Diplomacy or lack thereof

I offended a friend tonight. She invited me to an opening at Arthouse Gallery (a space I avoid), with works by a friend of hers. I was in a mood and just walked up from a very sensible group show titled Nature by Proxy, which opened at Brian Moore Gallery (a space that I a giving a little more thought to). While not a dazzling tour de force, the show at BMG had enough bio-diversity to amuse the eye and the sense of the aesthetic. Irene Hanenbergh's zund prints of botanical abstracts, which to me leant towards fractals, printed on aluminium, stood out for me. I have a particular fondness for photographic prints on aluminium, a wonderful combination. I have not seen much work in the medium since Felicia Kan's beautiful work, at Mori a few years ago. Where are you Felicia??? John Nicholson's 'Anomalies in Bandwidth' a lovely perspex and polypropelene wall piece in translucent white superimposed on a delicate pastel rainbow coloured serpentine band. Paul Knight provided rather competent suburbun environment C-types and Daniel Crooks, on loan from Sherman, delivered an adequate DVD of a digitised waves on a beach, which can also be purchased as a still photograph from the Sherman stock-room up the road. The opening was well attended by a cross-section of patrons and artists, who lent it relevant levels of credibility. But back to the offence and insult at Arthouse. My friend arrived at the opening after me. By the time she walked in, I already had the misfortune of hearing the speech by the artist and looking at the work. So, the first words, she heard from me were:"the work is hideous, I really can't stay!". My friend replied "hey that is a friend of ours!", to which I replied, "That has nothing to do with her being a crap artist," and walked out.

Admittedly, I was not in the best mood and under more placid circumstances, I probably would have euphemised it away. The question is, why bother? The work was shocking. Laboured canvases with female figures painted straight out of 1930's posters, set in semi-seductive poses in boudoirs, on beaches and in jungles. There was possibly one attempt at post-modern social commentary (although one can't be certain), with a pregnant figure reclining amid tropical foliage. I struggled to sYe a twist of humour, self-mockery, a jocular reference here or there but found nothing but earnest, static and sterile execution -- but with really wonderful candied colours and beautifully beautifully painted. One would have inevitably been subject to exalted comments like 'such wonderful detail!' 'such an effort, amazing!' etc etc.

Yikh!!!!!!! Effort is never, ever, ever a substitute for talent. In art, labour is nothing, without talent or inspiration. This was a clear case in point. Should I have held my tongue? Well, to be honest, I was itching to say something to the artist herself, who had already nauseated me with a speech, which proclaimed that the ethos of the works was to showcase the soul beyond the painted surface. The fact that she failed so abysmally in her primary aim (which to be honest is pretty much the only aim any artist ever has -- spelling it out, is more than trite), was a double insult -- to art. I just happen to treat bad art as a crime against humanity on a fundamental level and believe that it should be resisted at every opportunity.

It is one thing to support friends with constructive criticism, where genuine talent exists. But, when there is pedestrian technique masquerading as art and holding forth with pathos and self-righteousness, all entitlements to compassion are forfeited, in my book at least :-).

On the road to Venice...

I won't be the first to comment on Australian attitude to international experiences. The blend of the cultural cringe and parochialism is touching...uhmm. On this occasion, it is the blinkered euphoria surrounding the Ricky Swallow entry in the Venice Biennale. Judging by the press in this country and even more tellingly the informal visual art blogs like 'artlife', there was nothing to reccommed Venice this year other than "our Ricky", especially following the endorsement from "our Cate" . I am a fan of Ricky's work and the piece is wonderful, but anyone who reads widely the international art press, would be aware that the issues of interest at this years Biennale, had only a tangential connection with the star at the Australian Pavillion. That the key talking points were the strong feminist/female focus taken by the two female curators Maria de Corral and Rosa Martinez, Barbara Kruger and Guerrilla Girls installations attracting attention as well as the tampon chandelier by French-born artist Joana Vasconcelosa. Controversies raged about political content of the works included as well as the generally noted absence of creative controversy. It is natural to take pride in distinguished domestic product, but not to the exclusion of The Whole World. We can not afford this level of blinkeredness, nor is it a valid reflection of where our art and our artists are at. There are enough people in this country, who are going to or will be going to Venice and other significant world art fairs, to bring a level of sensibility to the way art is discussed, instead of kindergarten level 'aren't we wonderful' jumping for joy, which does us little credit and is undoubtedly an embarrassment to 'our Ricky'.

Niche-ism and tribalism

Just a quickie. I think there is not enough of 'hands across the waters' action happening across the various arts. I was talking recently to some musicians/performers, who eyed me with a degree of reticence, as an outsider. They were complaining about the plight of musicians, live music scene, difficulties in making a living etc etc. Not unfamiliar territory to visual artists if you ask me. But when I saw that as an opportunity to chime in with an 'us too' type comment about the loss of inner city studio spaces -- no interest. Is that just me? I see all artists as being in the same boat -- especially in this country, where the arts do not adequate funding and public profile. The fact that tiny insular art scenes co-exist and cook in their own juices is woeful. Choice of medium is in so many ways incidental to what we try to achieve as artists, to what we try to communicate. Cross-pollination between musicians and visual artists is not without precedent on any level of engagement. I was recently reading up about and listening to music by Iannis Xenakis, a composer of Greek origin, who trained as an engineer and worked with Le Courbousier in Paris, before devoting himself to music. He is known for developing architectural polytopes -- multilateral spaces designed to interact with, influence and enhance an artistic experience of the viewer, whether visual or aural. This wholistic approach to art is intensely interesting and would be remarkable to experience in person. Xenakis' music certainly sounds designed for a polytopic experience, although it is very intellectually atmospheric and readily communicative on its own.

