception | May 24th | 6-9 PM
May 25th | 12-5 PM | June 3rd - June 9th | 12-5 PM
Vigor Industrial | Building 10. 5555 N Channel Ave. Portland, Oregon, 97217
Alya Albert, 19, is an alumnus of our In the Making teen arts program and a second-year Cross-Museum Collective member. On Sunday May 19, she and the other CMC teens, under the guidance of artist Ryan McNamara, created a series of in-gallery performances and provocations at MoMA PS1. In the following post, Alya describes the feelings and fears she experienced getting ready for her big performance art debut. ?Calder Zwicky, Associate Educator of Teen and Community Programs
I?ve been doing this for over two years now and I have never in my time as a MoMA Teen been as panic-stricken as I was this past Sunday. We were 12 kids crowded around in a pre-performance huddle in our “green room” at MoMA PS1: our teachers Mark Epstein and Matthew Evans giving us a pep talk, artist Ryan McNamara holding our hands, and for the first time ever at MoMA I thought, there?s no way I can do this. And then it was go time.
The first time I met performance artist Ryan McNamara he asked if we were all artists. We gave the signature shrug and mumble that can be found in any teen art class. ?Kind of.? ?I want to be.? ?Not really.? The next time we met with him we presented our original ideas for our debut at PS1. We had each created an intervention plan to be performed in the museum. Our goal was to intervene with a visitor?s experience, using our own bodies and minimal props. So of course Otis decided to serve homemade sausages on a silver platter in the bathroom, obviously Julia knew she would shave her legs in a bathing suit on the entry steps, and John was clearly going to realize his dream of a urinal-side Britney Spears sing-along.
This should not be taken lightly. Just the chance to perform at MoMA PS1 is insane, but Bianca pushed it even further and tied herself up in electrical cords and laid on the hallway floor for an hour as museumgoers assembled around her, taking pictures and interpreting her piece. She told me afterwards that she had to close her eyes because the feeling of being tied up and stared at was too intense. Christian, who had stripped down to his underwear and socks, screaming and dancing, surprised us all with his bravery and fervor.
I had decided that I would walk around the museum barefoot and, without notice, hold hands with visitors. So there we were leaving the conference room, each of us going our separate way, and all I could think of was how sweaty my hands where. I walked slowly through the galleries, at first to ensure I would not vomit on an Ansel Adams photograph, but eventually and naturally a slow glide became part of my performance. It took me five minutes of fierce inner dialogue to rally the courage to quietly approach a stranger and take her hand.
Her name was Rajeed and she did hold my hand. We chatted as we walked to the end of a long hall where I thanked her and we unclasped. As soon as our fingers touched the barrier was broken for me, I saw the force fields around each stranger dissolve and just like that the fear was gone. I went on to hold between 30 and 40 hands in that hour. Very few were like Rajeed. The first rejection stung, but I soon grew excited when I saw an empty hand dangling by an unknowing visitor’s side. I would swoop in and hope for a smile, or, if I was lucky, a conversation, but even with the brush-offs, each hand was a connection. I think the concentration of intimacy in just a few square inches of our hands was humbling for both the stranger and for me, that I did not want to stop; it was so lovely, and all I could do was smile.
I was not alone in this. My piece gave me the unique ability to walk around the whole museum and see all of my friends immersed in their brilliant work. Katy, who had recreated her bedroom in a corner near an elevator, never once lifted her head from her book; after all, she was alone in her room. Stephanie devotedly applied makeup to her face for an entire hour as visitors came within inches of her. Skylar handed out red balloons filled with only one exhale, in the stairwell, encouraging people to “take a breath.” I could hear John belting out Britney as I passed the second-floor bathroom, and Zoe?s camera clicking as she boldly and blatantly snapped pictures of visitors. We had taken over the museum absolutely and unapologetically.
When our hour was up and we receded back into the conference room, the energy of success was unmistakable. Ryan told us we were undoubtedly artists and we believe him. What started out as another fun project from the Cross-Museum Collective, culminated in a practice of guts and glory. As I said, I?ve done a quite a few projects with MoMA Teens and have worked with several artists, but on Sunday with Ryan things were different. Ryan gave us this incredible freedom and confidence to conceptualize and execute a new facet of our creativity. The thing is that he never doubted us, leaving our own doubt to melt away under his influence. So when it was go time and Ryan, Mark, and Matthew led us out into the wilds of MoMA PS1, we performed our hearts out and didn?t look back. My name is Alya Albert and I?m a performance artist.
The Cross-Museum Collective is a free 16-week program, created in conjunction between MoMA and MoMA PS1, and open to all alumni of our In the Making teen art courses. More info on Summer 2013 In the Making courses can be found at MoMA.org/MoMAteens. Special thanks to everyone at MoMA PS1, Ryan McNamara, Matthew Evans, Mark Joshua Epstein, and especially the 2013 Cross-Museum Collective: Betzy, Alya, Otis, John, Christian, Stephanie, Bianca, Julia, Zoe, Emily, Skylar, and Katy!