Expectation vs Perception vs Actuality

Elisa and I will be moving into a suite of artist studios at the end of January and the process of designing my space has got me thinking about the difference between actual 'work', the perception of 'work' and any visitors expectation of what work 'should' look like.

An example of this might commonly be referred to as an inspiration board/wall and their prevalence in artist studios. Often these are quite chaotic and could illustrate some type of mindset but I do wonder if, for some, are they functional or just perception/expectation devices?

It's difficult to gauge as our visits to artist studios in Perth and Fremantle have often been in the context of some formal event. That is to say that the space has highly likely been transformed/tidied/polished to accommodate large numbers of visitors over a short time-frame.

Are brushes, pencils and oily rags scattered for effect? Is work product hidden away for fear that any imperfections might colour perception? Are shopping lists, birthday cards and other normal day-to-day stuff swapped out for creative product?

I had to think of an old television commercial where the cook warms this or that up in the microwave then proceeds to mess both the kitchen and him/herself up so that the guests get the impression some mammoth effort is behind that which appears in front of them.

In designing my space I am trying to port my current space into a new room. This is typically very minimalist will only small minatures of series I'm working on pinned to the wall. Any visual clutter is avoided so I can concentrate on just those images and nothing else when I turn from the noise of the digital aspects of my work to the quiet, dry analogue world of a simple, white wall.

I'm almost concerned the design doesn't look enough like what others might expect of a working artists space.

A good analogy to all this would be the shuffle function on an iPod. We once read (saw?) an interesting piece about how people complained that the shuffle wasn't random enough in that the music from some artists and/or genres sometimes appeared in clusters of songs. The software engineers then had to actually program out some of the randomness to give the perception that it was truly random.

This is not to say that I think some people are cluttering their work spaces to fit perception. There is every chance that others thrive in visual noise.

Nonetheless the 'shopping list' of what should go where has got me thinking about such things. I'm hesitant to create a space that might be perceived as an artist studio but ultimately works against my creative process.

The greatness of Lewis Hine...

Every now and then I jump onto LOC and lose myself in their archives. I've written about Lewis Hine's textile children images before but I constantly find myself being drawn back to them. LOC has 50+MB Tiffs of a lot of these shots and the archive itself is huge (5000+ Hine images alone). They include a mixture of scans from prints as well as from the original negatives.

Here just a small - mildly tweaked - selection of both the textile shots and some other supporting images.

The Anxiety of Everything

I've written about the 'problem' with accessibility to masses of images before but it reared it's head again today. We often have these moments where we see something that is so close to the bone of another creatives work that it makes you wince. This has been widely discussed in the past with the idea of motif 'ownership' being raised. That is to say, who 'owns' a particular object. Does Man Ray 'own' toilets? Does Emin 'own' beds? Does Hirst 'own' sharks? Does Weston 'own' capsicums? Does Mapplethorpe 'own' flowers and male genitals? The list could go on and on.

A few years ago I started (but - again - abandoned) a series called 'whispers'. Two of the prints were finalised, with one being shown at an award in 2009. Otherwise the series never migrated out from the cupboard and only stayed as digital sketches.

Today I noticed that a Canadian artist is essentially doing the same idea much more successfully. I don't claim it as a necessarily original idea and I'm sure if I scratched a bit deeper around the traps I could find much older examples of the same idea.

Nonetheless, the awareness is both frustrating creatively (now the work will most definitely be abandoned) and personally.

Plagiarism (and the perception thereof) is a big issue especially when you factor in attribution, referencing and mass media to the equation. That is, is it legitimate to reference/copy work provided it's attributed? What when the work is a background element? What when it's not attributed and knowledge is 'assumed'? Recent examples include Sam Leach at the 2010 Wynn Prize as well as the winner of the portrait prize at the 2011 Cossack Art Awards.

In 2008, a street artist - Cartrain - used Hirst's diamond skull as a small element in a series of work. Damien Hirst contacted the Design and Artists Copyright Society (DACS) demanding action be taken over the works. On the advice of his gallery, Cartrain handed over the artworks to DACS and forfeited the £200 he had made. The same artist later stole a series of pencils from a Hirst show at the Tate, held them 'hostage' demanding the return of his works. He even used the pencils to sign his own work.

Hirst himself has had his fair share of legal scrapes on multiple occasions. Most famously for his giant anatomy doll but also for multiple works by John Le Kay. Funnily enough when I first saw the Hirst skull, I immediately thought of Arthur C. Clarke's show - the titles including one of the images of our generation.

