#thefutureofthecritic

The presence of the critic is becoming increasingly fainter in the cultural landscape. Once an authority to the masses, the masses have now become the authority. We know that the future is social and that we increasingly define ourselves by our networks and accumulated “like” capital. We’re sharing, posting, publishing and pining with fervor, allowing our chosen platforms to project all the 140 character long, photogenic square-shaped things we like. Amazeballs.

But what’s being forgotten with all this awesome totes cool positivity is the importance and rightful place of the critical voice. “Like”-ism has replaced criticism as the qualitative signifier. Traditionally the place of the critic in the arts has always been supported; while the modes and methods have evolved, there has always a mutual agreement between the creator and critic that their existence is codependent.

But as we know history is quickly becoming what we refer to as yesterday’s news feed. In this age of instantaneous content production and consumption, quality criticism is quickly being replaced with impulsive comment and motley sharing. What have now is the ‘critical courier’ who embedded and invisible the broadcast.

Smart devices have become our phantom limbs, allowing us to fulfill the Zuccerbergian goal of Frictionless Sharing and instant endorsement (BTW when did ‘Zuccerbergian’ become an adjective?) What we have now is criticism by omission. If you are not part of the shared narrative, then your relevance is questioned. Reputation banks are what dictate quality in this like-economy, where identity is currency and image is wealth. 

Meta-armies of cultural couriers that dictate taste and fashion are increasingly replacing considered critique with a bricolage of short thoughts. Audiences and cultural consumers only receive what is in the feed, or at best a tarted-up press release adorned with a few hybrid words ending in "…ence". In the quest to be liked and followed we seem to have developed a phobia to expressing and discussing critical views.  Criticism isn’t the same as schadenfreude; it’s very different from the sad cat diary. At its core is the ability to think for oneself, which is on the verge of wipeout from networked intelligence.

If the late art critic Robert Hughes is right and the ‘new job of art is to sit on the wall and get more expensive’, then perhaps the new role of criticism is to sit on the pleasant fence and get more vapid. An observant, art critic friend of mine pointed out that the best criticism around today is Fashion Police. This E! Entertainment is show devoted to learned, considered and wonderfully candid sartorial criticism that makes Joan Rivers to fashion what Hughes was to visual arts. Okay perhaps that’s pushing it, but can you imagine those two on the couch together? It would be brilliant!

But until NBC does a posthumous pilot for the Hughes and Rivers Show, critical thought and response can’t just be swallowed and softly regurgitated by the networked vernacular. Things don’t evolve to greatness through shares and likes, they evolve through vigorous thought and frank discussion. Fashion Police, you have a new pupil.

Artists | Art works | Art’s work | Arts workers

they have the right idea

Artists

Art works

Art’s work

Arts workers

These are the main operators of a sprawling, complex and fragile web that is know as the visual arts. And while it may appear to the onlooker that as an industry we are united by the gossamer of passion and creative spirit, the reality is that we are all eking out a strained and increasing leaner livelihood trying to do the things that justify our existence (read funding).

Some of you may of read Saturday’s SMH article on the ‘Tit-Farm’, featuring a bohemian rundown house filled with artistic demi-goddesses in sheer vintage skirts, nursing kittens and babes under a warm, dream catcher diffused light (in art, even a bad news story is aesthetically pleasing…). Tit-Farm was used to highlight the how difficult it has become to be an artist in Sydney with the spiraling costs of living matched with uncertain and irregular income streams.

A proposed solution is to provide sibsidised housing and work spaces for artists by classifying them as ‘key workers’ who are entitled to affordable, inner-city rents and other benefits or concessions would make their existence much more secure. The plan proposed by Saint Clover (aka Lord Mayor) aims to have some positive affect on the thousands of artists that are struggling to survive and maintain artistic output in this brutally expensive city. And it’s not just the cliché of the emerging artist starving in the garret, I know prize winning, gallery represented artists that are only just hanging on.

And I also know a huge amount of highly educated, over qualified and extremely experienced arts workers have to live and work in the city, just scraping by and making very consequential sacrifices in order to remain working in this field. There aren’t articles written about them or policies dedicated to assisting their profession. There is no gallery assistant grant or subsidized housing for arts administrators. And the other alarming, but not surprising fact is that they are mostly women, quietly persevering and taking on more and more work without any extra remuneration or time in lieu to compensate.

What the wider community must also realize is that the arts, outside of publicly funded institutions, is largely unregulated and unchecked. If it were held to other industry standards such as paid overtime, defined roles and monitored work loads the fact is that this country would not have a visual arts sector. The visual arts could not afford to exist. Arts workers are just as ‘key’ as the artists they work tirelessly to support and promote.

This is not an argument of us-and-them, artists and arts workers are utterly codependent. What is required is a broadening of the assistance and support networks that are in place for artists in order for arts workers to gain some benefits as well. We’re all part of the same equation working for the same outcomes, therefore if is crucial that artists and art workers are given the same support and opportunities to thrive.

