December 29, 2014

2015 Prediction Nr. 3: No Need To Fake It Till You Make It

Don’t get me wrong: I dig the “fake it till you make it” message of Amy Cuddy’s TED-talk. You can fake the self-confident body posture not only until you make it, but until you become it. Nothing wrong with becoming self-confident, right - although in the arts, I would advice against it since isn’t it despair and doubt that evoke the best ideas in artists, huh. Na, I’m talking about the fakery in residencies and fellowships. Because yes, I’m spending my holidays in my home country where the continuous drizzle makes me surf the internet for residencies in all places but Belgium. See, there’s a difference between Belgium and my other home country Germany. In Germany you can only make it if you first make it abroad. In Belgium, you have to stay put to make it. No kidding, once a Belgian curator told me that he didn’t ask me to write for a catalogue because he preferred to work with writers who live nearby. One wouldn’t even think of making such an excuse in Germany- the farther you are, the better. Anyway, this little detour only to come to the main point: residencies are a great occasion to network, to work in peace, to change your habitat, to push your boundaries and once you’re in, the ball mostly keeps on rolling until you no longer apply but get invited for residencies and until, in the very end, you come to that point that you rather stay home. (However, beware, there is the risk that you end up being stuck in the first phase and never have an art career, just an art residency career... ). 

My best residency ever: the Getty Research Library, a paradise on a hill in Los Angeles

So what’s the fakery of residencies and fellowships and how do we participate in the faking? Let me give you one example of the many that I came upon. In Istanbul there is the maumau writer-in-residence program which “aims to create an atmosphere for writers in which they can work isolated from everyday life while experiencing the inspiring nature of Istanbul.” That sounds very promising until you read the details. For a period of 3 weeks the fee is 600 Euros for a bedroom and the use of a library, a common kitchen, a shared bathroom and wireless internet. Applicants “are responsible for the transportation costs including the travel to Istanbul, around the city, also the funding for their project and daily expenses such as food and medical care.” So you’re basically renting a room and it probably wouldn’t be more expensive (or even less so) to book a room on airbnb, which will equally enable you “to work isolated from everyday life while experiencing the inspiring nature of Istanbul.” Probably the owners think they can call it a residency because it’s located in a gallery building and it adds to their own reputation to have a so-called artist residency. Quite a lucrative business, working with artists... Art residencies are no longer about nourishing the arts. On the contrary, willingly or unwillingly there’re creating an art world that is accessible to only the elite. 

It gets worse when big reputable institutions start doing the same thing: giving fellowships that artists need to fund themselves. Like the legendary Rijksakademie residency program, whose call for applications was posted two weeks ago with a new amendment. Let me quote: “Every resident artist is asked to raise a Fellowship of € 15,000, preferably in their home country. Selected candidates will be provided with more information after the interview round.” Hurray, one must feel elated to get picked for that residency knowing that the application process is only starting unless you are in the position not to worry about 15,000 Euros. Nowadays the worst thing is no longer that you are mostly working without pay in the art world, but that you have to pay to get some work done. What else do we have left than to participate in this extortion of artists? One can say that crowdfunding makes it even worse, because it lets the institutions off the hook. So shall we stick to Amy Cuddy’s advice and put the arms up in the V of victory in front of the bathroom mirror? Maybe, but for now, New Years Eve, there is this great opportunity to write down your goals for 2015 (here’s a post from the minimalists on how to do it right) and then you put them in a crack of a wall (this worked for a friend of mine) and everything you wish for will become reality in the year ahead (or maximum 3 years). 

December 18, 2014

2015 Prediction Nr. 2: Clubs And Critics Are The Next Big Things

Me at the dinner club, korean barbecue at Arirang, Charlottenburg

This might be new to you but the latest trend in town is to be part of a club. I myself actually kind of set this trend in 2014 and in 2015 it’s gonna be hyping. Drop your music band, join a club! At the moment I’m part of a glee club, a drawing club, and a dinner club. It’s not only me, other cool people have started clubs this year. The thing is, they don’t call it a “club” yet but they will in 2015 because everybody will be clubbing. Of course, I might be the trendsetter of this trend but I’m not the avant-garde. Craig Shuftan is. He was talking culture club as early as 2002 (first on the radio Triple J, then in the book The Culture Club: Modern Art, Rock and Roll, and Other Things Your Parents Warned You About, 2007). That’s the thing about being avant-garde. Andy Warhol was one, and he explained it like this: “Whenever I’m interested in something, I know the timing’s off, because I’m always interested in the right thing at the wrong time. I should just be getting interested after I’m not interested any more, because right after I’m embarrassed to still be thinking about a certain idea, that’s when the idea is just about to make somebody a few million dollars. My same good mistakes.” No wonder then, that Craig Shuftan just started a new music band Ducks! (check it out here).  

