contextual research

Paul Klee at Tate Modern: Making Visible 2013/2014


Paul Klee 1921
No other artist of the twentieth century made marks, lines and doodles sing with quite the same melody as Paul Klee. As a result, you’ll spend ages peering at and poring over the witty, joyful masterpieces in this career-spanning retrospective of the Swiss-German artist, watching Klee’s ideas spring to life on canvas and on tiny sheets of paper that become flickering constellations. It's hard to imagine now that his intricate, fantastical art was regarded as 'degenerate' by the Nazis in the early1930s. At that time, Klee was teaching at the Düsseldorf Academy. When he returned to his native Bern in Switzerland in 1933, his work became darker in tone, reflecting the deteriorating political situation and his severe illness – diagnosed as scleroderma in 1936.
Blue Night 1937

The Tate's exhibition challenges Klee’s reputation as a whimsical dreamer – famous for describing drawing as being like 'taking a line for a walk – drawing attention to the rigour with which he recorded and catalogued his work throughout his career. We can’t time-travel to enter Klee’s studio and see how his works progressed but, in offering up paintings made in sequence, Tate Modern’s show gives us the next best thing. Moving through the exhibition is like seeing a series of snapshots of Klee’s working life. You’ll discover how paintings developed in tandem or relay, like the Tate’s famous watercolour ‘They’re Biting’, which is flanked by three works that precede it and one that follows. Or how they may have been revisited and reworked over time, like ‘Akt (Nude)’, which Klee started in 1910 but didn’t finish until 1924.
Tate’s reappraisal sheds light on dualities in Klee’s character. He was a talented musician (he played the violin, often to make ends meet) as well as an artist. He was also ambidextrous, painting and drawing with one hand while writing with the other. This stunning show also reveals that, while there are elements of cubism, surrealism and pointillism in his work, he was, above all, an individualist. It leaves you with a sense of creative, personal enquiry about the world that is uplifting and truly inspiring.

 Static Dynamic Intensification

Paul Klee at Tate Modern: curator interview(Matthew Gale) from Tate Modern



Paul Klee is forever associated with his famously quirky description of drawing as ‘taking a line for a walk’. The stories about the Swiss-German artist that have stuck since his death in 1940 are similar eccentric. There’s the tale of his first day of teaching at the Bauhaus in 1921, when Klee, then aged 41 and already well-known in Europe, is said to have backed through the door of the classroom, avoiding eye contact with his students, drawn two arcs on the blackboard and declared: ‘This is the fish of Columbus!'


Another anecdote from around 1930 – by the American art collector Edward MM Warburg – places Klee in his Dessau studio. When the artist’s beloved cat Bimbo ambles across the still-wet watercolours they are admiring, Warburg tries to shoo it away. Klee, however, just laughs and says: ‘Many years from now, one of your art connoisseurs will wonder how in the world I ever got that effect.’
Steps 1929


These accounts are of a piece with Klee’s endlessly innovative and apparently effortless paintings and works on paper, with their flowing lines, glowing patchworks of colour and whimsical depictions of animal, plant and sea life.


‘Klee’s work is always about what it means to be in the world, how to process it,’ says Matthew Gale, curator of the first Klee exhibition in London for more than a decade. Yet, behind the freewheeling genius there was another, altogether more obsessive side to this modern master. Throughout his career, Klee used a variety of numbering systems – made up of the year, month and day – as a way of documenting his prodigious output. His apparently spontaneous creativity, which led to a total of 9,000 works being produced during his lifetime, was always held in check by this analytical approach to numbering his work. It was his way of revisiting what he had made, making sense of quickfire artistic impulse.



Featuring around 200 paintings, Tate Modern’s new show foregrounds this characteristic, using it to delve deep into Klee’s creative processes. ‘The way in which the exhibition is structured derives from Klee’s own numbering system, which he started in 1911,’ explains Gale. ‘The purpose is to show the incredible diversity of his production.’



Comedy 1921



Museum exhibitions are great at presenting us with end results – those polished, cherished icons of art history. They’re often less adept at revealing how those results came into being. We can’t time-travel to enter Klee’s studio and see how his works progressed but – in offering up paintings made in sequence – Tate Modern’s show gives us the next best thing. Moving through the exhibition is like seeing a series of snapshots of Klee’s working life. You’ll discover how paintings developed in tandem or relay, like the Tate’s famous watercolour ‘They’re Biting’ (1920), which is flanked by works that precede and follow it.