You can find hundreds and hundreds of similar examples easily online. Is ignorance a valid argument any more? Is awareness ultimately stifling, especially if you have to establish the originality of an idea prior to actually 'doing' something?

As a side note, 'Whispers' was unsuccessfully proposed as an exhibition in Perth a few years ago.

More reading:
"When does similar become too similar"
"Who owns cooling towers?"

Artwork Removed from Major Art Award.

UPDATE ONE: I posted this to encourage debate about what roles, rights, engagement, empowerment (or lack thereof) there is or should be in the artist/curator relationship. Please feel free to contribute comments.

UPDATE TWO: Once an artist clears the selection process, they are asked to sign off on terms and conditions and submit an 'acceptance form' confirming their willingness to participate. If the reconfiguration of the work was curatorially-driven (that is, part of a 'big idea') then I would suggest the City include something akin to the following in that document:

'The curator may add to, change or remove any part of submitted artworks at any time, without notice and without liability.'

This contravenes NAVA's best practice guidelines* but if artists sign-off then the curator could theoretically be given free reign.

* 'The artists’/craft practitioners’ moral rights must be observed. Moral rights provisions in the Copyright Act give to the artist/craft practitioner the right to be known as the author of a work (attribution), not have the work falsely attributed and the right to have integrity of their art/craft work respected (not to be altered, tampered with or damaged in any way).' - SOURCE: 'Code of Practice for the Professional Australian Visual Arts, Craft and Design Sector'.

UPDATE THREE: There would seem to be an attitude that, when it comes to the artist/curator relationship, 'beggars can't be choosers'. It's arguable that this analogy is not only offensive to artists but also to beggars.

ORIGINAL POST:
I recently decided to remove my artwork from one of the bigger Western Australia award shows prior to it's closing on the basis of how it had been treated by the curatorial team. This was not a light decision but one of principle, especially when you factor in the various conditions that surround this particular style of event.

Basically I supplied a simple diptych with clear instructions about spacing and the configuration of the two panels. The piece itself was small (approximately 140cm wide when installed) so it's modification supposedly had nothing to do with space issues. This especially considering other works in the same show were significantly larger.

The work itself included two separate images of singular light bulbs: One red (left panel) and one green (right panel). These bulbs (together with many others) had been recycled from a garden of a friend and have a - for want of a better word - patina. They were photographed in isolation on a black background.

Instead of a rather linear (and quiet) reading with the two panels sitting next to each other, the curator instead decided to split the panels, placing them on either side of an 'exit gate' of the award with approximately 2-3 metres between them. This reconfiguration of the work was done with no consultation whatsoever and I only saw the work like this whilst attending the opening.

The event itself is an annual $12,000+ acquisitive award held in a large open area inside a big shopping centre. This 2-3 metre gap included a multitude of distractions including branding elements from stores, people traffic and other visual noise.

Essentially to an uninformed viewer the curatorial positioning appeared as some form of tool of judgement over other works in the show. ie. Was visiting the show a good or bad experience? Were the works on show good or bad?

Further to this - and critically - the installation gave the impression that I had revisited some conceptual, installation-like approach in my practice rather than my current series of essentially 'straight' images. To some in the art's 'industry', this would even contravene ideas that I have discussed with them previously and for others (installation 'fans') any subsequent showings might prove disappointing.

Such awards are rare opportunities for myself (as other artists) to get our work in front of a notoriously apathetic hierarchy. This was completely new work previously only seen by a handful of people. As it was the audiences' first engagement with the series, they now have a perception that will not marry with the broader series itself.

To use context is well and good (ie. proximity of works to manipulate meaning) even should these works be combined with components (non-art objects, performance, 'noise', etc) that we might find 'odd'. Such things can be stimulating on a multitude of levels but actually physically interring with work is crossing a whole series of lines.

As an artist, I would expect some degree of consultation in any invasive processes and – most importantly – that the art object itself is treated respectfully and as it was 'designed' - for want of a better word.

With all this in mind, I expressed my concerns to a staff member during the opening and later that night formally requested via email that my work be removed completely.

This provoked a long telephone call with an arts administrator in which he presented the idea that the reconfiguration of the work was well within his curatorial 'rights' and that he thought that the 'work plays an important part in the holistic layout and without it the narrative of the exhibition is affected.' When challenging him with various scenarios (lying a sculpture on it's side or hanging an image upside down - again without consultation) he agreed that these were also viable ideas.

I then asked if he would mark a work (ie. paint an artist's sculpture) and he said that this would be damaging or changing the work so he wouldn't consider doing such a thing.

