Took a brief trip to the MoMA today and was fun to see some big names doing what they do best, along side some others we hadn’t heard of. Song Dong had a film on show titled ‘Broken Mirror’. We encountered it at the perfect time; we could see a road with cars driving and people walking but after a few seconds a hammer came into shot. The hammer proceeded to smash what we had previous thought to be the scene but was merely a reflection. This method was then repeated a number of times in a variety of locations. Sometimes the mirror would smash, other times it would only be chipped, once it just flew out of his hand the moment the hammer came into contact with it. Even though the ‘reveal’ had disappeared for the audience in the gallery, it was obvious that passers by were not aware of what was going to happen. The shock on their faces was still very real. It’s a piece, which seems to be questioning the reality of film and the illusions it can create.
‘Grosse Fatigue’ is a visual essay by Camille Henrot about the history of the universe, a big topic but she tackled it well. Something that interested us was how there were obvious clips which were filmed by her to fit with what was being saying and then there were clips which could have ben filmed by her but also looked very similar to content you might find on YouTube. The film is pure speculation and could perhaps be a reference to how we look to the Internet to solve our lack of knowledge, confirmed by the layout/screen-based aesthetic of the film. On Kawara’s book ‘One Million Years’ is a continuation of his aim to make viewers aware of their place in history and to give the passage of time a kind of materiality. His interest lies in how our society uses dates to grasp time's elusiveness. The book is in two volumes, the first, ‘Past’, is dedicated to ‘all those who have lived and died,’ and covers the years from 998,031 BC to 1969 AD. The second book, ‘Future’, is dedicated to ‘the last one,’ and begins with the year 1993 AD and ends with the year 1,001,992 AD. Portions of the books have been read aloud in locations around the world and the recordings of this made up part of the installation. Alfredo Jaar’s piece ‘Lament of the Images’ was also something that got our attention; it began with a number of stories from around the world, dealing with issues of photography and representation. Before making the work, he had photographed the Genocide in Rwanda in 1994, but no one cared for the imagery he had captured. This set him on a task to find new ways of representing the image, new ways for them to achieve the attention they deserve. When encountering the work, one is met by a blinding white light, mirroring to the blindness of the individuals viewing the original photographs. The work is about the absence of images and this phrase ‘let there be light’, describing not only a thirst for literal visibility but also knowledge of the truth.
Had a chance to listen to a Freakonomics podcast today, the subject of which was a junior U.S. Senator from New Jersey, Cory Booker. It was nothing aside from an uplifting listen; he appeared to be bringing hope, intelligence, and humility back into politics. People in the U.S. need to become more aware of him and embrace his work. (listen here)
Since the work regarding the dust is semi-concluded, just requires us to purchase/obtain a vacuum cleaner, we were wondering whether it’s still necessary to contact artists to clean their spaces. Perhaps it’s more interesting to think about the idea of the label in another context. Still using the idea of a narrative and a value attached to the activity/item based on this ‘label’. It brings us back round to the art which cannot be seen or is promised but never feels as if it’s been received. Susan Collis is someone to reference here; her exhibition ‘Down to the Mother’ first appears as either the aftermath of a show just been or the beginning of one to come. Screws left in the wall, a broom propped up in a corner, a paint smeared piece of wood on the ground. We are then informed that the screws are solid gold and the ‘paint’ is actually a mix of diamond and amber. The viewer is promised art but on entry might feel misled until taking a moment to consider what the space actually has to offer.
Michael Asher's exhibition at the Claire S. Copley Gallery in 1974 also inspires this moment of realization; the piece was to remove the wall that separated the gallery from the office, exposing the galleries business operations. This could come in the form of a queue inside the gallery which lead only to the next room or back into itself. Art packaging seems to fall into this too, bubble-wrap, gaffer tapped cardboard all accompanied by a palate – suggesting a delivery of some sort. This could be considered sculptural at first until one takes another look to find an invoice/delivery receipt containing information about the work. The information could be assigned to a fictional artist, but employ the ‘actual’ real of the work or could be allocated to us, something to figure out.
Michael Asher's exhibition at the Claire S. Copley Gallery in 1974 also inspires this moment of realization; the piece was to remove the wall that separated the gallery from the office, exposing the galleries business operations. This could come in the form of a queue inside the gallery which lead only to the next room or back into itself. Art packaging seems to fall into this too, bubble-wrap, gaffer tapped cardboard all accompanied by a palate – suggesting a delivery of some sort. This could be considered sculptural at first until one takes another look to find an invoice/delivery receipt containing information about the work. The information could be assigned to a fictional artist, but employ the ‘actual’ real of the work or could be allocated to us, something to figure out.
