the art life

Danielle Freakley from The Art Life 2...

Labels: Art Life TV show

Richard Malloy’s head is covered in clay. You can see his teeth behind the moist skein, an image disturbingly reminiscent of Buffalo Bill in Silence of The Lambs. Malloy’s work – on show at Gallery 9 until the end of the month – is a simple suite of four photographs and a video. You’d be no doubt thinking, oh man, not another performance video work, and you’d be right – it is. Malloy stands against a blank background in mid shot, daubing big, gooey blobs of clay onto his face, attempting to add new features. He labours for a long time trying to construct an elephant-like trunk, and later, meld his arm into his torso. The way to watch this piece is to not look at it – look at the framed pictures and think about the creation myths of humans rising from slime, the creepy CSI-like suggestions of facial reconstruction, or perhaps of bodies being excavated from shallow graves... and then move right along. For a field as crowded as body art and performance video, it’s refreshing to see something that demands your attention, and then rewards the effort.

The work in the next room is a bit of a salve after Malloy’s freak show. Grant Beran’s drawings aren’t all that surprising in their style, but they’re very good. Drawing on silver gelatine paper with ink and graphite, Beran’s pictures are scribbly and loose and the way he follows a line reminds you of, ahem, Salvador Dali and Saul Steinberg, two names that don’t get thrown around much these days. Beran himself cites an interesting cocktail of names U-Turn is after Bellini and McMahon, Infobaker is after Max Dupain and Late Night at the Natural History Museum is delightfully after Laurence Aberhart. As Inspector “Dirty” Harry Callaghan remarked at the end of Magnum Force, “Man’s got know his limitations”, so it’s pleasing to see Beran shooting for the stars.


The trip to Gallery 9 was to see Craig Bender’s Repeating Patterns in Nature. Looking at Bender’s work over the last couple of shows has been interesting insight into an artist’s creative progression. The Australian landscape is such a bastard to deal with since it’s all God and rocks. Making art out of it is tricky. An exhibition at Canberra Contemporary Art Space featured work by an artist who had taken photos of Cheviot Beach, the place where Prime Minister Harold Holt drowned [or swam out to meet a waiting Chinese submarine, depending on which version you prefer to believe]. The pictures were completely benign photos of the seaside. According to the artist’s statement it was all about creating interpretation by overlaying what was an otherwise unremarkable sequence of images of a beach with the viewer’s knowledge of the place’s history.

Bender’s past work has ventured along this line of inquiry, with his sequence of images of Belanglo Forest , and while Bender made a better fist of the idea by including small details in his large photos such as small memorial crosses, there was the persistent problem of disappearance. It’s all very well highlighting the interpretative process, but you wonder how this is any different to most pictures. One almost has sympathy for the misguided opinions of people like Christopher Allen who, in his recent review of the Andreas Gursky show for The Australian, made the claim that the further that photography gets away from “truth” [by which he probably means reportage] the less valuable it is. Nah. What we want is for the photographer’s work to be seen to be telling us something, and hopefully to do it with a degree of subtlety. For Bender’s show there are just two big images, one is of a car doing circle work in a field, while on the other wall there’s a giant time lapse photograph of stars leaving circular light trails. The dialogue between these images is simplicity itself, but a fractal kind of simplicity where the micro is reflected in the macro. That it should come in the context of something so quotidian makes it all the more delightful.



Clinton Garofano, untitled : (dead obvious), 2006.
Installation detail. Reverse painting on glass, antique frames.

Clinton Garafano’s show Another Nail in the Coffin at MOP makes a virtue out of a similar sort of plain speaking. Framed in elaborate Black Forest style are two word phrases rendered in spooky, horror movie text: DEAD BORING, DEAD WRONG, DEAD CENTRE, DEAD MEAT, and so on. With weak illumination from individual light sources, the words appear wraith like, a bit like a joke, perhaps even serious. Death stalks the land in the words we speak, says the artist. Fuck me dead.

Garafano’s stated aim is to “explore and the limits and possibilities of written language” and the limits are reached fairly quickly, beyond which is realm of aesthetic regard. The installation of the work is really rather beautiful with nothing extra or unneeded. It is Zen in its simplicity, which is a nice push ‘n’ pull with the Gothic detail of the frames and white on black lettering. Where does this approach come from? Maybe it has something to do with Garafano’s vintage, being in his mid 40s and recently divorced from his long-time commercial dealer, or maybe it’s the Buddhist influence talking, but whatever it is, death comes in a very attractive package. When you compare this installation to the show running in the front room, you see the generational attitude and experience at work.