In a later email he stated:

'The ever-expanding role of the curator should be considered in terms of potential overlaps, complements, and conflicts with the role of the artist. As curators have become more actively involved in the production of meaning, their work has been increasingly read through the notions of "artistry" and "creativity".

The "curator/artist", on the other hand, emerges from and works within a different set of circumstances. As the role of the curator shifted towards further participation in the production of meaning, curatorial work could be seen as creative or artistic in ways that would have been difficult to conceive of in its more conventional, custodial position. This increased potential for creativity led to the rise of what could be described as the auteur curator. This model of curatorial function posits the curator as a visionary, and the exhibition as their medium.'

I posited that the perception of my practice has been distorted/damaged with his interference into the work itself. I also said that this was not something that I can simply recover from with a reinstall or movement of the work. This especially so when you consider that the majority of the 'professional' audience was in attendance at the opening and was extremely unlikely to revisit the show.

Another analogy I drew in discussions with others (as well as the supervisor of said curator) related to an artist delivering a sculpture of a human figure in three parts with instructions of 'head on top of torso on top of legs'. The curator effectively did the equivalent of ignoring that and scattered the parts as they saw fit - all without consulting the artist in any form.

I will leave the last word to a friend who wrote the following:

'I would challenge the curator to manipulate a work by a renowned artist without their knowledge and see what happens. I still think he should have discussed it with the artist, particularly if there was a clear intention and directions for the display of the work. Any change nullifies the intent of the artist as unimportant, that the artist has not thought about how he/she wants their work seen and experienced or if it fits into a long standing display criteria, an ongoing approach to image making and storytelling which is intrinsically linked to that artist. Sometimes how the work is displayed automatically makes the work recognisable as much as the work content itself.'

Cultural Manifesto

I'll prefix this by saying that this is written from the point of view of someone who doesn't fit into the existing model and that these thoughts are relatively fluid. There are surely many who are satisfied and may even thrive within that which is currently in favour.

The suggestions are utopian ideals that politically might not score as many points as a colourful, but ultimately hollow soundbite culture.

At the moment it would seem that a significant chunk of arts funding - both civil and corporate - is focused on two or three streams. Each of these has it's problems but equally provide an easy photo opportunity for those who are at the helm of the responsible ship. ie. 'I made THIS happen'.

The first - rather garish and glaring - example is public art. There are many arguments about how public art helps activate space, engages with the protagonists in that space or simply 'makes it prettier'. Unfortunately this is often not the case when public art projects are 'enforced' by something akin to Western Australia's 'Percent for Art' Scheme.

The artworks are often treated as flourish or - worse still - used as 'ersatz' elements. Basically an architect might be obligated to design in a way finding system but will instead kill two birds by combining the artwork with the signage. The artwork is potentially compromised by this.

Public art is very much defined by material choice, robustness and safety considerations. i.e. You can't offend anyone, it should be 'uplifting', everything must have a dull edge, be out of reach, etc, etc. It also must often pass committees. This can be stacked with people who are either ill-informed or tainted by an agenda. The art object can then be homogenized to the point of tastelessness.

The second is the art award circuit. We personally enter a limited number of such things (those with pre-selection processes) for the rare opportunity to get our work in front of what I term the 'Mysterious Few', something that would otherwise seem very difficult for outsiders in Perth.

Awards are easy fodder for councils. They then get to throw around large numbers (ie. $45,000 in prizes, 6,000+ people saw the show) and ultimately provide nice, round KPIs for reports as well as excellent photo opportunities.

Awards shows suffer from many flaws not least of which they are often held in horrendous venues with terrible lighting, ear-splitting white noise and an apathetic audience. Big numbers look good in reports but what when 80% of those simply throw a incidental quick glance between other activities. ie. in the brief walk from a fast food restaurant to a $2 shop?

They also vary wildly in quality, the ability of curators to resolve disparate work and installation style. Given the political aspect of such things, some councils take an all inclusive approach and some exhibitions are salon style to an extreme with massive variations in quality.

So... what are the solutions?

I have seen a few variations on what is loosely termed 'Percent for Space'. That is, rather than erecting political totems that have been funded by an active policy of setting aside a portion of project costs, that same money is allocated to subsidised leases to helps studios, ARIs and other such things get established.

This ultimately feeds back into the 'loop' as areas are often rejuvenated in their activation by creatives, they become more attractive to other businesses who then setup and draw in an audience, etc, etc.

There are a few problems with this model. The key one being how does someone 'qualify' for such things? You could potentially link it to educational outcomes - ie. someone holds a BFA/MFA so they are 'officially' an artist - but qualification doesn't necessarily equal an active artistic practice. This also exempts the multitude of artists who don't fit (willingly or otherwise) that institutional model.