Tate’s reappraisal sheds light on dualities in Klee’s character. He was a talented musician (he played the violin, often to make ends meet) as well as an artist. He was ambidextrous, painting and drawing with his left hand while writing (and signing the work) with his right. ‘I think cataloguing the work allows him to have a structure,’ explains Gale. ‘This clear, orderly side to him means he can open the door of his studio and range freely as his imagination allows him.’


If Klee is underappreciated in Britain, Gale puts it in part down to fashion: ‘We’ve passed through a sort of dip in his reputation and I hope that we’re going to inspire a new generation to look at Klee in a different way.’ It may also be due to the juggernaut of art history. While Picasso will forever be linked with cubism, Matisse fauvism and Seurat pointillism, Klee’s fame may have suffered from a lack of ties to any particular art movement. ‘“Isms” aren’t everything,’ says Gale. ‘I think the fact that Klee isn’t associated with an “ism” can make him difficult to categorise, but I think that is probably also the strong point in his legacy – that he provides an example of an incredibly rich creativity that’s not pigeonholed.
 Full Moon 1933


Klee was certainly celebrated in his lifetime, with a solo exhibition at the Nationalgalerie in Berlin in 1921 and a retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art, New York, in 1930. During the final decade of his life, Picasso and Wassily Kandinsky came to pay tribute to the master in Bern, Switzerland, where Klee took refuge after his work was deemed ‘degenerate’ by the Nazis and he was dismissed from his teaching position in Düsseldorf.


By this time he had been diagnosed with scleroderma, a debilitating hardening of the skin. Klee’s numbering of his work didn’t stop but his production became erratic. In 1936,  he produced just 25 works, while in 1939 he made more than 1,000 paintings and drawings that ‘fell like leaves’ around him. The last work he numbered in 1940, a leap year, is 366. ‘There seems something very symbolic about stopping with that number as if he feels he’s completed that year’s work,’ says Gale. ‘He clearly knew he was dying.’



While this casts a shadow over Klee’s later works, many of his final paintings are defiantly upbeat, like the joyously rhythmic ‘Twilight Flowers’ (1940). It’s this sense of playful enquiry about the world which Gale hopes visitors will take away with them. ‘I think you’ll get a sense of the amazingly productive journey he goes on, and go away inspired to make work yourself, in whatever realm. Klee wrote, as well as playing the violin and painting, making his own brushes and puppets for his son. His is not an exclusive sort of creativity but one that encourages you to explore that creative part of your life.’ Who knows, maybe you’ll even get the cat to take a line for a walk too.

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Fourth Plinth Commission 2014


Exhibition of Proposals for the Fourth Plinth, Trafalgar Square, London, to be exhibited 2014


St Martin-in-the-Fields 25th September to 17th November 2013   







Marcus Coates has proposed to place a large replica of ‘The Eagle’, a rocky outcrop situated in Brimham Rocks, Yorkshire on the plinth; Trafalgar Square is almost entirely fashioned from stone, sourced from all over Britain and manipulated into buildings, pillars and statues by the will of architects, designers and sculptors. Marcus Coates plans to contrast these symbols of rational progress with a huge replica of a gritstone outcrop created hundreds of millions of years ago in Yorkshire by the natural forces of ice, wind and rain. Its form suggests a face or a bird, as we automatically try to make sense of the organic shapes that emerge and retreat as we walk around it, and invest it with human qualities or mythical powers. It would be a monument to non-human creativity and a totem of timeless, irrepressible powers.

Coates makes videos, performances and installations that are in turn sublime and humorous, asking audiences and participants to explore their imaginations in ways they might not ordinarily. Communing with animal and bird spirits, emulating their movements or transmitting their calls and cries, the artist attempts to answer questions on how we can live in urban societies. His observations might strike a chord with his audiences through metaphor, or through the sheer desire to make sense of a disordered universe.




David Shigley’s design, Really Good, is a 10-metre-high thumbs-up, cast in the same dark patina as the other statues in the square; A giant hand in a thumbs-up gesture, and with a really long thumb at that, must mean that something, somewhere, is really good. But what is that something and where is it? Is it Trafalgar Square? Or all of London? Or maybe the artwork itself? And if it’s so good, why is that? Who says so? And will we agree?

Really Good would be cast in bronze with the same dark patina as the other statues in the Square, the comic extension of the thumb bringing it up to ten metres in height. Shrigley’s ambition is that this will become a self-fulfilling prophecy; that things considered ‘bad’, such as the economy, the weather and society, will benefit from a change of consensus towards positivity.

