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Tuesday, 30 November 2010

a thirst for knowledge

I love to learn. Personally i find that there a few better feelings than acquiring a new skill or bit of knowledge. It really is quite remarkable that in the space of a few hours you can go from not being able to do something to finding yourself in quite the opposite position. There are obvious practical benefits to such a process but the positive affect on your state of mind can be just as important. 

For example, below is short film i put together this week. I say film, it is more of a glorified slideshow really. But even so it marked my introduction to the world of online video sharing (a process made all the more easier by the beautifully designed vimeo). It undoubtedly took me 10x longer than the average 9 year old to work out how to do this but nevertheless it was a distinctly satisfying experience. The results are below. 


As a footnote to this celebration of learning it is worth briefly mentioning this projects significance in terms of my own work. The subject itself is probably not something i am going to pursue but it was very interesting in terms of deciding what shape a project takes (a recurring theme of late). For example this project has a high level of transience. The water gets bigger, smaller and is a constant state of flux. Ift is the transient nature of the work that i want to emphasise. So this piece need to be shown in a way that helps articulate the nature of the work. The internet video then is quite a suitable way to show it. Usually viewed fleetingly and not existing in any physical form it is in itself a platform in flux. Another suitable way to show this would be a projection as again the light occupies a tenuous physical position. 

Saturday, 27 November 2010

4 types of chalk


Amidst all this writing and drafting (and writing and drafting) i have been trying to keep up the practical side of things. So most weeks i have tried to do small, instinctive type projects just to try and get a feel for what i will do for my last project at University. The most recent of these has tentatively been titled 4 types of chalk. 


The project was pretty simple. I went to a nearby chalk cliff face armed with a pack of coloured chalk. Then just below the chalk line, on a man made wall, i drew a simple chalk line. I photographed the results and that was the project done.

I was left with a lot of photographs. They showed all stages of the process and from a number of angles.





The basic problem i had was what to do with all these images. So i spent some time looking through them and the more i looked the clearer it became that most of were not really that interesting. There was no need to have a repetitious cycle of chalk lines and the nature of the intervention could easily be conveyed with a single image. It is this image on the right that i felt was one of the most successful. There is a subtle link between the natural setting and my own intervention. Also the lack of colour not only gives the image a simple feel but also helps establish this link between the cliff face and line. The coloured chalk is clearly brought in to this place but the white chalk could plausibly have come from the cliff itself. As such it creates a dialogue with the site and becomes more about that specific location.  So we end with a single image. It was a bit hard to let go of all the images i had taken and also accept that the project was going to be different to how i had originally envisaged it. But it was an important process to go through and ultimately the work is more interesting as a result.      









Wednesday, 17 November 2010

getting dissed

Over the last few weeks i have led something of a sheltered existence. My life has revolved around my laptop and getting into dissertation writing mode. Now while this has been punctuated with trips to work, and occasionally the corner shop, the majority of the time i have for school work has been spent typing.

While such a secluded lifestyle is certainly not healthy the writing process has been more or less enjoyable. Certainly there have been days where is has felt like there was no point turning on the laptop. When you've written for 5 hours and got about 200 words, that you know will have to be done again, your heart does tend to sink. But luckily those days have been in the minority and overall steady progress has been made. Until the last few days or so when things started to get tough.

The obstacle that presented itself before me was this enigmatic proposition: how does a photograph work? Not in the technical sense but in the what sort of relationship do we have with the image and how do engage with it sense. Complicated stuff by all accounts. To try and simplify things and get my thoughts straight i made a diagram:


The first thing that i assumed was that the photograph is not an objective document. Regardless of whether we are taking the photograph or looking at one we always bring something to the process. So on the diagram we have the first layer of 'conceptualisation'. This may represent an extensive period of planning with lots of research and careful consideration. Or it could simply be choosing to shoot portrait instead of landscape just before taking the shot. Either way these decisions affect the final image and are one way the author can make known their presence. 

'Photograph' seems simple enough - you take the photo.