You also can't necessarily link it to membership of particular organisations as these are often without qualified application processes. ie.  you pay and you become a member irrelevant of active practice.

The other model that I have seen on a project-by-project scale is micro-philanthropy. Examples (and variations) of this include Kickstarter, Art Angels and Artsource's 'Patrons' fund. I've been thinking about how this same model might be applied to a broader funding pool.

An example would be that a company is specifically setup with not-for-profit status and registers to accept donations. Other companies and/or individuals could donate funds to that company (with associated tax benefits) and money would then be distributed to creatives via an independently qualified application process with some tangible result (edition prints, books, etc) being awarded to those who have originally donated.

That same not-for-profit might also actively purchase artworks rather than simply fund projects. These artworks could then form part of a greater 'cultural collection' that is more indicative of both time and environment.

Scale is important as it encourages others to participate and provides large numbers that are politically rewarding without too much compromise.

Lastly, the awards dilemma. As rewarding as art awards are for a limited number of individuals I think an active acquisitional policy or a series of curatorially robust 'survey' shows would be more sustainable.

The key problem with such things is the need for dedicated staff and space to manage such things and a program of engaging in a broader sense with both creatives and the audiences. This is 'harder' politically as it doesn't necessarily provide soundbites and is more culturally committed.

As mentioned at the start, this is rather fluid. I freely admit that I don't have 'solutions' but I do recognise that I am not the only one that doesn't fit.

It's not simply a matter of recutting the clothes, some times the mannequin is the one in need of a tweak!

1st Tamworth Textile Triennial

In 2008 I was lucky enough to accompany Elisa to the opening of the 18th Tamworth Fibre Textile Biennial. It was a great weekend and we both met a collection of passionate, creative people who most definitely didn't fit any cliches of knitting needle-wielding 'cloth-based crafty person'.

The show presented a wealth of interesting ideas and at the time I wrote about a distinctive modernist approach to materials in that a large proportion of participating artists worked in a distinctively transformative manner. Hard substances were twisted, tied and moulded to simulate softness and equally soft substances were used to simulate that which was robust.

In some ways you might argue that the artists - at least those selected - were almost uncomfortable to use simple thread, cotton or wool in a 'traditional' way for fear of being 'typecast' by the broader arts community. By subverting materials and substrates, they were perhaps more confident in the presentation of conceptual ideas and could rationalize the artification of any resultant objects.

This is a problem that is also encountered by photo media artists as with various craft disciplines. Art photographers in particular often suffer from a form of anxiety in that a straight, unmanipulated image - in their mind - 'needs' embellishment or support (ie text, sound or secondary elements) to be accepted as a 'serious' piece.

Pictorialism is taught as a flawed movement, yet the number of young photo media artists who fall into the same trap is extraordinary. Equally, many - myself included - find it difficult to allow images to speak as singular entities.

At the end of September Elisa and I attended the next edition in the form of the 1st Tamworth Textile Triennial. As before, the collection of artists was inspiring and rich in it's diversity.

Themes in the work - as you'd expect - overlapped to a certain extent with the previous show but equally some were more dominant than others. This could be the curatorial hand but it could also be indicative of the concerns of textile-based practitioners.

Hearing some artists talk about their work it seemed very clear that whilst many worked almost monk-like over prolonged periods on their art objects, some practices bordered on self-flagellation. A few artists very clearly physically 'suffer' to make their work and process is integral to the production of the objects.

Whilst broader concepts of work, effort and repetition have been historically celebrated in robust artworks, when 'work' marries with 'beauty' the art industry tends to have problems reconciling the two. This becomes even more problematic when pattern and what might loosely be termed women's work are integrated. It is sad that conceptual work is often then ugly and deliberately unresolved to fulfil expectations critically. ie. it almost needs to look like a 'work in progress' or very obviously 'WORK' with failings, waste and all.

Even with me being aware of these issues, I readily admit to being initially dismissive of some work in both editions of the Tamworth show that I have seen. That which was refined, resolved and polished appeared at first glance effortless and lacking in substance. This is however a failing on my behalf as an audience member and only highlighted my (as surely others') technical ignorance.

Artworks - and the representation of WORK - shouldn't have to appease the lowest common denominator aesthetically and by doing so it will inevitably be simplistic, populist and ultimately lacking in substance.

