Showing posts with label Art Appreciation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art Appreciation. Show all posts

Thursday, 3 October 2013

The important things.


I surprised even myself when I walked away from the National Gallery of Victoria and the only thing I could think about was a painting from 1822.  That’s not a typo. Eighteen twenty-two. 

Normally I’d be super keen to check out the modern and contemporary art on display if I got the chance to go through a major collection like the NGV, and at first I was.  The collection was as impressive as I expected.  Being able to be in a building with artworks from masters like Picasso, Max Ernst, Jeff Koons, Man Ray, Rothko and Lee Kranser is awe inspiring.  It was flipping my switch, so to speak.  I was happy with my experience, taking in the glory of the modern masterpieces and being grateful to be seeing them. 

For some people, this is the kind of art you have to walk past to get to the good stuff; the old, gilded framed ‘classic’ masterpieces.  Realistic paintings of icons and metaphoric poses of animals and brooding, windswept figures.  I appreciate it.  I get it.  Art has a very long history and not all of it appeals to everyone.  That’s cool.  I do like looking at the skill and technique of these kinds of paintings and sculptures, but they don’t excite me the way modern and contemporary art does.  But then again, there’s always an exception to the rule.

After moving through a huge hall filled to the brim with centuries-old works I came across a small collection of works by John Constable.  For those of you who are a little rusty on your 19th Century landscape artists, Constable is considered one of the best.  He was an innovator in the way he represented the natural world.  He had an undeniable talent for combining truthful and natural representation of the world around him with compositional skill which communicated his own emotional response to that place.1  He’s an impressive and very important artist, just normally not my cup of tea. 

John Constable
Clouds, 1822
Oil on paper and cardboard
National Gallery of Victoria
At the very top of the view2 of Constables, there was a painting of some clouds.  It was made in 1822, and was originally a study for part of another larger painting.  Constable was almost obsessed with the sky.  Clouds (1822), was part of a series of about fifty very detailed studies of different weather conditions around Hampstead in England.3  It’s quite a striking image to be seen with the other regular-looking landscapes.  It has no land references whatsoever.  It’s all cloud and beautiful blue sky.  I think the most interesting thing is that the meaning I read from it was due in part to the position in which it was hung.  I don’t want to make it sound like the only reason I liked it was because of the installation, the painting is absolutely stunning, but its position gave it added meaning.

In a room full of romantic bronze figures, biblical scenes, and foreign landscapes there was this little porthole to the outside world.  Because Clouds is nothing but the sky, it doesn’t reference its native England.  It felt like a snapshot of the beautiful Australian sky just outside.  In that moment, I was reminded that I was deep inside a climate controlled, concrete bunker where stuff is made to last forever.  Constable was speaking to me saying, “Dude, pictures of nature are good, but go outside, it’s all real!  There is no substitute!”  Okay, John Constable probably never called anyone ‘dude’, but the intent was there.  It was a wonderful reminder of the beauty of the world outside, and that we shouldn’t take it for granted.  Through exquisite execution, he is saying that no matter how well we represent the world, that’s all art will ever be, a copy.


The fact that it’s a preparatory exercise being exhibited as a finished work means that it doesn’t operate like the other landscape paintings surrounding it.  It reads more like a contemporary work subtly inserted into a room of antiquity.  Clouds isn’t a representation of a specific geographic location, it could be anywhere in the world, which means that there’s a far greater chance that each viewer will have a connection to it, reminding them of familiar outside spaces.  In this way, the very general image becomes very specific to each viewer.

When I began thinking of the beauty of nature outside the gallery, I was also reminded of the wonders of nature inside the gallery with me, my family.  It was a very serene and grounding experience.   Life’s made better by sharing it with others, and in my case, my kids.  Through the most frivolous thing in the world, art, Constable seems to have the uncanny ability to remind us of the most important things in life.  This humble statement from a master painter made my trip to the NGV so much more than just a visit to another gallery.  Thanks John.

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1   Nga.gov.au. 2013. CONSTABLE : impressions of land, sea and sky. [online] Available at: http://nga.gov.au/Exhibition/CONSTABLE/Default.cfm [Accessed: 2 Oct 2013].

2   I just invented the collective noun for a group of Constable paintings.

3   John Constable: English 1776 - 1837. n.d. [Gallery didactic]. Felton Bequest, 1938, 455-4. National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne.



Saturday, 3 August 2013

Desert Island Top Five

I like art.  You may have noticed already.  I tend to talk about it quite a bit.  As a result, I sometimes get asked what my favourite artworks are, and to be quite honest I have real trouble answering.  There’s heaps of art I really, really like, and I tend to be able to find the positive points of pretty much anything, but I struggle when it comes down to pinpointing the artworks that are my personal favourites.  At best, in the style of Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity, I can narrow it down to a ‘desert island top five’ artworks I’d want to have with me if stranded in some deserted corner of the globe.
 
Art is experiential.  To count as a real favourite, I think you have to have seen it in the flesh.  In 1917, when Marcel Duchamp titled a store-bought porcelain urinal Fountain, and declared it as art, he pretty much became the ultimate granddaddy of conceptual art (where the ideas being pushed by the artwork are more important than the way in which it was made).  Even though it’s been hugely influential on my arts career, I haven’t actually seen it (well, any of the certified copies on show around the world at least), so I don’t think it should count as a favourite.
 