Shrigley’s daily tirade of satirical vignettes takes the British tradition of satire into three and four dimensions. In his drawings and animations protagonists express their dark impulses and are subject to the violence and irrationality of life, while his sculptures are often jokes in 3D form, reflecting the absurdity of contemporary society.




Hans Haacke has created a skeletal, riderless horse that will display the live ticker of the London Stock Exchange on an electric ribbon tied to its leg; Instead of the statue of William III astride a horse, as originally planned for the empty plinth, Hans Haacke proposes a skeleton of a riderless, strutting horse. Tied to the horse’s front leg is an electronic ribbon which displays live the ticker of the London Stock Exchange. The horse is derived from an etching by George Stubbs, whose studies of equine anatomy were published the year after the birth of the reputedly decadent king, whose statue was abandoned due to a lack of funds. Haacke’s proposal makes visible a number of ordinarily hidden substructures, tied up with a bow as if a gift to all.

Haacke’s early work employed physical and organic processes, such as condensation, in what he called ‘systems’, until his focus shifted to the socio-political field of equally interdependent dynamics. For the last four decades Haacke has been examining relationships between art, power and money, and has addressed issues of free expression and civic responsibilities in democratic societies. Haacke’s practice is difficult to categorise, moving from object to image to text, from painting to photography, at times of a provocative nature.




Liliane Lijn’s proposal shows two identical kinetic cones made of brushed anodised aluminium engaged in a mesmerising dance; Rather than one imposing sculptural object, Liliane Lijn’s proposal The Dance features the complex changing relation between two apparently identical objects. The cone is a ubiquitous abstract form that occurs in mathematical, mythical and astronomical systems. Here the cones also relate to the spire of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, while their gleaming metallic surfaces recall the machinery of space travel.  Once The Dance begins, formal geometry gives way to sensual movement and we become mesmerised by the energy of the interaction.

The shifting shapes and interactions of The Dance are an extension of Lijn’s interest in combining energy and matter, language and light. Her small and large-scale kinetic installations often use technologies such as laser cutting, programmable electronics and aerogel, a material used by NASA to capture stardust. Lijn’s Poemcons and Poem Machines, rotating cones and drums bearing evocative words and phrases, offer tantalising fragments of meaning and insight, while ultimately falling apart in the mind.




Ugo Rondinone’s Moon Mask is an aluminium, abstract sentinel facing out over the square; Ugo Rondinone’s MOON MASK, modelled expressively by hand, enlarged, cast in aluminium, and fixed to a pole, would be an abstract sentinel facing out over the square. MOON MASK seemingly refers to many visual traditions – perhaps the folk art of an ancient clan or early 20th century Cubism, which was itself influenced by African tribal masks – and yet it makes no specific claims for its origin. The eventual work would inspire free association, its three window-like apertures suggesting portals through which cultural references and individual emotions can tumble at will.

Rondinone’s preoccupation with time - at the cosmic scale as well as that of art history and everyday experience - often finds form in abstract imagery intended to connect the sublime with the everyday. His optically shimmering mandala paintings, for example, re-use the geometric Buddhist symbol for eternity. Elsewhere figures made from stacked, roughly hewn cubes of rock seem to express an ancient sense of awe in the face of nature, while also offering a range of contemporary readings from the psychological to the comical.




Mark Leckey has designed a creature made of amalgamated elements of the permanent statues in Trafalgar Square, including details from the statues of James II, Admiral Jellicoe, the water fountain, and the Fourth Plinth itself.  Mark Leckey has riffed on elements traditionally found carved in marble or cast in bronze, including scrolls, coats of arms and a sword in its scabbard for Larger Squat Afar (an anagram of Trafalgar Square). 
“I believe the proposal reflects how we now approach the world in the 21st century. Because of current technology, objects and artefacts are no longer these fixed, permanent things. Instead we look at any sculpture, object or image and ask, what can I do with that? How can I change it to suit my desires?”

Larger Squat Afar is an anagram of ‘Trafalgar Square’, and Mark Leckey’s chimera is itself an amalgam of elements lifted from all the statues found in the square. Details of James II, the water fountain, Admiral Jellicoe and the plinth itself are enmeshed into a single figure, which, while appearing absurd illustrates the compound history of both people and place. Fabricated using 3D laser scanning and printing technology, Larger Squat Afar embodies the power of the digital to overcome the physical and to fulfill the more monstrous capacities of the human imagination.

Leckey frequently looks to the mediated nature of public and private environments, in which imagery is employed to transcend the mundane. Collage and animation techniques are used in videos and sculptures, where the hidden is made explicit, desires are expressed and obscure personal narratives are revealed. It is digital platforms, above all else, that signal the contemporary for Leckey, where even the inanimate object can appear to communicate to us at will.