The front room of MOP is occupied by Sean Rafferty’s Ghost Mountain. Where Garafano’s work is careful and precise, Rafferty’s big installation seems positively maximal, letting all the connections hang loose in a very literal way. The first thing you see of Rafferty’s work is a wall made out of cardboard with little notes, photocopies, photographs and plan drawings of the installation stuck here and there. The impression is that the whole thing is schematic, planned, but ad hoc. This is my process, says the artist. Feel me? Stepping inside the room there are three screens. This being a gallery you’re half expecting a DVD projection, but as your eyes adjust you see that two screens are in fact photographs drawings of a mountain in negative, mounted upside down. Then there’s a screen with an image of a mountain as seen from the front garden of a house somewhere. And the image fades up to the sound of passing traffic, and then fades down again. Repeat. The work has the nagging insistence of a dream, with plenty of suggestion, but not much in the way of definitive explanation. We feel you.

Labels: drawing, installation, photography, reviews

Carrie Miller writes...

The Blue Mountains-based artist Locust Jones is currently producing 20 and 30 metre long artworks on continuous rolls of paper that tread the fault line between traditionaldrawing and painting – work that is both graphic but with a painterly quality achieved through the application of ink by large droppers, horse syringes and bamboo sticks. The work is populated with contemporary figures and events taken from the nightly news that represents a singularly personal response by the artist to contemporary cultural phenomena, captured with a snapshot immediacy that marks the digital age. The result is an intense dose of stream of consciousness, information overload that’s like drug-fucked channel surfing, but with a point.



Your works have the qualities of both drawings and paintings. How do you categorise them or do you think that's a false distinction?

Locust Jones: I think that because I use lots of ink the drawings appear quite painterly. I apply the ink with large droppers (pipettes) and syringes the ink is squeezed out and dribbled onto the paper to make a line. This line is easily blurred and corrupted depending on how hard I squeeze the dropper - that is where the distinction lies. And because I use thick French ink which I have allowed to evaporate the ink becomes more like a painterly medium.

Can you explain the process of working on 30 metre rolls of paper? It must be quite daunting.

LJ: The 30 metre drawing I am working on at present came about through first working on a 10 metre roll as a kind of cathartic process and the success of that first long drawing spurred me on to 20 metre drawings. Recently I was curated into a drawing exhibition so this became a catalyst for making a 30 metre work. I started it on the day of the Mumbai terror attacks in November/December or whenever it was and I am finishing it (4 metres left to go) with the destruction of Gaza by Israel, so it has taken approximately 2 months to make, however I completed the first 15 metres in 2 weeks. I roll out the paper 2-4 meters at a time, so it’s not so daunting - it becomes a kind of diarist process and is in some ways quite methodical. It’s like a chronology of events as they take place.



One of your recent works was inspired, as you say, by your response to the "Mumbai massacre". Does your work generally start as a response to political events or cultural phenomena generally?

LJ: Yes, my work usually does start with a response to some media event I witness, read or watch. I also subscribe to various international journals and papers so I take a lot of what I read and see from these as well as Internet sources and some national broadsheets.



Even though the subject matter is recognisable the works seem quite personal – like you're trying to make sense of cultural events as you go along. Is this perhaps to do with the fact that you are responding in such an immediate way to things that concern you?

LJ: Yes, that’s correct. Funny because the title for my 30 metre work is “Making sense of senselessness”, and you have just asked me this question about trying to make sense of cultural events as I go along. I tend to work straight off the bat so yes, I am responding in an immediate way to the images on the television, Internet, magazines or journals that I use as inspiration, kind of like a Mass Media Regurgitator and when an image excites or angers me or I feel quite strongly about a certain war or innocent lives lost then I will respond with a lot more aggression and violence than what I would if I were merely rendering in ink a politician or lunar space module, and a lot of my feelings and personal stuff get caught up in the process and this makes for a jumble of images and text which might appear confusing but I feel all the better for laying it out. At least it might help when people look at the work, and are reminded of the horrors of Gaza, Mumbai, Somalia, Congo, Rwanda, Zimbabwe before they are assaulted by the next wave of media hysteria.

You deal with overtly political subject matter in some of your works but the works themselves don't seem to be overtly political statements. Do you consider yourself a political artist in whatever sense that may mean to you?

LJ: I respond to the global political climate by rendering images and captions I read and see in ink and graphite mostly. I don't know if that makes me a “political” artist. I do it because I am interested or repelled or disturbed by what I see. The more disturbing the image the more I want to draw it and by laying all these disturbing, sad, depressing, hopeless images down I think I am unconsciously looking for some hope in the hopelessness of what I see.