I feel a bit bad about admitting this, but none of my Desert Island Top Five is Australian.  Or produced by a female artist.  I’m a victim of the European, male-centric history of art.  No need to let me know, I’m well aware...    
 
 
Ken Leslie’s Desert Island Top Five Artworks (in no particular order)
 
 
Donald Judd
Untitled (1972)

 
Donald Judd’s artworks are what you might call an acquired taste.  They’re interesting in an intellectual way.  In a nutshell, Judd’s theory was that he wanted to make artworks that were somewhere between painting and sculpture.  He called these artworks Specific Objects, and they operate in their own little sphere of art.  Untitled (1972) is a perfectly produced brass box sitting in the middle of a huge room in the Tate Modern in London.  You can see how it was constructed, and you can tell that it’s been produced to exact specifications.  Because of its sheen, you can see a blurry, shadow-like reflection of yourself as you approach it.  The artwork is reminding you that you are a viewer in a gallery looking at a piece of art.  It’s the most honest artwork you’ll find.  Art about art, how am I not going to like it?

Mark Rothko
Untitled (c.1950-52)
FPKyI/AAAAAAAABMA/WEzDuuLf8CQ/s400/2417752533_5952664cee_o.jpg
Another artwork I experienced at the Tate Modern to hit my list was Mark Rothko’s Untitled (c.1950-52).  I’ve talked about this experience before, but I’ll recap for those of you who aren’t regular readers.  When I was at uni, I looked quite closely at Rothko’s work through art journals and slides.  The writing always mentioned the spiritual experience of sharing a space with one of these big, blurry paintings, and in the back of my mind I always thought they were blowing their response way out of proportion to make their article sound ah-may-zing.  Until I stood in front of one myself. Holy guacamole, they were right all along!  It was like a spiritual experience, and I could have stood there for hours just staring.  If my wife didn’t physically move me away (true story), it would have been the security guards at the end of the day.  This was probably the most moving art experience I’ve had to date.
  
Stonehenge
http://www.bluffton.edu/~sullivanm/stonehenge/whole.jpg
Alright, so Stonehenge isn’t really a piece of art.  It’s definitely not contemporary art, but it’s my list and I’ll include it if I want to.  I was lucky enough to be one of the lucky few to be part of a tour group allowed to actually go up to the stones and touch them.  At a distance, it’s a beautiful arrangement of things in a beautiful landscape; up close, the history and (dare I say it) magic seems to ooze out from the stones themselves.  It’s an amazing experience.  Walking around the stones, I found some graffiti scratched into one of the surfaces.  I was blown away when I worked out that it was a date from the 1800s, but a few moments later I couldn’t believe my eyes when we found a date in Roman numerals.  Running my fingers in those perfectly arranged grooves, I realised that the monument was thousands of years old when the millennia-old graffiti was new and crisp. 
 
Ai Weiwei
Table with two Legs (2005)
Ai%20Weiwei/06-HDK_AiWeiwei-table-with-two-legs.jpg
 
Ai Weiwei is the artist du jour.  Despite my usual reluctance to jump onto any bandwagon, here he is!  I saw his Table with two Legs (2005) at the Queensland Art Gallery, and immediately loved it.  Made from 350 year old furniture, it’s beautiful sacrilege.   This is an artwork that’s full of contradictions.  Its creation has destroyed a slice of antiquity, but now that it’s in the care of a major gallery, it will be kept in pristine condition in a controlled environment, much better than any private ownership ever would, protecting it forever.  The beautiful, useful object has had its functionality stripped.  It no longer has a utilitarian purpose; its only purpose now is beauty, with no function.  If you asked any history buff, they’d say that the table has been destroyed, but the manner in which the ‘destruction’ occurred was with precision, great care, and perfect craftsmanship.
Andy Warhol
Campbell's Soup Can (1962)
Photographic image of QAGoMA Catalogue
 
To those who know me, seeing Andy Warhol on this list should come as no surprise.  The artwork, however, might be.  When I visited the Warhol retrospective at the Gallery of Modern Art in Brisbane, there were a few stand-out pieces.  The huge (whole wall sized!) painting full of motorcycle parts and Catholic imagery was amazing, and the famous Disaster Series was so much more powerful than I had expected,  but there was a single ‘soup can’ painting that I thought was head and shoulders above anything else there.  Campbell’s Soup Can (1962) is an incomplete painting, but a complete artwork.  It’s outlined, but not filled in and still has masking tape across it.  I think it tells a hidden story about Andy Warhol himself.  Warhol tends to be branded by his own propaganda, the whole ‘I want to be a machine’ and public obsession with celebrity and fame paints him in a very superficial light, but the thing that often gets forgotten (or ignored) is his incredible eye for design and beauty.  This half-done artwork shows bravery that many artists lack.  Knowing when an artwork is complete, and understanding that that moment doesn’t always happen when your plan says it should is a very, very difficult skill to develop.  Andy got it.
 