ARTIST BIOGRAPHIES



Marcus Coates

Born 1968 in London. Lives and works in London.

Marcus Coates makes videos, performances and installations that attempt to answer questions about how we live in urban societies. He has had recent solo exhibitions at South Alberta Gallery, Canada (2012); and Milton Keynes Gallery (2010). Recent public art projects include Create London (2013) and Vision Quest: a ritual for Elephant & Castle (2012). Coates has also performed at Port Eliot Festival, Cornwall; Mori Art Museum, Tokyo; Kunsthalle Zurich; Barbican Art Gallery, London; and Hayward Gallery, London.



Hans Haacke

Born 1936 in Cologne. Lives and works in New York.

For the last four decades Hans Haacke has been examining the relationships between art, power and money, and has addressed issues of free expression and civic responsibilities in democratic societies in his work. He works in many different mediums including painting, photography and written text. He has had recent solo exhibitions at Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía, Madrid (2012); MIT List Visual Arts Centre, Cambridge, MA (2011); X-Initiative, New York (2009); and Akademie der Künste, Berlin (2006). Haacke’s work has been included in four Documentas and numerous biennials around the world. He shared a Golden Lion Award with Nam June Paik for the best pavilion at the 45th Venice Biennale (1993), and in 2000 he unveiled a permanent installation in the Reichstag, Berlin.



Mark Leckey

Born 1964 in Birkenhead. Lives and works in London.

Mark Leckey’s work explores the mediated nature of public and private environments, often working collage and animation techniques into his video and sculptural work. He has had recent solo exhibitions at The Hammer museum, Los Angeles (2013); Banff Centre, Alberta (2012); Serpentine Gallery, London (2011); Abrons Art Centre, New York (2009); and Kölnischer Kunstverein, Cologne (2008). Leckey curated the Hayward Touring show ‘The universal addressability of dumb things’ (2013) and was awarded the Turner Prize in 2008.



Liliane Lijn

Born 1939 in New York. Lives and works in London.

Internationally exhibited since the 1960s, with works in numerous collections including Tate, the British Museum, and the V&A, and FNAC, Paris, Lijn is best known for her kinetic sculptures and her work with language and light. Recent exhibitions include Light Years at Sir John Soane’s Museum, London (2011); Gallery One, New Visions Centre, Signals, Indica at Tate Britain, London (2012); Ecstatic Alphabets/Heaps of Language at MoMA, New York (2012); and Cosmic Dramas, mima, Middlesborough. Recent public commissions include Solar Beacon, a sci-art installation of heliostats on the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge; and Light Pyramid, a beacon for the Queen’s Jubilee, which was commissioned by Park Trust and MK Gallery, Milton Keynes.



David Shrigley

Born 1968 in Macclesfield. Lives and works in Glasgow.

David Shrigley’s work draws on the British tradition of satire, creating drawings, animations and sculptures that reflect the absurdity of contemporary society. He has had recent solo exhibitions at Bradford 1 Gallery (2013); Cornerhouse Gallery (2012), Hayward Gallery, London (2012); Yerba Beuna Centre for the Arts, San Francisco (2012); and Kelvingrove Museum, Glasgow (2010). Shrigley’s Sort of Opera: Pass the Spoon was performed at Tramway, Glasgow, and Southbank Centre, London (2011 – 12), and he has been nominated for the Turner Prize 2013. 



Ugo Rondinone 

Born 1964 in Brunnen, Switzerland. Lives and works in New York.

Ugo Rondinone is a mixed-media artist whose work explores themes of fantasy and desire. He has had recent solo exhibitions at M Museum, Leuven (2013); Art Institute of Chicago (2013); Common Guild, Glasgow (2012); Museum of Cycladic Art, Athens (2012); and Aargauer Kunsthaus, Aarau (2010). Rondinone has created public commissions for the Rockefeller Plaza, New York; the IMB Building, New York; and Louis Vuitton, Munich. He represented Switzerland in the 52nd Venice Biennale (2007).

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Is All art Religious?  Is all Religion Art?

God is Dead
Signs in Peckham
Christopher Clack
2011

Art as a Facilitator of Society. 

Is all Art Religious?  Is all Religion Art?

