Ether Magazine
I spoke with Katie Binns for the Ether Radio Broadcast on Orange Radio about the Intercultural Art Education project.
Wien Art Fair-Vienna
Wien art fair allowed the CEE countries to ruffle their feathers. So as a gesture of cross-polination the museums came out to play at the Kunsthalle Wien, reveals the synthesis between Shintoism, globalisation, ecological and economic concerns, mythology, materialism and how that can be metamorphosed. The large ship wreck is enabling people to become aware of the transience of materialism. Using authentic materials, heightens our awareness of the mechanics of the construction of reality. Blending with barnacles that cling to the wreck, there is a sense of the strength of nature to live beyond any human construction. Passing into the third room, there is a real wit as a mythological creature writhes in a blue space chasing their tail. A human weakness polarised through fantasy. Below sketching are encased within sea enemies that are seemingly breathing like a fish's gills. Gerald Matt's curating manages to create a rich metonymy between all the facets of Barney's art. The density of his lifelike sculptures penetrate the extensive Kunsthalle space. The sketching, framed like tiny shells on the wall are positioned so that the spectator peers, with their eyes in such a way that one feels like looking out of a porthole window of a ship at the great Moby Dick being speared to it's death. The organic creatures writhe above you in a aquamarine blue, contradicting our perception of sea-creatures being down below, heightening our perception to a mythical beyond that knows no space or time. The smell of coral and sea greets you in the last room, we are met with a melanomas sculpture crafted with shrimps, rose quartz, coral and wax, morphs along the floor. In the corner stands a Japanese figure, grasping hold of the black rubber tube, severed and hanging in his grasp. He stands wild white and red hair wispy from him and staring back at you through a distorted Kabuki like mask, smudged and 'inauthentic'. The finale: a composed scene revealing a ship in all it's functional glory. The regimented figures perform their nautical ritual in uniformed complicity. The circle is complete. I'm reminded, one last time of the ultimate construction and deconstruction in every matter. At the exit hangs a panoply of books: sculpture anthologies, performance art essays, a novel of Merville's Moby Dick. "We're closed!" comes the abrupt int ejection as I was just getting into The Whale.
Freedom
I am the beauty in oneself radiating in another
I am the sunflower that climbs towards the sun
I am the page that blows lightly in the soft, Summer breeze
I am the petal that lands delicately upon her knee
I am the child running bear foot, on hard wet sand
I am the broken wave retreating from the shore
I am the smooth pebble that skips across the water
I am the girl cycling, "no hands"! head up to the sky
I am the joy inside I feel from your love
I am the incandescent moon dancing upon midnight waters
I am the sand beneath my feet
I am the darkness, ebbing further into night
I am the daybreak across the painted desert
I am the last tear of longing before I feel that this is love inside of me.
Created at Vienna Lit festival Pesach 2008 with Romy Smith. The theme of the workshop was "Freedom", her point of reference was to the colonialist's and slave trade. It was by shear synchronicity that this fell a few hours the before the first Seder of Pesach that at it's essence, celebrates Freedom. This revealed how Freedom is not for these people or that people, but for the whole of humanity-it is a human right.
I am the sunflower that climbs towards the sun
I am the page that blows lightly in the soft, Summer breeze
I am the petal that lands delicately upon her knee
I am the child running bear foot, on hard wet sand
I am the broken wave retreating from the shore
I am the smooth pebble that skips across the water
I am the girl cycling, "no hands"! head up to the sky
I am the joy inside I feel from your love
I am the incandescent moon dancing upon midnight waters
I am the sand beneath my feet
I am the darkness, ebbing further into night
I am the daybreak across the painted desert
I am the last tear of longing before I feel that this is love inside of me.
Created at Vienna Lit festival Pesach 2008 with Romy Smith. The theme of the workshop was "Freedom", her point of reference was to the colonialist's and slave trade. It was by shear synchronicity that this fell a few hours the before the first Seder of Pesach that at it's essence, celebrates Freedom. This revealed how Freedom is not for these people or that people, but for the whole of humanity-it is a human right.
Seeing Lhasa
Seeing Lhasa exhibition, Pitt Rivers(copyright PRM)
For the Seeing Lhasa project, as a team of Visual Anthropology students we transferred 1930’s colour cine flex footage onto Macintosh. We then edited the digitized footage onto a DVD-loop that was subsequently displayed amongst vintage photographs taken from that period. I mediated between web, curator, academic and administrative departments for editorial and aesthetic judgment. Dr. Claire Harris oversaw the project.
Latin nights
The door to the lift was stuck. Anoushka yanked it open and stepped inside the musty cabin. "1, 2, 3.." she read the white letters printed on faded, black painted wood. She pressed in the number four button and the lift awoke itself and began lifting upwards. Suddenly, it jolted and came to a halt. She went to press the ivory number four button, only to be thrown back onto the seat. It creaked towards the top of Seventy Lange Gasse as she held onto the faded, tapestry seat.