So, that’s it.  My Desert Island Top Five.  I’ve got two honourable mentions though... Gimhongsok’s Canine Construction (2009) and Tony Tuckson’s No Title (c.1970s) (That title doesn’t help you in any way, but it’s one that I saw exhibited at the Museum of Brisbane in the early 00s.  Just know that it’s probably the best example of Abstract Expressionism ever.  Ever.).  This idea of favourites really interests me.  I’m quite sure that if I wrote this list again in a year’s time, it would be very different.  Maybe I will and we’ll see what it looks like.
 
I’d love you to add some comments here with your own Desert Island Top Five.  Even a partial list will do.  Share the love, people and let’s see what floats your boat! 
 
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Thanks to Sharne Wolff for her help with this one.  Follow her on twitter, well worth it. @sharnewolff. 
And thanks to the lovely Daena Scheuber whose idea this post was.  Follow her on twitter too!  @DScheuber.
 
The images used in this post were taken from web sources.  All care has been taken to link / credit those sources.  This blog is a not-for-profit type thing, in fact I haven't even added any of those annoying little ads down the side of your screen.

Monday, 29 July 2013

TEDx Rockhampton: Let's fill our schools with contemporary art!

Earlier this year, I was lucky enough to be invited to be a speaker at TEDxRockhampton.  If you don't know what a TED conference is, then you need to check 'em out at the TED website.  They're awesome, and I still feel pretty humbled by the fact I was asked to be a speaker.  

Obviously, I was speaking about art, but in particular, how we should be making more of a focus on the arts in our primary schools.  You can go to the TEDxRockhampton site to view a video capture of the live stream (well worth it, there were heaps of amazing talks!), or you can read my original version below.

Before you do read on (and I'm sure you will...), I'd like to thank the whole crew of TEDxRockhampton, and in particular Treassa Joseph who was the curator of the event, for putting on such a wonderful event.  I can't wait for TEDxRockhampton 2014!

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In 2008, I was on holiday in London with my family.  One day, I made everyone go to the Tate Modern to see the works of art first-hand I had studied and loved from journals and slides back home as an art student.  I didn’t quite get the experience I had expected.  I marvelled at the Pollocks and Judds; I was in awe of the overwhelming beauty of Monet’s Waterlilies; just as I thought I would.  It was a painting by American artist Mark Rothko that stopped me in my tracks.  Of course I’d seen images of his large-scale, colour field paintings and read about how seductive and engaging they were, but this painting literally took my breath away.  I gasped and I couldn’t move.  It ate me alive.  I stood slack-jawed until my wonderful wife actually moved me away from it.  Even after years of study and making art, being in the presence of this one painting, I felt like my eyes had been opened, and I often think back to my ‘Rothko moment’.  I could show you a slide of the painting, but showing an image of an artwork that needs to be experienced in the flesh seems a little redundant.

Back to the here and now.  As a primary school teacher and artist, I’m passionate about the role of the arts and creativity in our children’s education, but at the moment I’m afraid we’re pushing our kids towards an arts-less society. Recent neuroscience research from the United States tells us that interaction with The Arts in an education setting can play very real role in helping to create critical, flexible, hard-working, and creative students with significant long-term memory improvements.  These are the kind of kids we want to become the future leaders of our communities.  The ability to be a creative and flexible thinker is now thought of as one of the most important traits for business and industry leaders.  Unfortunately, the subject area that best teaches this is given little to no importance, both by the bureaucracy of education systems and by educators ourselves.  I’m afraid for this to continue.  I’m worried that an appreciation for the arts could be a dying trait.

The Arts currently has a recommended allocation of teaching time in primary school classrooms of between 4 and 5% of total teaching time.  This equates to only 40 hours a year to cover Visual Arts, Media, Music, Drama and Dance for year levels up to Grade 2, and only 50 hours a year to Grade 6.  I’m not going to stand here and say that all subjects should be given equal teaching time, I understand that literacy and numeracy are a huge focus, but one hour a week seems pretty slim for a subject area that will improve problem solving skills, critical thinking, and mental flexibility, all in a way that gets kids excited, motivated and enthusiastic about learning.
  
Teachers can often be their own worst enemy.  It’s a job where children look to you in an expert role, but what happens when you don’t feel like an expert yourself?  So many people believe that they’re not ‘creative’ and therefore not qualified to teach The Arts.  For many years the concept that being a creative genius is like a God-given talent, and if you don’t have it, you shouldn’t try has been inadvertently pushed through our education system.  It usually happens in one of two ways, arts assignments dropped onto desks and telling the students to ‘have at it’, thereby completely abandoning good teaching practices of providing guidance and support (no teacher in their right mind would introduce, say, division without explanation and giving working examples, so why do it for The Arts?), or the other, more detrimental outcome of reducing The Arts to colouring in on rainy days.  Both of these situations allow for the children who are more practiced or feel more comfortable in the arts excel in their own way, and the less confident students feeling lost and ‘uncreative’. 

I’m not saying that these are necessarily bad teachers, it’s just that they feel ill-equipped to carry out the syllabus effectively, and for many years they have been allowed to treat a subject with a smaller focus as a worthless subject.  But if the same situation was to be applied to another area, let’s say, a teacher not providing any instruction in English because they didn’t feel confident in it, they would be totally condemned. And rightly so.  It would just be nice to see some more equality.  If students are passing through our school system feeling uncreative, they will enter and leave university with the same self-concepts, becoming teachers who will be doomed to continue the vicious cycle.  More needs to be done both at the school level and at the teacher training level to improve the confidence levels of our beginning teachers in the Arts.