But back to our little village -- i believe that as artists we should omnivorous, when it comes to ideas and communistic at least to the extent of remembering that we are all artists.

The price of art and the cost of art

The Deutscher ~Menzies auctions were on for the past two nights. Always a strange experience fundamentally removed from art actually and a lot to do with ownership. Before going to Sofitel-Wentworth for part one, popped in to Michael Carr for the opening of Darren Wardle, a Melbourne based painter who specialises in painting almost stencilised urban landscape -- LA style in this show, with the somewhat fashionable spray paint effect influences and graffiti in lollypop hues, which predictably, although without any real necessity, lead to comparisons with Howard Arkley. Irony is a constant undercurrent in the art world at its juncture with the art market. At the opening, Michael Carr was bemoaning the fact that the rising cost of living in Sydney, has destroyed the communal spirit of artists, while in Melbourne, artists still find it possible to have inner city studios and to commune as it were. And there I was thinking -- here we are in Queen Street Woollahrah, looking at paintings that are taylor made for minimalist white walls in converted warehouse apartments, in buildings once occupied by artists and now owned by achemm...some of your clients. Auctions provoke an even great requirement for suspension of disbelief. The extent to which the artist and art for that matter is removed from the process is amazing. It is only a mild consolation that artists (and young artists in particular) are generally spared this process, which reduces works to dead objects essentially, with a perceived rather than an intrinsic value. Suffice to say the number of blue chip non-masterpieces attracting the interest and the dollars is always depressing as is the number of bland and banal landscapes, with a solid market following among those who can afford it. "Those who can afford it" also deserve a slight mention, if only because we are in the visual arts and visual impressions count. The visual impression from the Sofitel on Wednesday night was not an "easy on the eye" one. Sydney is such a pretty city and full of pretty people -- alas the pool of pretty people does not extend to the art collecting circles. It could be the sports car syndrome -- by the time you can afford one, you don't look good in it any more.

The art market deserves to be a bit younger, a bit better looking, a bit better for the emerging artist, a bit less set in hideous, dusty, gilded frames.

Art is not entertainment

I had an argument with a friend this afternoon. We've had it before. She wants to be amused and entertained by everything, art included. "Why all this earnestness?" she asks. I argue that humourless earnestness has nothing to do with it, but art is serious, art is not entertainment. If you want to watch someone do cartwheels, fine, go to the circus. If you want to hear jokes and fall about laughing go to see stand-up, but don't go to an art gallery. Art is not entertainment, it is not there to amuse. "But it can!" my friend intones. Yes, it can, but that is not the primary purpose. At a recent lecture at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Dore Ashton, one of the key scholars of the New York School, protested vehemently the recent hike in the MoMA, to $20, which was rationalised as being on par with the cost of other forms of entertainment in New York. She is of course correct -- reducing art to entertainment, deprives us of the opportunity to be open to art as a vehicle for personal emotional, intellectual and spiritual development.

"But art openings are fun!" my friend interjects again. Yes, of course they are. I enjoy the shmoozing and the champagne, with as much gusto as every other self-important art git out there. That is not the point -- being involved in the art scene is fun, is sociable, is entertaining, but it has nothing to do with experiencing art. What happens when you look at art, happens in silence and it is a private moment; a private conversation that you have with the work. If the work is good, it is an important conversation and oftentimes, one that you would rather keep to yourself. I call that an uplifting experience.

"But not all art is uplifting" complains my friend, "some art is quite depressing".

Well, uplifting does not mean funny, hah-har. Guernica is certainly not funny hah hah but it is moving, inspiring and uplifting, because it makes us think and feel and shifts our balance from emotional apathy to awareness of pain and suffering, even if it makes us uncomfortable. And that is perfectlyh appropriate, because art is not entertainment and does not have to be and does not need to be intendend as such. This is of course a huge topic, but here's to dipping a toe in the water.

Why Art

1. Art is important (and that is why it is valuable)
2. There are rules and objective principles on which art understanding and appreciation is based.
3. These rules are as much about our humanity as they are about formal science and they can be mastered by anyone, who wants to.
4. Once you master foundations of understanding art, you can start to develop your own taste and opinions with confidence that does not need to rely on or defer to critics and perceived and or self-proclaimed experts.
5. The ability to trust in your own taste and judgement will enable you to confidently and successfully navigate the art world and the art market and if you choose, to build a collection that is both fulfilling emotionally and spiritually as well as financially sound as an investment.
6. Living with art in your life, will improve your life as a human being even if you only wanted to improve your lifestyle, because art is important.

Valerie Kabov your humble servant

valinmelb
Originally uploaded by vkabov.