These two over-simplified questions are not reversals of one another.
 In the first question the term Art refers to not just those creative expressions of a society in which all basic needs are met and there is time for recreation and self-expression, but to the practices which have been associated by a structured society to basic needs as well, such as the astrological agricultural practices of the Ancient Egyptians.  This requires a suitably developed social structure which has had time to contemplate non-material explanations for material or natural phenomena.  Art in the first question might also encompass methods which today are regarded as occupying a field completely separate to Art, for example mathematical models of the universe or alpha-numerical sequences of purported significance, the most common, useful and contemporaneous of these, I propose to be the study of Fractals, mathematical sets whereby patterns are the same at every scale or nearly the same at different scales, vaguely comparable to infinite regression.

To be Religious, as the first question is phrased, does not require that something is part of a formal structure or a recognised Religion.  The term encompasses a variety of spiritual, ritualistic and pseudo-scientific phenomena which have parallels across many societies, such as astronomy, idol worship and deification.  Symbolism is a common theme in Art and Religion.

In the second question, Art is a similar concept, but whereas some Art is obviously apparent as itself, the paintings and mosaics of churches around the globe for example, the term encompasses the written and spoken word, the staging of events as managed theatrics, music and decorative visual arts.  In this second question Religion does refer to formal structured religions. 
It requires that all human beings have similar cognitive processes and respond in predictable ways.  Neurotheology (a term from Huxley’s novel Island) is the study of the brain and Religion, and the search for the God Spot.  Responses to Religious stimuli are monitored, but as the extent of any spiritual experience is entirely subjective and so the studies are no more in depth than showing correlations.  There has been research into an evolutionary history for religion.  Nicolas Wade, a British science writer for the New York Times wrote, 

“Like most behaviours that are found in societies throughout the world, religion must have been present in the ancestral human population before the dispersal from Africa 50,000 years ago. Although religious rituals usually involve dance and music, they are also very verbal, since the sacred truths have to be stated. If so, religion, at least in its modern form, cannot pre-date the emergence of language. It has been argued earlier that language attained its modern state shortly before the exodus from Africa. If religion had to await the evolution of modern, articulate language, then it too would have emerged shortly before 50,000 years ago.” (N. Wade. Before the Dawn. Penguin Books 2006 .p.8 p.165)

It may be that religion conferred an evolutionary advantage on those who followed it and it may therefore have been naturally selected for.  Advantages of religion may include social cohesion and thus the elaborate and expensive (in terms of time, money, danger etc.) individual religious practices and ceremonies show the extent of an individual’s commitment to a group (Sosis, R.; Kress, H. C.; Boster, J. S. (2007). "Scars for war: evaluating alternative signalling explanations for cross-cultural variance in ritual costs". Evolution and Human Behavior 28 (4): 234–247).

It is impossible to argue that Art is cheap.  One need only to wander into a moderate village Church in the U.K. and if it was constructed before The Reformation (the actions of Martin Luther in 1517 are seen as the starting point in this) then it will have been constructed from and decorated with expensive and elaborate materials.  There are famous examples around the globe of elaborate sacred sites.

There is, once we acknowledge the historical significance of Religion even if it is not as evident today, a lot of power tied up with, not only the physical wealth of, but also the administration of Religion.  In England the Bible was not published in the language of the population until, at the earliest, the tenth century, but it was not translated into Modern English until the early sixteenth century when John Tyndale produced his widely distributed version.  This was also the first press-printed Bible. Thus the work of translating the most important theological ideas to the masses was in the power of an Elite.  The use of visual representations of interpreted scriptural messages was commonplace and thus Art was the language of Religion.  It is easy to believe that those holding such sway over the masses would not wish to relinquish it but to reinforce it through elaborate and mysterious ceremonies and so an understanding of stage craft would be beneficial.

Today, in the UK, we inhabit an increasingly Secular society and yet our brains are no different from those of our forebears.  Religion may be distant from our lives but Art is almost inseparable from it.  Unless we live in the most remote Crofting community, I would suggest that daily life is awash with music, design, architecture, photography and film.  It may be that sculpture and mass produced pictorial Art is not everywhere but it is not hard to find and fine examples of original works, such as paintings and sculpture have to be sought out by an individual but there is designated government funding to make these works available to the public.

If Art is not required as a religious tool anymore and, in general, the population is turning away from Religion, then why should Art retain any importance to us?  Is it a way to access the same basic emotions associated with the human condition and the universal practical issues of living in a society?  As we academically turn towards scientific explanations for material phenomena, we cannot accept the teachings of Formal Religion, but we retain a need for what it provided us with.

  Art was a facilitator for this in the past exactly as it is now. 

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The Reith Lectures 2013
Playing to the Gallery by Grayson Perry.