Having said all of this, the tide is slowly changing for the poor, neglected arts. Uber-popular arts education champions like TED legend Sir Ken Robinson are advocating for a complete rethink and reorganisation of the structure of our education systems to embed creativity as a core, guiding principle. But unlike Sir Ken, I’m working in a classroom right now, and as much as I would love it to happen, the allocation of hours dedicated to the arts or a total reshaping of our education system is not going to change any time soon.  I’m not sure we’ll ever see a nation-wide, standardised Arts test.  I believe that one day, the importance of creativity and the arts will be given more emphasis, but in the years (maybe even decades) it’s going to take to make those monumental changes, we urgently need to do something for the students in our system right now. 
  
We need to approach the problem from a new angle.  I believe that we can enrich the small amounts of time we do teach the arts so that each sliver is powerful and meaningful, and at the same time, enhance the built environment of our schools.  Let’s fill our schools with contemporary art. We should be installing actual examples from working contemporary artists.  I’m not talking about delivering a set of mass-produced prints to every school and classroom, or getting kids to paint a mural on every wall, but having experts curate high-quality contemporary art to be put on permanent display in the open areas of our schools. 

Good teaching practice says that we should cover the walls of our classrooms with instructional charts and aspirational examples of literacy and numeracy, yet the exterior of our schools are generally, a fairly dreary affair.  Where in the rulebook does it say that these high quality examples need to be confined to interiors of classrooms?  In fact, where is the rulebook at all?

There’s nothing stopping schools putting restrictions on the work of artists.  They’re very creative people after all.  We can say that the large-scale graphic design piece on the tennis court wall needs to include a horizontal line at net height.  We can say that the sculpture needs to safe for students to sit on, around, or under.  We can install sound-based art, or interactive art.  Artwork isn’t necessarily delicate, fragile, never-to-be-touched objects.  Hardy, weather-proof, graffiti-proof, 2D and 3D public art has existed for millennia.  We can demand artwork that meets and reflects the needs of the school, students, and community without diminishing artistic intent or meaning.

Creating an art-rich environment like this has many positive benefits for our students.  The exposure to contemporary art every day gives the arts value.  We tell our students that English, Maths and Science are important by dedicating time to them, but that means that the reverse is also true, that the Arts are not important because we rarely teach them.  Investing in art will finally tell our kids that art is important because we choose to surround ourselves with it.
  
The selection of these artworks is crucial.  The last thing I want to do is come out here and promote schools to coat every wall in a half-baked alphabet mural; or the school’s football team logo; or painting a million, boring, counting hopscotch games.  As bright and colourful as these things are, they don’t inspire us, all they do is fill the space.  The key is to install bold, complex, and intellectually challenging artworks.  If an artwork makes children (and adults for that matter) ask the question ‘why’, then it’s doing it’s job.  Why is it so big?  Why is it that colour?  Why is this thing even here?!  These questions are the start of critical thinking.  They’re the simple questions that lead into complex and in-depth contemplations.  And the great thing is that the teachers don’t even need to know the answers to any of the questions at all.  All they need to do is foster an honest conversation about possibilities, meanings, or opinions, then the students have engaged in critical thinking that they themselves have initiated and directed.  That five minute dialogue with a student while they line up for class sets them up for a day full of deep questioning and learning.  What a rare and wonderful thing! 

Being surrounded by challenging and unexpected artworks also helps the children to take risks.  When they understand that, yes, that is art.  And no, it doesn’t have to cater to everyone’s taste, then they may be more willing to take that responsible risk, and express themselves in honest and unique ways.  It helps to remove the fear of engaging in the arts.  Too many people say, ‘Oh, I’m not one of those creative people.’  Those people are wrong.  They are creative.  It’s just that the idea that they can be creative has been beat out of them by a system that devalues its worth and rarely leads by example.  When students are prepared to take risks, they become better mathematicians, scientists, technicians, writers and thinkers.  If exposure to a piece of challenging contemporary art could potentially start that process, then I feel that it is our obligation as educators to make it happen.  Sir Ken Robinson explains that our education system is based on an industrial model where employment and work skills are the ultimate goal.  Introducing contemporary art and artists into the school landscape may help to broaden the horizons of our students and bolster the arts sector in the future. 
  
The familiarity that comes with coexisting with an artwork gives the students a new frame of reference for the arts.  They are more able to make connections between artistic concepts during arts lessons because they have actually experienced the scale and presence of real artworks.  Something that many families may not voluntarily do in this day and age.  And it will give the real pleasure of growing older with an artwork.  When you have a high quality piece of art in your home, you experience it daily, but it doesn’t become stale.  When you change, when you grow, you see and experience it differently.  Imagine being surrounded by amazing, gallery-standard artwork throughout your formative, primary school years.  Imagine how your perceptions of the works (and art in general) would grow and change.  Those subtle changes of meaning and experience can’t be replicated in a 30 minute lesson.  By bringing contemporary art into our schools, we have a chance to expose our students to long-term benefits rarely afforded to many in our society.