 The electronic music duo Craig Shuftan and Lani Bagley  

Craig Shuftan brings me to the next topic of 2015: great art writing, and this is the part where I make the obligatory suggestions for Christmas presents. But first of all, what is good art criticism? Mainly it opens up the artwork or the exhibition to a more abstract level - call it phenomenology - and that’s why you can can still read it decades later although the artwork itself might have disappeared. However, it’s been a while now that art criticism is stuck in a lurch or is it in a slump, and as Dr. Seuss taught us: it is really hard to un-slump yourself. This week a review about the Jorinde Voigt exhibit at Johann König Galerie in the Berliner Zeitung made me cry out how on earth?! Because yes, it is a mystery to me how these art reviews get published saying nothing but blablabla on an entire page. Nowadays art critics don’t express an opinion, nor do they seem to have an outlook. Art reviews are written purely to please the gallerist, the collector and the museum director. Shouldn’t it be the other way around: the art critic defining what should please the gallerist, the collector and the museum director? 

The crisis of art criticism is an old debate (it started around 2000). But I have a positive feeling that art critics are growing an opinion in 2015. To help them on their way, here are a few examples of good art writing and at the same time it's also a list for the non-art-writers of what to read during Christmas break:

1. Be punk

It takes guts to be an art critic. The most punk of the current critics is the artist Wolfgang Müller. Not only because he happened to have a punk band in the 1980s, Die Tödliche Doris. Nor because he publishes his articles in the smallest newspaper of Germany, the leftist newspaper Die Junge Welt. He also writes extensively on a forum like facebook. So what is a punk attitude? Take this Facebook status update as an example: “Once I was asked by a journalist: ‘What did you think when you noticed that punk-music and Super-8-films from 1980s subculture ended up in the museum?’ My answer: ‘That is wonderful! Where else can it end up? Or do you think, it would be better if it ends up on the scrapheap?’” Equally badass was Wolfgang Müller's suggestion about crowdfunding in the cultural magazine TIP: “When I would have the feeling that a diffuse flock of intelligentsia expected something particular of me, I would possibly make something disappointing so I could at least surprise myself. Like using the money to fly to Hawaii and send everybody a postcard with vinyl loops on which you can hear the reconstructed sound of the Hawaiian O’o - a bird last spotted in 1934.” To write punk is to write about underground culture, which is a culture that is not acknowledged like, for instance, deaf culture, promoted by Wolfgang Müller as “visual culture” (unfortunately this article in Die Junge Welt is not online anymore). And writing punk means also to be political. In a recent interview in the Berliner Zeitung, Müller asked a pertinent question about our society that we can try to answer in 2015: “Are the best ones those egoists who worked themselves up in the shortest time possible? Is that their record performance? The simple question about humanity absolutely has to be asked again. Thus: what is a human being?” 

2. Have a laugh,will you!

Nothing worse than art criticism that is too serious about everything, including itself. Dorothy Parker is not alive anymore, but her sharp wit is timeless. She said things one wasn't supposed to be saying and did so with a great self-humor. Let me quote from Dorothy Parker. Complete Broadway, 1918-1923: “It’s like this: If they were to come to me tonight as I sit at dinner, and tell me that an amendment had just been added to the constitution prohibiting the performance of the plays of William Shakespeare on any stage, I should politely remark, “Oh, is that so?” and calmly go on eating. For the horrid truth is that Shakespeare on the stage is not for me. I don’t mean to be bigoted about the thing. Some of my best friends heartily and sincerely enjoy Shakespearean performances. But, for me, the plays of Shakespeare in the theatre are as so many helpings of creamed carrots - I know they will do me good and I ought to enjoy them, but I am congenitally unable to.”  