How to create a hipster art collection

 

I came across this piece of satirical gold the other day and while it could be retail’s version of Portlandia, it got me thinking about the ideas behind it. I have always maintained that art needs to look at the retail sector in much more detail and realize that what is happening in retail now will be happening in art galleries in three to five years time. For example, we all know that physical shops are a species in decline and retail is going through a Darwinian style evolution which will result in online ‘experiences’ that will mimic the bricks and mortar encounter.

We also know that galleries are closing in waves due to a combination of consecutive years of economic downturn, reduced investment in art and a more restrained collecting mentality. Whereas retail has shifted and adapted to the market, commercial art still seems to be stuck in a Queen Street fantasy, thinking that the market will hop in their German made cars and come to them. While this is still mostly true, what commercial art isn’t addressing and Freedom Furniture is, is that in five to ten years the collector will be a different species that has been raised on a diet of accessibility, availability and visibility.

So scorn as much as you like (or laugh, because it is brilliant), but Freedom Furniture knows that their future market will be the ‘hipsters’ and they must speak their language, understand their psychology and most importantly come to them. Commercial galleries need to study their future buyers, start to foster a collecting culture amongst them and take the gallery experience to them; be it physical, online, pop-up, pop-down or pop-corn, whatever it takes to engage with the next generation of collectors.

Can You Tell Me How To Get To Eveleigh Street? An interview with Reko Rennie

 

 

Can You Tell Me How To Get To Eveleigh Street?

an interview with Reko Rennie 

I caught up with Rennie between coats of paint on the last day of his project for the Eora Journey, a City of Sydney project that aims to communicate local indigenous stories through a series of public artworks. Rennie’s work distinct work, Welcome to Redfern, was made possible through the energy, ideas and enthusiasm of a select group of young Redfern locals, now budding street artists in their own right.   

MG: Your background is in graffiti and street art, how has this helped with stuff you’ve doing here in Redfern with these kids?

RR: They can see someone who has come from a similar background to them expressing themself in contemporary mediums like stencil, markers and spray paint, which they love. I came from a place that was just like this, the Western suburbs of Melbourne used to be really dodgy, everyone was working class and poor, and it had huge issues with drugs and crime. I didn’t go to art school, New York graffiti got me inspired in the Eighties and as a teen I started tagging and doing graff. These kids see an Aboriginal dude expressing himself in mediums they relate and using imagery that isn’t necessarily what everyone thinks you should be doing.

A lot of the time there is the authenticity bullshit in Aboriginal art, that artists should be doing dots or a particular style to be considered authentic. That is just one region and there are 260 different language groups each with their own cultural and artistic practices, so not every community does dots. 

MG: And often the urban story is neglected, being seen as not as valid?

RR: That’s right, so part of this process has been about raising awareness and educating these kids about what is their contemporary identity and how they can use contemporary mediums to express this. They can see that this is just as authentic as any other Aboriginal art.

MG: Artists like Richard Bell and Vernon Ah Kee come to mind.

RR: Exactly, and that you can get away with saying stuff by using art as a powerful voice to inform and raise awareness.

MG: Especially for teenagers, from all walks, there can be hesitation about articulating what they’re feeling.

RR: We workshopped the imagery all together to come up with a contemporary representation of Aboriginal youth by these future leaders, so this is their vision of Redfern and the community now.

MG: The also artwork references what has gone before, like the paintings up at the train station and the flag on the gym wall, both local icons.

RR: Of course, so we never set out to replicate or replace anything that is already here because everything has its place and they are all beautiful. This work is a representation of these kid’s lives now, in the 21^st century.

MG: And importantly, the kids are developing technical skills and their own aesthetic?

RR: They are all stenciling, spraying and marking, they are learning to express themselves through different mediums and they have this visual voice now. It’s been an honor for me to be part of it; it’s really not my artwork, I’m just the vehicle to show them how.

MG: The role of art is to express and communicate, how does this public work continue this conversation?

RR: Art gives you voice and in particular with issues relating to us there are so many things to talk about, positive and negative and art is a great medium to raise these issues in a public environment. That is also why I love working outdoors, because you’re not limited to a particular clientele. I don’t call myself a street artist because I’m not active in the scene anymore, but that is where I came from and public artwork is a beautiful thing.     

The Value of Art By Michael Findlay

 

The Value of Art 

By Michael Findlay , Prestel, 2012

Art-lit appears to be an increasingly popular genre, from Sarah Thornton’s libel- causing Seven Days in the Art World to tales of ambitious gallerists in Steve Martin’s An Object of Beauty and Tom Wolf’s latest novel Back to Blood, set in the feeding frenzy that is the Miami Art Fair. And not to mention the plethora of ‘how to buy and sell art’ titles that date faster than a Women’s Weekly cookbook.

Sitting somewhere in between all these is Michael Findlay’s The Value of Art. It’s part market report, part memoir peppered with thoughts ranging from lack of sincerity of current collectors to the rapid rise and future predictions for the Asian art market.