Art breeds pride.  I believe that a school full of art wouldn’t become a target for graffiti and vandalism.  Street art and community murals are one of the best graffiti deterrents.  In fact, at my school, there is one particular Indigenous mural next to a sink.  Children have obviously washed out paintbrushes at this sink for many years, with the occasional student putting a handprint on the wall behind it.  The funny thing is though, the handprints have never gone onto the mural.  This sink is next to a Prep & Year 1 classroom.  Even five-year-olds understand that you don’t mess up art.  A school full of art is a school full of pride.

I’ll deal with the issue that I’m sure is flashing like a neon sign in your head right now: great idea, but who is going to pay for all of this?  Here in Australia, arts funding is available from both State and Federal Governments.  And it’s fairly substantial.  The Queensland Government through Arts Queensland periodically releases funds for public art, most notably, Art Built-in (1999-2007) and art+place Queensland Public Art Fund (2007-2012) which injected well over ten million dollars into public art projects.  For State and public schools, the co-contributions may even be zero, meaning you could install a significant piece of work for nothing but paperwork.  Arts Queensland also partners with Education Queensland and the Australia Council for the Arts to run the Artist in Residence program which is specifically aimed at getting working artists directly involved with schools to improve student outcomes.  Failing that, there’s also lucrative private and community-based funding which can be explored, such as philanthropic foundations and even crowdfunding.  Creating an art-rich environment does takes money and huge effort, but the benefits far exceed the costs.

We have the chance to embed so many of the amazing benefits of the arts into our education system, without having to sacrifice crucial hours spent on literacy and numeracy. So let’s change the way we approach arts education; swerve away from a scary, arts-less future; invest in contemporary art for our schools, and give our students their very own ‘Rothko moment’ every time they step inside our school gates.






Saturday, 23 March 2013

But the Archibald Prize likes you...


Each year, the Art Gallery of New South Wales puts on “Australia’s most extraordinary art event”[1], the Archibald Prize.  It’s a huge deal.  Unfortunately, it may be one of the only times in the year when the general public gives a tinker’s cuss about contemporary art.  So why do art critics seem to give it so much grief?

Each year, mud is slung at the Archibald by those whose opinion we’re all supposed to trust because they’re the professionals.  In The Australian, Christopher Allen gave us the angle that there’s too much painting based on photography and that the whole show is staged for people who don’t know anything about art.[2]  A weird combination of criticisms, I think.  It’s hard to complain about an exhibition being too populist and whinge that the paintings which make it up use a common frame of reference for most, considering that most of us carry a camera everywhere we go.  I can only imagine that Mr Allen would much prefer the Archibald Prize to be made up of heaps more painterly, difficult-to-relate-to paintings, and generally be a far more unpopular event.

Del Kathryn Barton
Hugo
http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/prizes/archibald/2013/29358/

John McDonald (writing for The Sydney Morning Herald) on the other hand, called Del Kathryn Barton’s 2013 winning portrait of Hugo Weaving “basically a coloured-in drawing, as much an illustration as a painting”.[3]  Well, at least it doesn’t look like a photo, I guess.  In a fairly scathing preview of the prize, McDonald referred to some of the finalist’s work as cloying, stultifying, unpleasant, and trying too hard.  So apart from swallowing a thesaurus, he’s pretty much said that the whole field weren’t good enough examples of art to be part of a showcase event.  I guess he needs to keep his cranky reputation going by biting the hand that feeds him.

So, the Archibald Prize features too much work that looks like a photo, paintings that are little more than illustration, or are flat and dull, or generally not up to standard.  Arrrgh!  There’s not much left to hang!  It’s the same kind of people who complain that there’s not enough funding for the arts in Australia, but you can’t take the line that the arts should be totally elitist and at the same time expect the general public to fork over tons of cash to keep it going.  “Hey!” I hear you say.  “You’ve said before that you don’t mind art being a bit elite, stop changing your mind, Leslie!”  It’s true, I think art-making should be a bit elitist, but art appreciation is for everybody and if the Archibald Prize caters for a non-art-viewing public, great.  At least contemporary art is getting some sorely needed exposure.

The one thing that the critics all seem to agree on is that the trustees of AGNSW, the folks who select the winner, have no idea what they’re on about.  There are so many art prizes around the nation all year round which are judged by critics, curators, directors and an assortment of other arts professionals, why shouldn’t there be one judged by an arbitrary group of arts-interested “political cronies and captains of industry” (as Joanna Mendelssohn so aptly put it)?[4]  Again, it’s the idea that the general public has any form of ownership of the arts that the critics seem to be frustrated with.

Whether the critics like it or not, the Archibald Prize is popular, and the negative responses they put out year to year can only be doing them, and the arts in general, a disservice.  For the people who only really experience the arts through the Archibald, they may only read one review a year.  And to consistently see it run down by the very people who are supposed to champion Australian art, the only conclusion they can come to is that it’s not worth visiting an art gallery or seeing a play or reading a poem or listening to music because apparently we only produce crap in this country.  No wonder people will visit the Tate, MoMA, or the Louvre when they travel, but will never go to a major gallery in their own country.  Contemporary Australian art isn’t rubbish, and art isn’t just for the people ‘in the know’, it’s for everyone.