'Event gets pointed to' is not so simple however. It relates to Thierry de Duve's essay Time Exposure and Snapshot: the photograph as paradox. In this essay De Duve describes how the photograph will only ever 'point' to an event. It will not make statements about it or literally recreate it for us. Rather all we get from the image is the vague declaration: 'look at this'. 

Once the event has been pointed to the context in which it is displayed further informs the viewing process hence the  'layer of fabrication/more conceptualisation'. This is a space where the photograph is presented to us and this can be manipulated to privilege certain readings. For example the same photograph displayed in the gallery would be seen quite differently to the one in the newspaper. This part of the process can be controlled and planned for in advance so we have an arrow going back to start. Equally the final context can affect what we photograph and how. So we have a double headed line to represent this relationship.  

After all this we arrive at 'almost infinite possibilities'. When we view the image we always have the option to interpret it how we see fit. We may be directed towards a specific reading but this can always be challenged. This is because all the photograph can do is point to an event. As a medium photography in unassertive and it requires other elements to make its statement more forceful (the newspaper caption being a prime example). But left alone the image is a vague and suggestive thing. It hints at much but confirms little. But surely it is this speculative process that makes photography such a fascinating medium.

All this helped to clarify my thoughts a bit but translating all this into academic terms while relating it to a specific discussion is going to be a bit tougher.

Tuesday, 9 November 2010

Minimal?

i've been thinking a lot recently about definitions. Why do we call something a given name? What characteristics of an object actually allow us to define it? By what criteria do judge our definitions as valid?
This existential questioning about the nature of things was provoked by this image from Dan Flavin's retrospective at the Guggenheim:

Untitled (to Tracy, to celebrate the love of a lifetime), 1992
The reason this piece provoked such thoughts was that it contradicted what i had thought  about Flavin. I had always seen Flavin as the quintessential minimalist. His work was not concerned with demonstrating authorial skill but rather with creating 
a dialoguebetween object and space. When we look at a piece like the nominal three (to WIlliam Ockham) it is not the technical skill of the artist that we marvel at. The simple materials used and basic arrangement prevent any such reaction. Rather by keeping the objects simple we move away from thinking about them in isolation towards a consideration of how they interact with the context in which they are displayed. Flavin's work then is an important turning point in art and paves the way for conceptual art and site specific practices. 


Under the literal definition of the word the work is 
certainly minimal. Firstly there is not much to the lights used  by. They are basic strip lights that could be bought anywhere. It is also minimal in the sense that very little production is required to make the work. The lights are just attached to the wall. But the work is also part of the Minimalist tradition. Beyond the physical properties of the work the concepts that inform the piece adhere to principles of a specific genre of art. It is a combination of all these parts that make the piece such a clear articulation of Minimalism.

When we turn to Untitled (to Tracy, to celebrate the love of a lifetime) the work feels quite different. The work could no longer be described in any physical sense: it is simply too big. Yet in many ways it still adheres to the principles so indicative of Minimalism. This not a piece that fails to take into account the place in which it is being shown. Rather the strong vertical column draws our attention to the spiral staircase that surrounds it. It is not trying to overpower the space but enter into a dialogue with it. Within this dialogue elements of both parts are revealed. The light from the sculpture literally, and metaphorically, illuminates the staircase. In turn the stair case provides and ever changing platform from which to view the work. It is this sort of relationship that was integral to Minimalism and this is continued here. 

But there is no escaping the fact the size of the work introduces a degree of monumentality to it and this seems to contradict some of the principles shown in the earlier piece. It may be Minimal is principle but not so in execution. So can both pieces be said to represent Minimalism? I guess it depends on how you define it. If a piece is defined solely by its' concept then yes they could. But this neglects a huge part of the work and seems unsatisfying. Rather we should not use definitions so stringently. To define anything in fixed terms is an injustice to the mutable nature of the world we live in. Instead lets accept that things develop and change as is necessary. We can borrow and combine various aesthetics and concepts but ultimately is the end product the is of consequence.