The apartment door had been left ajar. As she slipped inside, she could hear the echo of their bellowing voices in the kitchen. She saluted to the old master, hung gigantically in the hall, past the Klimt sketching and into the kitchen. Robert had a gentle presence that was suddenly made energetic by his cuisine compardre. "No, Not like that!" he exclaimed "Here, wear this glove" Robert threw a white oven glove at Carlos. Carlos was vigorously grating a large block of Parmesan cheese while he elaborated on cultural conflicts of his most recent Argentinian concert tour to China.
"The Morans don't get it that they need to see the concert details now for next Spring not, two weeks before the event. Their laziness is insatiable!" he exclaims, oblivious to the fact he himself is an Argentinian and that the oven glove that has landed, beside him, on the table.The apartment door had been left ajar. As she slipped inside, she could hear the echo of their bellowing voices in the kitchen. She saluted to the old master, hung gigantically in the hall, past the Klimt sketching and into the kitchen. Robert had a gentle presence that was suddenly made energetic by his cuisine compardre. "No, Not like that!" he exclaimed "Here, wear this glove" Robert threw a white oven glove at Carlos. Carlos was vigorously grating a large block of Parmesan cheese while he elaborated on cultural conflicts of his most recent Argentinian concert tour to China.
"Put that on!" Robert exclaims, his eyes getting wider as if the pungent, flaky cheese were those very Argentinians.
"..and they don't even understand they have to be there a week before, so that the formalities can commence, can't they just see beyond their lazy little shell" he exclaims scratching his belly."Glove!"
Robert picks it up and hits him with it.
"It's ok, it's ok!"
"It's not you I'm worried about, I don't want blood in my cheese."
Anoushka giggled at such brotherly love. Carlos was a tall man with, unlike Robert, a strong presence that seemed to dominate the room. His large belly stuck proudly out, stretching his silver shirt to a point near bursting.
"Can you call my darling from her cave?" Robert lightly requested to Anou and gestured, with a flamboyant hand wave only Robert was capable of pulling-off without it seeming ridiculous. Anou left the compardre's to figure out the simple meal of spaghetti carbonara for themselves.
Anou glided through the hallway, and felt quite elegant passing the exquisite artifacts. She glanced momentarily at the Japanese cloisonne vase, and smiled wryly at the cute "ty" from China flopping ironically out of it's rim.
As she neared the back of the apartment, she could smell the faint whiff of menthol cigarettes and could hear musings in Italian. Anou stopped at the entrance of the study. She held back her breathe as she looked at the sight. It was covered in paintings and books. The energy from such a vast collection of artistic knowledge, seem to pulsate and invigorate the room. There was not an inch of wall that was left uncovered and at the very end, a statuesque woman sat with striking blonde hair that glows and infuses the density of the room. "Diner's ready" Anoushka said almost inaudibly. Without turning, Susanna waved her cigarette and continued her Italian musings to the computer screen. Anou hesitated a moment, and then left the room.
"She's coming..", Anou said tentatively as she walked back into the kitchen. Robert was firmly asking Carlos to turn and watch the clock, so that he could get the pasta Al Dente to perfection.
"Oui" Robert sighed as he swiftly took the wooden spoons from Anou's grasp. "Just as I thought'' and started to lightly, but firmly toss the salad that was limping beneath her efforts.
"You know, I am becoming her slave" he sighs gesturing to Anou to take the spoons and follow by example "I awake every morning and squeeze half a pint of fresh juice for beautiful Susanne, only to have her disappear into the realms of Titian or Rubens or Goya..Michelangelo...." he tailors off and mumbles "How can a man compete?"
"Darling....bottle of wine...would you? I just finished the last of the Riesling" Susanna has glided into the room and is already assessing the frantic attempts of the two compardres to make dinner. Robert, immediately reaches for a chilled bottle and begins to open it. Anoushka, who is trying hard to be invisible busies herself by finding the cutlery.
"Al Dente!" Robert screeches "You weren't watching the clock you fool!" He exclaims to Carlos who is sucking his finger that has caught, in the midst of grating 'The Moronic Argentinan's" oblivious to Robert's demands. Suddenly, Anoushka is pushed aside by the chilled wine bottle as Robert lurches towards the spaghetti, like it's his baby on fire. Anou looks to Susanna, who rolls her eyes and stubs out her cigarette before placing her arm around an astonished Anou.
"Now Babino, how's your Deutsch?". Susanna glides her out the kitchen and leaves them, frenetic, catering to their needs.
Heart and mind blend together as one entity. Slowly letting go of fear to step into the unknown. She sees the spark of future in his eyes. Delicately, a prism rainbow of light dances across the wall. Distance, creates a frustrating absence that refuses subside. She delves into her passion, words, for comfort. Can she trust a closeness that is both ephemeral and real, spiritual and loving. She knows that there is a mission in her life that she must create, that is bigger than her, where history is re-dressed. Irresolute, in her actions towards him for want to save this grace, occurrence and future vision intensifies through mastery. She realises that only by manifesting her inner passions in her outside world will this partner can be in unison with her. A life will come to a sharp peak through such a partnership-how can she manifest whilst creating and sustaining such a union.
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