I have no problem with the Archibald Prize whatsoever.  It may be a little idiosyncratic for Australians to love portraiture, but what’s wrong with that?  We celebrate everything else that’s unique about our society and culture, so why not celebrate our public fascination with pictures of people.  It’s like an annual anti-tall poppies syndrome extravaganza, showcasing some of our best and brightest citizens.  Especially when you don’t know the subject of the portrait, you find out who it is and learn a little more about our wonderful and diverse community.  That is, until they announce the winner, and then we can all argue about which painting we thought should have won.  But people talking about which piece of art they thought was best seems a whole more productive than picking out the pieces you thought weren’t up to scratch.

I think a big thank you should go out to all the artists who enter the Archibald Prize, whatever their style.  They obviously don’t mind the exposure and public recognition that comes with being a finalist.  I can honestly say that I’ve never heard an artist complain that they’ve become too popular or that too many people appreciate their work.  The facts are quite plain: the Archibald prize is a drawcard for AGNSW; artists aspire to win it; it creates positive exposure for the arts; and it generates funds for the arts.

I only hope that the 2014 Archibald Prize is met with some positive press for a change.  Instead of whinging and moaning about every tiny detail that doesn’t meet our ridiculously high standards, let’s talk about all the good stuff, and finally be proud of our nation’s most prestigious art prize.  I know I am.
Mitch Cairns
Self-Portrait
http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/prizes/archibald/2013/29361/


Abdul Abdullah
The Man
http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/prizes/archibald/2013/29356/
Michael Zavros
Bad Dad
http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/prizes/archibald/2013/29394/

Xu Wang
Self-portrait (interviewing Maoist victims)
http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/prizes/archibald/2013/29391/



[1] Artgallery.nsw.gov.au (2013) Archibald, Wynne and Sulman Prizes 2013 :: Art Gallery NSW. [online] Available at: http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/exhibitions/archibald-wynne-sulman-prizes-2013/ [Accessed: 23 Mar 2013].
[2] Allen, C. (2013) Portraiture that looks like a snap to paint in Archibald Prize. [online] Available at: http://www.theaustralian.com.au/arts/portraiture-that-looks-like-a-snap-to-paint/story-e6frg8n6-1226597610423 [Accessed: 23 Mar 2013].
[3] Mcdonald, J. (2013) Vines, an indefinable lifeform - but where's the insight?. [online] Available at: http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/art-and-design/vines-an-indefinable-lifeform--but-wheres-the-insight-20130322-2glat.html [Accessed: 23 Mar 2013].
[4] Mendelssohn, J. (2013) Australian art's great circus: loving and loathing the Archibald. [online] Available at: http://theconversation.com/australian-arts-great-circus-loving-and-loathing-the-archibald-12904 [Accessed: 23 Mar 2013].

Saturday, 15 December 2012

Dropping the C bomb...

When I hear the term Community Art, I find it difficult not to think of kids painting ugly murals, sewing circles putting their work in a glass cabinet, and dare I say it, occupational therapy.  Not cool, I hear you say, but I’m afraid that’s the stigma community art has.
 
The interaction between communities and the arts is really important, and just recently I’ve come to realise that things have changed since I developed my (frankly) narrow-minded view on what Community Art is.  The root of my old beliefs is an issue of language which brings with it a social divide: Art versus art.  (Capital) Art people believe that (lower case) art people are quaint because they try so hard to make pretty pictures but have no idea of the complex nature of ‘real’ art, and find it irritating that everyone gets to say they're an artist because they once participated in a weekend workshop.  (Lower case) art people believe that (capital) Art people are elitist wankers who think that if your art isn’t publicly acknowledged or in a huge gallery it’s rubbish, and will defend even the ugliest, ‘least artistic’ turd in a gallery saying that it’s an important piece of art history.  No prizes for guessing which camp I call home...
 
But now I’m slightly older and (hopefully) wiser, I can see that these things aren’t so black and white.  The community groups that get together to paint a mural, or to take part in a workshop, or use artistic activities to work through an issue or even just to be sociable, are engaged in what I can see as one of three categories of Community Art: Arts-based community activities.  And while these activities aren’t high art in any sense, they do serve a purpose in the community, and they do expose artistic thinking and processes to a very wide audience.  Not my cup of tea, but who made me the king of everything artsy, right?
 
Building a community of artists is another of my categories of Community Art.  This is something that’s vital in developing the arts in any wide community.  Artists need to be in communication with other artists to stay connected with the world around them and to continue their practice in any meaningful way.  This happens in heaps of different ways, but I don’t think they’re always recognised as a community of artists because they’re not structured networking systems like clubs or organisations.  Quite a lot of the time it’s really about socialising at arts events and getting to know the other artists in your local area.  Schmoozing around and keeping your ear to the ground is how you participate in these communities.  Having said that, clubs, groups, and organisations do make it easier to be a part of an artistic community, for example the amazing job Creative Capricorn do in my local area in connecting artists and facilitating projects.  Networking has become even easier now with the use of social media like Facebook, where artists can meet up, spread word of shows and projects, and post and comment on each other’s work.
 