I have been following the career of Grayson Perry since the very moment I saw him on television in the early nineties.  I was a schoolgirl, attending a convent school in a Cheshire village and contemporary art was not part of my life.
I saw Grayson Perry, as Claire, accepting the Turner Prize (of which I had never heard) and a different side of what might be sensible appeared to me.  It wasn't a conscious decision to follow Mr Perry and it is only in recent years that I have gone out of my way to seek out his work, his exhibitions, but whenever he was mentioned I was interested.
He is a fascinating man.  He has the confident authority of most successful artists, but he always seems to be lacking the arrogance of many of his peers.  He might be odd, he might be married to his psychoanalyst, he might be many things, but I believe that he is a fascinating and humorous man ans I was was delighted when I heard he would be giving this year's series of Reith Lectures.


The following is not a transcript of the lectures but a summary of what I gain from listening to them.

1. Democracy has bad taste.

Grayson Perry inhabits the Art World.  As an artist and  lecturer and commentator on contemporary arts, he does not consider himself an expert but must indeed be a close approximation.
As an insider of the this rarefied world and in giving these lectures he tries to encourage people to engage with physical places where art is to be to found and to be comfortable.
Speaking primarily with regard to the visual arts, Grayson Perry considers museums, commercial galleries and the more introspective, historical artist-dealer-collector relationship.  He dissects the 5.3million visitors per annum to the Tate Modern, one of the U.K.s most popular tourist destinations.  These visitors have been split into categories, some of whom, Grayson argues, would be impossible to keep away and these include the 'Urban Arts Eclectic' and the 'Mature Explorers', but he addresses himself to the 36% of visitors categorised as 'Dinner and a Show' or 'Fun, Fashion and Friends'.
During the discourse, Insider, Mr Perry, recognises the intimidating nature of the gallery environment and tries to address this by providing the imagined visitor with a methodology of approaching the art to which they will be exposed and how to judge it on an alien scale of merit.

The issues of judging art and of  deciding upon its quality are addressed as one and the same things, in most respects.  For example the popularity of a piece of art does not mean it is of quality but an historically significant piece or one of aesthetic sophistication may become very popular and therefore valuable and will inevitably be of quality.
As humans looking at art we will all have many similar responses and many of these can be cultural.  Several Russian artists surveyed the preferences of the public, across several countries, as regards contemporary art and discovered that most people prefer the colour blue.  This is of course of no help to anyone but it is interesting nevertheless.

There is a language which surrounds the discussion of art which may be alienating to the general public and also unhelpful to artists themselves. An analysis of the website of art gallery press releases E Flux showed it contained very few nouns; Art English.  This is a In the hundred years leading up to the 1970s, Grayson Perry argued, art became very self-conscious.  This could prove debilitating to artists and being such a subjective problem it has led to the search for an empirical way to prove Quality in art (such as The Venetian Secret Hoax).

Clement Greenberg stated that art is always tied to money, as a luxury item this is hard to dispute.  The more expensive a work of art, the more renowned it becomes and therefore the more influential.  Strangely, Perry notes, that in the gallery situation, pieces are often priced according to their size, although this factor is removed by the time the work reaches the secondary market.

So, if the value of a work of art is an unreliable indicator of its quality, what remains?
Here Perry raises the important issue of Validation.  As a scientific paper undergoes peer review before journal publication, so a work of art is first validated by peer review before being placed in a gallery.  The status of this gallery is of great importance and is enhanced by Validation from serious critics and then collectors and dealers, dealers themselves being one of the important factors in this process as their reputation dictates the placing of the work for sale and the likelihood of it being picked up by a serious collector, thus adding kudos to the work of the artist.
Finally the public have the chance to Validate the work.  Numbers of visitors to a show are measurable and an important source of information available to curators, perhaps one of the single most important.  Gallery and museum curators decide what goes onto display to the general public and this over time should help to stabilise the prices for an artist, thus giving collectors more confidence in their investments.  With humour, Perry notes that bank vaults are stuffed with Silver, Wine, Art and Gold (S.W.A.G.).

To finish this study of quality and validation, Grayson Perry, notes that Political Art is largely outside of this process.  If the message is agreed with by enough people, they will enjoy the message of the art.  It is interesting to consider how many artists keep their political and artistic endeavours entirely separate.  He ends this first lecture with a quote from Alan Bennett "you don't have to like it all".
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Frieze Art Fair London 2013

Although completely overwhelming, the enormous tent that is Frieze contains many wonders of the world.  Somethings stop you in your tracks by virtue of surprise, amazement or bewilderment.  My personal low point consisted of four people standing beneath a black sheet; they had head holes but I spent more time contemplating my very reasonably priced sandwich (it's the drinks that hammer one's pocket).  My high point was a series of miniature sculptures made of cardboard and plastic.  Other people will have very different opinions and that is the joy of the sheer vastness and variety that is Frieze.  Also, Frieze cannot be done in a day and I was there for around four hours so I can only present very edited highlights.