Labels: Carrie Miller, drawing, interviews, painting

Ben Rak, Father, 2008.
Screenprint 80x120cm.
"Hi. Please consider my latest works for your 'New Work Friday' section. In a world where change is relentless, marketing has to re-invent itself regularly. Understanding your consumer is about delving into their emotional, spiritual and psychological needs; anticipating future behaviours- targeting the heart. Emotional consumption rules the day. Consumption is driven by emotional responses rather than well-thought out rational decisions. In my series Life With the Everybodies I'm exploring the cliches of consumption patterns in different family demographics. For each member of the family (Mother, Father, Son, Daughter, pet) I create patterns from logos of brands that they typicaly use or aim for as status symbols. I try to use ironic humor to demonstrate the human need to become homogenous with the groups we associate with - Ben Rak."

Got new work you'd like to share? Send images and a description or statement about your work to thearlife at hot mail dot com. Images should be no larger than 350k each.

Labels: new work

Clinton Garofano, untitled : (dead obvious), 2006.
installation detail. reverse painting on glass, antique frames.



Another nail in the coffin is part of an ongoing investigation exploring the limits and possibilities of written language. Drawing on source material from contemporary culture, from horror films to comic models, and from the traditions of Buddhism, Clinton Garofano reflects on the numbing effect that death has had on his voice as an artist. Garofano is interested in renegotiating the perception of dying and the language used to describe death by reinterpreting existing Tibetan Buddhist teachings and texts, and finding relevance within a contemporary context. His work untitled : (dead boring) 2008, fuses language and objects, taking the form of a number of texts painted on glass in 18th and 19th century frames, hung on coffin nails. Clinton Garofano is a Sydney based artist.



Image: Ghost Mountain, video still, 2008


“Long after the firefly had disappeared, the trail of its light remained inside me, its pale, faint glow hovering on and on in the thick darkness behind my eyelids like a lost soul.
More than once I tried stretching my hand out in the dark. My fingers touched nothing. The faint glow remained, just beyond my grasp.”- Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood.

Appearing intermittently in this exhibition as a luminous projected image, Ghost Mountain is in fact the Cooley Mountains, or the tall and rocky hills visible from the garden in front of my Grandmother’s house in Ireland. Over the course of my life I have looked upon these mountains with some mystery and wonder. Often shrouded in mist and cloud they appear in such myths and legends as Cúchulainn, and were home to criminals and terrorists during the troubles in Northern Ireland, to which they lie immediately south. We are warned away from them by my Grandmother who insists evil still lurks among them. Like Murakami’s firefly they remain etched onto my visual memory and ghost there, fading over time. Ghost Mountain’s after-image or ‘ghost’ appears in the darkened moments between its projections.

Coupled with pencil drawings that copy landscapes of Australia as depicted in film, Ghost Mountain is an attempt to understand the significance of imagery from places in the “faint glow” of my memory, where the photographic transferral of experience and the experience of actually ‘being there’ intersect.

MOP Projects Thursday – Saturday 1 – 6 pm Sunday & Monday 1 – 5 pm
2 / 39 Abercrombie Street Chippendale Sydney NSW 2008
Ph: 02 9699 3955 E-mail: mop@mop.org.au www.mop.org.au






Seen and Heard is a festival focused on the works in film by women in response to long-lasting prejudices against women in the film industry. While there are as many women studying film as there are men, women continually have been an underdog in cinema production.

During the 81 years the Academy Awards have been given, only three women have been nominated for best direction with none of them having won, no women nominated for best cinematography and during Australia's film history, there has been 46 years between productions made by women. In addition to all this, women's overall participation in film has gone into decline in recent years, from 19% in 2001 to 16% in 2004.

In its first year, audiences are invited to bear witness to the extraordinary visions of Indigenous and white Australian filmmakers, exploring race relations in Australia, gender, sexuality and class politics, disability and ability.

The festival is a free, not-for-profit event and will feature afternoon teas and evening screenings throughout early January.

http://www.seenandheardfilms.com/

Labels: cinema, exhibitions, press releases

I'll remember 2008 as the year...

I liked a Biennale of Sydney 14% 18

When I thought spending big bucks on art was a good idea 8% 10

When I finally swore off getting pissed at openings 10% 13

I wasn't asked to curate Primavera 8% 10

I am a robot 5% 6

I realised it wasn't all about me, or you 8% 10

I realised I liked all the attention of having a solo show 3% 4

When I came to respect the work of curators 4% 5

I didn't read a single SMH art review 30% 39

Renny Kodgers looked deep into my eyes 13% 17

132 votes total

Labels: 2008, poll