3. Generalise boldly

The most common problem with art criticism is that it tends to stick to the little facts instead of rising above them. Gertrude Stein knew how to make bold statements for the hell of it. She made generalisations in such an absurd way that it totally made sense. My favourite one is how she described her encounter with Ernest Hemingway who, she wrote, “looks like a modern and smells of the museums.”: “I remember very well the impression I had of Hemingway that first afternoon. He was an extraordinarily good-looking young man, twenty-three years old. It was not long after that that everybody was twenty-six. It became the period of being twenty-six. During the next two or three years all the young men were twenty-six years old. It was the right age apparently for that time and place.”  And Gertrude Stein was head-on in her definition about the twentieth century: “So the twentieth century [] is a time when everything cracks, where everything is destroyed, everything isolates itself, it is a more splendid thing than a period where everything follows itself.” 

4. Be Pop

Art writing that keeps to rationality and logic is plain boring - you can do that in academia. Great art writing doesn't follow the trodden paths. It's the result of associative thinking, a mind that puts together things that didn’t belong together and makes it work. That’s the mindset of Craig Shuftan. He doesn’t even care being unreasonable once in a while - feeling unreasonable is actually what made him write his book Hey Nietzsche! Leave Them Kids Alone! in which he jumps back and forth between 20th century rock & roll and 19th century Romanticism. Indeed, Shuftan takes great leaps in time and he does it with ease. And yes, he's not afraid of Pop. As a fan of Andy Warhol I dig writing in which, so to speak, rice and beans are put together with cokes and hamburgers. Craig Shuftan introduces disco into the stuck-up language of art criticism (also called International Art English). And similar to early twentieth-century cultural critics Walter Benjamin and Alfred Döblin, Shuftan makes the genre of art criticism radioactive. Listen to his latest radio program Love In The Nineties

5. Write Poetry

Art critics tend to forget that also the genre of art criticism can be a form of art in itself. Not only content counts, but it’s equally important to play with language. It was Roland Barthes who wrote about the pleasure a text can give to the reader: “The text you write must prove to me that it desires me. This proof exists: it is writing. Writing is: the science of the various blisses of language, its Kama Sutra (this science has but one treatise: writing itself).” An art critic who I admire most for her use of language is Catherine Nichols. I think the exquisite pleasure of reading Nichols’ texts derives from the fact that she knows how to write with both the eye and the ear. A whole paragraph just to proof my point: 

“In stark contrast to its object - the discourse surrounding sound art - and hence the work of Rolf Julius who is widely considered a major exponent of this movement - is quite concerned with finding its feet, in finding legs to stand on. Indeed, approaches to this direction in art, which have radically proliferated since the late 1960s, have a considerable gravity about them. The very act of designating works incorporating the element of sound in some way as sound art affords sound a weight, a significance, which precludes it from being merely one of many elements in a work; it has a tendency to make sound central, all-consuming, and the other elements subservient, peripheral, perhaps even exchangeable. The phenomenon has had philosophers like Adorno worrying over the integrity of the arts and music, art historians and musicologists wondering where they might locate the beginnings and the boundaries of the movement, and artists nervous about the limitations of subsumption into this fluid category.” (Rolf Julius, Für den Blick nach unten, 2007). 

Catherine Nichols writes not so much for magazines or newspapers, but she has left her mark on many catalogues. My last advice: buy them all! Beuys, Die Revolution sind wirBruce Nauman, Ein LesebuchDie Leidenschaften, ein Drama in fünf AktenThe End of the 20th Century. The Best Is Yet To Come. 

December 9, 2014

2015 Prediction Nr. 1: The Boy’s Club Breathes Its Last

I wish art were more like fashion, looking ahead instead of back. While fashion is now busy predicting the trends of 2015, the art world is still going on about the best of 2014. I can’t even remember what I did last week, so I have no other choice than to talk about tomorrow. And I do have a very good feeling about 2015 - I see positive signs for change everywhere. A few of them come in the form of a “last rally”, like this one:

By the end of the year you have to let yourself go once in a while and I did so last Friday in Blain⎢Southern. I got very worked up just reading the press release upon entering the gallery and seeing from the corner of my eye the words VIOLATE ME. That was enough to get me going and I started my feministing with the gallery woman sitting behind the desk, of whom I got only the first name: Marie. Sed Tantum Dic Verbo (Just Say The Word) is curated by Glenn O’Brien and it examines the use of words in art by artists who all have/had a strong relationship to the curator. These are: Jean-Michel Basquiat, Stefan Brüggemann, Dan Colen, Jonah Freeman & Justin Lowe, Charles Gaines, John Giorno, Wayne Gonzales, Douglas Gordon, Brion Gysin, Ray Johnson, Atsushi Kaga, Joseph Kosuth, McDermott & McGough, Jack Pierson, Richard Prince, Rob Pruitt, Ed Ruscha, Tom Sachs, Dash Snow, Lawrence Weiner, Christopher Wool and Aaron Young. That list of names made my blood run cold and so did the short biography on Glenn O’Brien who “wrote monographs on many artists including Jean-Michel Basquiat, Freeman & Lowe, Mark Grotjahn, Richard Prince, Tom Sachs, Keith Sonnier, Dash Snow, Andy Warhol and Christopher Wool.” And then I looked around, searching for more evidence in the exhibit, and of course, one always finds what one is looking for: not only “VIOLATE ME”, but also “SEX CHANGES ROMANCE”, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER”, “I MET MY FIRST GIRL. HER NAME WAS SALLY. WAS THAT A GIRL WAS THAT A GIRL THAT’S WHAT PEOPLE KEPT ASKING” and the nice joke “WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A BAR AND CLITORIS? MOST MEN CAN FIND A BAR.” And yeah, obviously, I didn’t take into account the context in which this art had been made and by whom, but WTF [here is where a blood vessel burst cheering]: the cynical discrimination technique of the boy’s club will find its end in 2015.

McDermott & McGough, The Vilest Way, 2005. Image courtesy Cheim & Read, New York. Photo: Christian Glaeser, September 2014

In the meantime Marie and I were not exactly on the same page about my apocalyptical thinking. She explained to me that none of O’Brien’s women friends would deliver a piece, so the women were to blame, not the curator. When I turned even paler with anger, she told me that there is no problem whatsoever in the art world. Her argument was not the gallery that she works for but another one: Johann König Galerie, which has like 20 female artists and only 4 male artists and that balances out a shows like this one at Blain⎢Southern. Later I checked Johann König’s website and the gallery has 15 female artists and 12 male artists. Great, luckily we now have Johann König to balance out the whole Berlin art scene, for instance galleries like Johnen Galerie that presents 32 male artists and 3 female artists. If we must go in for statistics, here is one on the USA. By the way, this visit to Blain⎢ Southern was not an isolated incident - last Wednesday I noticed that there was only one show of a woman artist in a total of 11 galleries in the Lindenstraße. And I don’t have to pain my memory to remember the shock I got at the Hans Richter show in Martin Gropius Bau, curated by Timothy Benson of LACMA, in which Richter was shown together with his colleagues Moholy-Nagy (no, not Lucia!), Eggeling, Ruttmann, Van Doesburg etc. Same for the period after 1945: Cage, Duchamp, Leger, Ernst. There was a woman who made it onto the wall, Irene Bayer-Hecht, for making a portrait of her husband Herbert Bayer. On top of it, the introduction of the exhibition catalogue was written by the current 5 male directors of Centre Pompidou, LACMA, Martin Gropius, etc.. And Hans Richter worked, so the catalogue introduction stated, with the "who's who" of the 20th century avant-garde: "Hans Arp, John Cage, Jean Cocteau, Marcel Duchamp, Max Ernst, Fernand Leger, Mies van der Rohe, Kurt Schwitters and Tristan Tzara." Amen. 

At the Hans Richter show in Martin Gropius Bau, a little blurry since I was shaken

Not to say that I like womens' shows, especially, as my friend Katharina Raab said, when they are named after the size of a mattress. Last Saturday the exhibition Queensize opened at ME Collectors Room, displaying the works of women artists in the collection. No, I didn’t visit the show, no need to do so. Why do such shows get explicitly promoted as “womens' shows”? Why not act like Blain⎢Southern and bury your head in the sand?  Let me finish with a few don’ts that I gathered during art hopping in 2014 on how to show the work of women artists:

-don’t show women artists together as if they’re handicapped 
-if you happen to curate a show with only women, no need to emphasize it. It just happened to be like that, right, just like it happens to be that some shows are exclusively male. -don’t show the work of a women artist next to that of their male life partner 
-don’t historicize the woman artist by putting early 20th century chairs in front of the exhibit, you don’t do it with Marcel Duchamp either. 

And to end on a positive note: can't wait for The Feminist Utopia Project of 2015.