Sou Fujimoto, a Japanese architect (born 1971) designed the temporary Serpentine gallery Pavilion in London.  His miniature models of architectural space were fascinating, drawing the viewer in close and having an almost weightless quality.


An amazing explosion of colour and skill was demonstrated by an artist selected by the Tina Kim Gallery, New York.  This eye catching North Korean hand embroidery on silk by KyungA Ham (b. 1971) had many passers by stop.
Entitled Greed is Good, the pattern was so dynamic that it took a closer inspection to believe it was a hand embroidery.

The Egyptian born artist, Wael Shawky (b.1971) and represented by the Sfeir-Semler Gallery of Hamburg and Beirut, is mostly known for his videos of mythical journeys, featuring some animation and puppetry.  Two of the marionettes from his Cabaret Crusades to Cairo were displayed.  Made of ceramic, wood and paint, the two characters were very charismatic and, in their glass cabinet, invoked the activity of their journey.

The Johan Berggren Gallery displayed the "creative debris" of artist Ryan Siegan-Smith (b. 1982) who has worked under various names, including Leeroy the Duck and Allen Mothchart.  He works by accumulating visual aide-memoirs  in order to recall number sequences using mnemonic techniques.  Although the numerical sequence itself seems somewhat irrelevant, it is the celebration of the techniques of the type of mind which wants to learn such sequences wherein lies the interest.  There is no way of discerning which visual clues relate to which numbers, but the very fact that they have working significance to an individual encourages contemplation.
Johanna Calle (b. 1965) selected by Casas Riegner produces works based on her native Colombia and the fragility of the environments.  The series Conflicted Land is composed of pictures of trees native to Colombia, the photos being cut out from aerial photos which are taken to police the growth and illegal felling of these precious resources.  The images are simple and engaging but it is not too far a stretch to relate to the social and political issues she tries to emphasise.
Working in film and photography, one of the most arresting displays was that of Marcus Coates (b.1968), selected by Kate MacGarry.  His very high resolution prints onto rice paper of animals were superb.  What raised then above the standard of fascinating photography or animal portraiture was the way in which they had been made three dimensional.  Not only was there a fantastic depth to the photos and the colours themselves, but the paper had been creased and crinkled into sculptural forms which emphasised the shape of the subject matter.  Thus a photo of an ostrich became a 3D sculpture of a picture of an ostrich, an effect which continued whilst looking down the side of the print.
Korean artist Yeesookyung (b. 1963) has many varied pieces in the Saatchi Gallery all following the theme of the Translated Vase.  By using broken ceramics and reassembling them into a completely different form, she draws on the Japanese tradition of 'fixing' broken ceramics, using precious metals, so that the vessel is not only made stronger but so that the repair becomes part of the history of the vessel.  I didn't find that Yeesookyung quite achieved this resonance.  The parts of the vessel were too obviously broken to create a matching set (colour, design, size) and they were cemented together, the join then being over-painted by 24kt gold.  This was imprecisely done and highlighted to me the gulf between Yeesookyung's work and the fine craftsmanship of the traditional inspiration.
 
The work of Elaine Sturtevant (b. 1930), selected by Gavin Brown's enterprise, was interesting as it was unlike anything else I encountered.  It was understated and simple and did not seem to be 'trying'.  The basis of Sturtevant's work is repetition but subtle changes she applies to her work mean each piece is unrepeatable, for example, her hand-pulled black and white photography.
Li Songsong (b. 1973) selected by Pace, has a fascinating collage, multi-canvas style.  It invites inquiry.  It is a whole made of harmonious and yet overlapping components.  The colours are wrong, the style is coarse and there is an element of the random thrown in, but the whole resolves into an almost photographic image.  When he paints a person, the result is portrait like, even if each thickly painted canvas is difficult to resolve.
There were some standard favorites represented at Frieze, including Damien Hirst and Takashi Murakami, which were great fun to see, although already familiar and recognisable at twenty paces.  New to me was the work of Tony Cragg (b. 1949) the 1988 Turner Prize winner.  I was enchanted by his sandstone-esque sculpture, made from metal and seemingly beyond scale.  He is an artist I will enjoy investigating further.
Tony Cragg