As far as dealer pedigree goes, Findlay is at the top of the ladder. He is a director at Acquavella Galleries, New York and was previously Head of Impressionist and Modern Paintings then International Director of Fine Art at Christies, New York. While he can speak with great authority, it does seems odd considering where Findlay is situated to be criticising the behaviour and mentality of a market that he and his associates have undoubtedly profited from.  

Findlay divides the book into four sections, symbolically naming the first three for Zeus's daughters, the Three Graces, in order to analyse complexities of modern art.

Thalia is the Goddess of Fruitfulness thus representing the commercial marketplace and financial lures of art, candidly explaining exactly how money makes the art world go round, up and of late, down.

Part two is Euphrosyne, the Goddess of Joy, metaphor for the social aspect of art. This is both the positive, communal act that art stimulates as well as the social power that is derived from being part of the “Big Numbers” set.

The third section is Aglaea, for the Goddess of Beauty, which for Findlay is where the real, intrinsic value of art lies. The final section is ‘Marley's Ghost: Past, Present, Future’ where he bemoans the cult of the collector that now micro-manages the art world; the dangers of instant gratification in art and the superficial ‘glancing’ culture in which we live.

Given the top shelf art that Findlay has handled through his career, readers must steel themselves as even most quotidian examples he gives involve names that read like a room sheet at The Met.

Consequently he is much more compelling when he loses the ‘art speak’ and talks frankly about the industry he knows so well such as gallery and auction house PR being disguised as ‘news’ and industry gush replacing fair and learned criticism.

Findlay reinforces the mantra of all successful collectors: buy what you like not what you think the market will like and that the best investment you can make is in developing your eye and understanding. He advises collectors to look at all types of art and to get to know the dealers and artists but remain aware of the dynamic of these relationships.

Another tip is to be adventitious, dedicate a percentage of your buying budget for works by emerging artists because every established artist was once an ‘unknown’. And most importantly, if you love the art you live with its value will only ever increase.

Redlands Konica Minolta Art Prize 2013

 

This is the second year of the relationship between the Redlands Art Prize and the National Art School Gallery, Darlinghurst, a positive coupling that unites contemporary artists with a fantastic, central exhibition space.

The prize is unique for its big brother and sister artists duos, where each invited artist brings an emerging artist with them for the ride. The dynamics of these relationships aren’t reflected in visual cues or styles; all you can assume is that the big ‘A’ artists really want audiences to see work of the little ‘a’ artists. Not a bad way to increase the exposure and circulation for lesser known artists, and to remind audiences that every established artist was once emerging as well.

As I was tasked with reporting the show through the ole' 'Gender/Sexuality' framework (oldie but a goldie), what struck me right away how sexless the exhibition appeared to be. Not to be confused with not sexy, sexless is the new ‘it’ thing across numerous creative disciplines from music to performance to dance. Sexless has become the new ‘international’, an obtund sensory language that is all-inclusive and endlessly neutral. The works in the show take this up in numerous ways.

Cate Consandine’s work Colony engages with the idea of The Boy and his ‘condition of becomingness’, pointing out (literally) the fragility of being suspended between the states of boy and man (or for the unenlightened, puberty). This work could have had much more potency had it been focused on the one form of expression. Instead audiences have to link a video of a hapless nappy-clad adolescent on his back, arms and legs flapping, with an adjacent buffed-steel spear suspended from the roof and corresponding ring on the floor, which are menacing and visually striking. This thematic relationship is not easy to arrive at, which is a shame as the video and sculpture possess enough interest on their own, whereas combining them dilutes and confuses their meaning.

Jen Broadhurst’s three channel video Abstract Feminism delivers exactly what the title promises, three screens of white leotard clad women exercising, wriggling and moving in a vision of pure abstractionism turned physical. The rigid principles of primary colour and pure line and form are made comfortable and soft-edged in this fun and welcoming work.

The winning team is clearly Deborah Kelly and her chosen partner, Cigdem Aydemir. Aydemir won this year’s prize for her work video Bombshell, a continuous shot of a towering woman dressed in full burqa mimicking the famous Marilyn Monroe hot air vent shot. The imposing black clad figure is the anchor to the whirling, buoyant garment that, just like that bombshell Monroe, teases the audiences with what will never be seen. Perhaps it is a comment on the vocal offence the West’s takes to veiled women, devoid of the superficial identifiers that we see as female qualities, but which are perhaps just a bit of marketing-induced hot air.

Kelly’s work The Miracles reiterates her preoccupation with gender roles and society’s hetero-normative assumptions on notions of the family. Kelly’s work consists of modern and religious icons. The modern icons are classicised portraits of families who have used Assisted Reproductive Technologies, essentially immaculate conceptions. The composite work is a projected photomontage of actual icons and Renaissance visions of family. The Miracles is warm, loving and a joy of discovery. 

In order for art to engage with ideas around gender and sexuality they must be clear and central to the work. The male/female binary has and will always exist, but what can change is how we express it without collapsing into a gender-neutral heap on the floor. 

Now showing

National Art School Gallery, Darlinghurst

3 May – 1 June 2013