Michele Elliot

One of the first artworks you encounter as you enter the Tamworth Regional Art Gallery is that of Michele Elliot. Two large paper circles, each with 1,000 small wooden pegs inserted in them, are loosely attached to the wall approximately 2 metres apart. Between these two forms a thin, red thread runs from peg to peg. The work is aesthetically beautiful with the threads overlapping and creating a complex texture and interesting variations in density resulting from the differing thread lengths.

It was only later when listening to her artist talk that you realise the effort you are looking at. As an example, each of the 2,000 pegs was hand-made and the threads were installed in situ by the artist and a gallery assistant. This effort is supposedly to be repeated in each subsequent installation of the work as the show tours over the next two years.

Further to ideas of connectedness and the fragility of relationships, I was particularly interested in the idea of how these 'nodes' might be affected by the install and deinstall. What should happen if the pegs were damaged or happened to fall out? Will the work be repaired or will the entropy be celebrated? A question was also posed about the deinstall process. According to the artist the threads should be simply cut through at the end of the show… poetically this is particularly interesting. More photos of the work can also be seen on Michele's website.

Tania Spencer

Not far from Michele's work, a three dimensional form by Tania Spencer hung suspended from the ceiling. This large work, made from fencing wire, appeared to float effortlessly yet it surely was extremely heavy. From one particular angle a distinctive pattern revealed itself, yet the work appeared visually chaotic from others. Tania spoke during her talk about the physical strain involved in the production of the work and these contrasts - hard pretending to be soft, heavy pretending to be light and three dimensions appearing as two - overlapped with similar ideas explored by Alana Clifton-Cunningham. Alana's work - in particular from the previous edition of the Tamworth show - was armour-like visually yet made from soft, woollen materials.

Lucy Irvine

The arguable hero work of the exhibition was that of Lucy Irvine. Many metres of reticulation pipe were assembled over three large wire mesh shapes to make a gnarled, organic form that seemed to cling to the wall. This visually striking work - reminiscent of some alien fungal growth - invited inspection from multiple angles and it's complexity and intricacy was very rewarding. Lucy's artist statement describes the production of the work in performative terms yet - as mentioned before - at first glance the refinement of the work doesn't betray that process. ie. it doesn't look improvised in any way. I particularly liked the ideas that it - in my mind at least - explored in regards to organic vs artificial nutrition, water vs fire and native vs introduced plant forms.

Contrasts and conflicts have always intrigued me in art works and in the reasoning of those who make them. It is always difficult to gauge whether they might be intentional or flaws but nonetheless it proves fruitful ground.

Rodney Love

Rodney Love's work - a collection of figures shrouded by a cloth - was installed on top of a plinth which approximated his own height. This made the viewing of the work in close proximity obviously very difficult but nonetheless invited effort and curiosity from viewers. He was rather dismissive of his personal reasoning behind this particular work in his artist talk and statement with his rationale being that the ambiguity in the work should encourage narrative development (or access) on behalf of the viewer. That said, there were many conflicts in the work that I found interesting and that require addressing.

The major one being that the figures are chaotically arranged under the shroud yet the shroud itself is refined and beautifully made. The later aspect appears then ritualistic rather than a simple, respectful covering of the recently (and seemingly randomly collected) deceased. The dead are ceremonially arranged symmetrically in most cultures - ie. graves are set in grids - so I'm not sure about the chaos in the work. Ultimately, it reminded of a key work from Walker Evans and how aspects of that work overlap with ideas explored here. That is, without it's caption but within context (together with FSA photographs of depression-era America), it's ambiguity could prove problematic.

Walker Evans, 'Squeakie asleep. Othel Lee, known as Squeakie, son of Floyd Burroughs, sharecropper'.

As with the last edition of this show, I could write something about nearly every artist and this is but a small selection of the work on show at the 1st Tamworth Textile Triennial. It will be on in Tamworth until November 26 then will tour to RMIT in Melbourne from February 2012 and other venues across Australia until late 2013.

As a post-script, it was sad to hear of the lack of funding and other forms of support for the event from various quarters. It borders on shameful that such a rewarding, dynamic and historically significant event struggles for media coverage and 'bigger' funding.

One only needs to see the often intense emotional response that some viewers have to textile work to see how enriching such events can be on both community and creative levels. Typecasting of such events and work on an arts administration level borders on farcical.

Artist Talks at the 1st Tamworth Textile Triennial

The Tamworth Textile Triennial opened in Tamworth, New South Wales in late September. Here are some images from the artist talks held over the opening weekend.

Will write some more about the show itself once I clear my head a bit!

Michele Elliot

Rodney Love

Belinda Von Mengersen

Carly Scoufos

Elisa Markes-Young

Demelza Sherwood