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Sir Anthony Caro

One of the 20th century's most influential British sculptors has died of a heart attack as he approached his ninetieth birthday.
Likened by many to Henry Moore, a generation before him, for his worldwide influence, Caro first came to the art world's attention in 1963 at the Whitechapel Gallery  His 1963 sculpture Early One Morning was an abstract, brightly coloured sculpture which showed Caro's background in engineering and put forward a new movement in how sculpture was presented.
Sir Anthony Caro was the recipient of many prizes, including the Lifetime Achievement Award in sculpture. He was knighted and given the Order of Merit and was the subject of a 2005 Tate Britain Retrospective.
Interestingly, he was also one third of the design team behind London's Millennium Bridge.
Paper Wink (1999/2002)
handmade paper, aluminum and wood
Anthony Caro

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Drawing.

Journey.

Before photography, drawing and painting were the only means of recording a scene or an image accurately.  For this purpose drawing can be extrapolated to include the processes leading up to the production of prints in earlier times.
Now, with the benefit of the photographic discipline, drawing has expanded its application.
It is still of the utmost importance to have a grasp of the fundamentals of good drawing practice, through life drawing and still-life, as this skill underpins much of the creative processes of sculpture and design; however, drawing can be free from the constraints of gravity and so has, some could argue, a more liberated approach to creativity.  It also informs the artist as to what they are distorting from reality as it is an education in perspective and correct proportion.
Selected Life Drawings by Kathryn Moores. Charcoal and paper 2013.

The concept of Journey as a drawing project is very broad.
The artist Mark Bauer (1975) uses the traditional black and white look of photography to record his journeys to different places, for example, a Sanatorium.
HB Sanatorium Kreuzlingen Schloss Bellevue 1988 Mark Bauer
pencil and paper
I cannot view the destination of a journey as being the same as a journey; this being a necessity for any human wishing to visit anywhere.  In the past I have traveled with an unusual companion, a toy of my daughter's, in order that she might feel connected to my having traveled.  These inanimate teddy bears took on a superb preciousness whilst traveling, such was my concern at losing them, and their appearance in souvenir photographs lend a particular sense of the personal to otherwise generic scenes.

Patch the Teddy in the Florian Coffee Shop, St Mark's Square, Venice.  April 2013.
Kathryn Moores


Green Bear on the Isle of Wight Ferry for Cowes week 2013
Kathryn Moores

Another way of approaching this concept of taking items for a journey is in the most basic; what do we normally take on a journey but our suitcase?  The personal items are contained within the suitcase (unless they are as precious as the above and must be kept in hand luggage all the time).
Komi Tanaka took a suitcase on a journey to Rome and photographed the suitcase in various locales.  These pictures, referenced to a tourist map, and displayed alongside the adventurous suitcase, formed an installation at Frieze 2013.
 Komi Tanaka  We Found Something When We Lost Other Things 2012 unannounced action
The return address on the suitcase as it was left on corners in Rome was always the gallery where Komi Tanaka was exhibiting, hence it was also advertising for his show and a commercial endeavour. I would have been interested in the record of interactions of the public with this 'abandoned' suitcase in these days of terror alerts and fears of abandoned bags.  This is why I prefer to travel with a teddy bear.

Drawing can always, an this is the most important factor besides recording things for posterity, enter the realms of the unreal.  The abstract, the multi-coloured, the distorted; all of these are the everyday of contemporary drawing.  Colour is the main feature in the works of Chadwick Rantanen (American 1981), for example, whether he is working in sculpture, installation or drawing.
Multicoloured drawing by Chadwick Rantanen above carbon fibre Loop.  Frieze 2013.

Drawings from the imagination appeal to my aesthetic as  photo quality reproductions of a scene seem to be outdated.
An imagined journey, with similarities to the disbelieved journey of the Venetian Marco Polo (1254 - 1324) who introduced the Europeans to the cultures of Asia and China and was widely discredited as preposterous, seems a likely drawing project.  Even today, with his inclusion of some facts (paper money) and the omission of others (Chinese foot binding practice) there is no consensus as to whether Polo ventured on his journey or simply compiled his narrative from hearsay.
The act of traveling on a journey gives a sense of movement which might be interestingly caught by the discipline of drawing.  The blurred exterior passing by the high speed train carriage window, where the train is given a sense of immobility and all motion is external.  The characters in the carriage also become important, absorbed in their own journeys and making it a solitary and yet communal undertaking. . 





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