Although these first two categories of Community Art are great, this is where I think things are getting exciting.  Community-focussed arts.  This is where arts organisations use their core business of producing and promoting the arts to develop social interaction and positive community values.  I’ve come across two fantastic examples of this in recent times that really exemplify the idea of community-focussed arts.  The first is my local gallery (the Rockhampton Art Gallery) which has recently changed the way it manages its shows, and begun to involve the wider community to a greater extent.  It’s started to hold exhibitions which are aimed more towards the traditionally ‘un-artsy’ people, in particular exhibitions highlighting local sporting heroes (including one specifically about rugby league) and a fashion-based show.  They’ve also started showing works which may have been considered a little risqué for a regional gallery, making the gallery a bit more cutting edge and appealing to a younger crowd.
 
A call went out from the gallery to help purchase a Ben Quilty painting via donations.  This isn’t a new concept by any stretch of the imagination, but the call promised to make contributors of over $500 an official Donor.  This is almost communal ownership of a piece of contemporary art!  My only real issue is of the $500 threshold.  Why not acknowledge everyone who donates?  Someone may not be able to afford to drop that much cash, but could maybe scrape together five or ten bucks for the cause.  Personally, I’d love to see the painting exhibited right next to all of the names of those who donated.  They could even be arranged with different text sizes to represent the size of the contribution, but imagine seeing your name (no matter how small) next to a fabulous painting that your dollars helped to buy.  Now that’s community engagement!  But I digress... all of these measures have begun to make the gallery a central part of the community, not just a space for art weirdoes and oldies to spend their time.  The art has begun to shape and build the community around it.
 
The other amazing example of community-focussed arts is an initiative in Toowoomba called TheGrid.  This is a space that houses well over ten different artistic enterprises in the one building.  Again, not a new concept, but it’s the spirit in which it is run that makes all the difference.  It blows away the old ideas of an arts centre that’s hidden away from the world, known only to a special few; it’s inviting and exciting and inspiring.  But best of all, it’s not an ‘everyone gets to put their painting up’ type of space.  It’s serious (capital) Art, but specifically aimed at engaging whole communities.  It has a gallery, creative writing programs, dance spaces and programs, retail spaces, and even film makers.  You can’t just rock up and have your turn at being an artist, but if you have skill or dedication or talent or even just a vague interest, you can become involved and mingle and share and explore, and with any luck build up the community using your own skill set.  Creativity and community engagement are the twin backbones at TheGrid.  It’s a prime example of how the arts can be community driven, but not watered down.
 
Turns out that I’ve always been quite passionate about Community Art, I just didn’t quite understand the whole spectrum of the term.  The notion that I have this blog at all is testament to that fact.  I do believe that everyone should engage in the arts, and I love the idea of the community being truly involved in arts organisations and events.  I just hope I don’t visibly cringe the next time I see an ‘art exhibition’ of first-time crochet workshop participants.
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https://www.facebook.com/groups/230133613696489/ (Contemporary Artists of Rockhampton)

 

Monday, 1 October 2012

... in living colour!

This is the recording of my presentation at the September Walter's Lounge event in Rockhampton. The Keppel Coast Arts Council host a monthly event at the Walter Reid Cultural Centre featuring local musicians and artists. I delivered this presentation as a kind of introductory session on viewing contemporary art. It covers and combines some of the things I've already mentioned here on WAILAT?, but also adds some handy guidelines into the mix, with the added bonus of actually hearing and seeing me say it all! If you don't really want to listen to me speak, or you can read faster than I can speak, I've also added roughly what I said (minus the examples of artworks) as text below.

This was filmed and edited by a pal of mine, Terry Wreghitt. He's a short film maker. You should check him out. But be warned, the two films hosted here do feature me. http://vimeo.com/user1765006

Enjoy!

 

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I have a big question for you...

Who is the audience for contemporary art? The answer: Everyone. My evidence for this is that galleries are generally free to visit and you don’t need a secret password or a key to get in, it’s not a secret society. If you’re one of the people out there who might like to visit an art gallery, you should feel like you belong there, that your opinions on what you’re looking at are valid and worthwhile. The big problem is that many people don’t feel like they have the right to comment on art, especially if it’s only an occasional visit, or if they’ve been dragged there by some well-meaning relative.

I believe that there are many hidden barriers stopping people enjoying art and what art can do for them. I think the biggest of these barriers is that art is confusing. Heaps of art throughout history has been pretty difficult to get a handle on, for a wide variety of reasons, some of it’s full of symbols and hidden meanings, some of it’s confronting, some of it seems empty, and some of it’s just plain old weird. And without a decent education in art, this can leave you feeling like you’re the only person in the room who doesn’t get the joke, or make you feel like an ‘uncultured swine’. We have professional critics, curators, directors, (the list goes on) who are all very adept at being astute commentators on art, and a lot of people think that if you’re not one of them then they shouldn’t be commenting on art at all.

I’m not going to lie to you, having a good grounding in art history helps a lot, but that really shouldn’t exclude you from experiencing art, and it certainly doesn’t mean that your opinion on it isn’t worthwhile. I liken the feeling of not understanding art to a feeling of illiteracy, because you can see that there’s something there, you just don’t understand it. My belief though, is that people actually do have the tools and knowledge to interact with art, but don’t know how to begin or approach it. Luckily, I’ve come up with some guidelines to help anybody make that first step into making expert comments on art.

I’ve boiled the process down to two broad concepts you need to keep in mind when looking at art:
  1. Yes, it is art.
  2. You need to ask questions to get answers.
I know, it sounds ridiculous. This can’t be everything I need to remember when I’m looking at art, surely! Well, it is. Both points carry some pretty hefty concepts, so I’ll unpack them both, and then we’ll put them into practice. Before we do though, I’d like to remind you that this is only one way of developing a response to an artwork, there are many, many different ways of doing it, but I think that my guidelines are easy to remember, and can teach you a lot about art, and even yourself when you follow them.

Yes, it is art.

It doesn’t really sound like much, but this is a huge realisation for many people. Saying to yourself, “Yeah, this is actually a piece of art” means that you have to drop any negative thoughts about what you perceive as what constitutes ‘good’ art. It’s all about not being side-tracked by thinking, “Bloody hell, I could do that in about 12 minutes” or “My kid could do that” or “This cost how much?!”. This acceptance of art being worth looking at is usually the first casualty of contemporary art in society. There’s three reasons for this, and we need to touch on each to really understand why we need to forget it.

1. History.

Art has a very long history, and the icons we hold up as being the ultimate masters of art, like the Ninja Turtles, Picasso, Van Gogh, are ones that have made works that are now generally accepted as great works. When we see something that is claiming to be art, but doesn’t fit the ideals of being in-line with the greats, many people dismiss it as junk. The thing we need to remember is that at some stage, even the greats were trailblazers and their work was the stuff that didn’t fit in to the accepted view of art.

2. Our homes.

We shouldn’t confuse art that belongs in a gallery with art that belongs in our homes. Just because we can’t picture a piece of art hanging in our lounge room (or even picture it in any residential space at all) doesn’t mean it’s not worth looking at. It has a place to hang, and that’s in the gallery you’re in. Art doesn’t need to be pretty.

3. The media.

I guess sometimes there are slow news days and the only thing to focus on is art. The media has a bit of a history of beating up contemporary art; usually it’s about the cost. Unfortunately, the only thing this does is reinforce the opinion that art is a waste of time and money. This should all be ignored, just like we ignore bad press on sport or anything Kyle Sandilands says.

So, yes it is art. When we forget all of the baggage that has been loaded onto contemporary art, we’re free to see that it’s not nothing or frivolous, and it’s been created for us to view.

The other thing I should mention here is the reason artists make their work, the artist’s intention. Knowing what an artist wanted to achieve with a piece can really alter the way you read an artwork, but most casual observers of art aren’t reading journals and monographs and books about an artist before seeing their work, so we won’t enter that into the equation.

What we’re talking about here is regular, untrained folk going into a gallery on a Saturday arvo, looking at some art and making some intelligent comments and learning a little. And the very first step is to all agree that what we’re looking at, love it or hate it, is in fact, art.

You need to ask questions to get answers.

This one sounds simplistic as well. As a viewer of an artwork, you’ll always have questions, because you’re not the one who made it. They’re the things you would ask the artist if they were standing next to you in the gallery. I guess there are two types of questions you could ask about an artwork, questions of logistics (like “how did they make that?” or “I wonder how they got that in here?), and critical questions (like“Why is it so big?”, “Why is it all black and white?”, or “Why does it make me feel so sad?”). More often than not, the questions of logistics don’t get us anywhere, it’s the critical questions we need to focus on.

Usually, these questions start as minor, obvious observations about an artwork, and are quickly dismissed as being silly or not important and jump to the grand question of“What does it all mean?”. But the truth is, we answer the question of what it couldmean by working though these little observations. I do find it funny that people get annoyed when they don’t totally understand the whole meaning and purpose of a painting in a single, casual viewing, without any research, work, or prior knowledge. “I don’t get it! It’s rubbish!” Artists are clever people, but we’re not miracle workers! Back to my point, it’s important to stick to the first question you stumble on. If it’s the first thing you notice, there’s a good chance it will be the most important thing to you, and it will enlighten you the most. If you notice that the artwork is massive, think about why it is. If you first notice that the sculpture is shiny, think about why the artist would want to reflect the viewer. If you noticed the boobs first… high five, dude!

But who answers the questions for you? You do. It sounds a bit strange, but when you answer the obvious questions with obvious answers, you’ll either work something out about the purpose of the artwork, or it will lead you to a new question to answer. And eventually, you’ll come to some sort of a conclusion or at least a statement about the work or even just a clearer picture of how the artwork makes you feel. In a moment, I’ll go through a few examples to hopefully make this clearer, but before I do, I need to say that not everyone will come to the same conclusion. We don’t need to agree on art, in fact, the best part of viewing art is the discussions it builds with the other people you’re visiting the gallery with. And like I mentioned before, your perception of the work may not match the artist’s intention either, but again, that’s okay too.

In closing, I’d like to leave you with the message that contemporary art is an important thing, and that everyone has the ability and the right to have something worthwhile to say about it. Especially you.