You Are Privileged to Witness Just How Brilliant I Am
Omar Kholeif, whose plea for racial favouritism in the arts recently entertained us, is enthused by a project named Unrealised Potential.
The project features,
An expansive collection of proposals from a breadth of contemporary artists, writers, musicians and curators.
And how does it work?
The unproduced ideas are lined up in the first gallery, alongside a set of terms and conditions, whereby visitors are invited to purchase the artist proposals for ‘realisation.’ The setting adopts a similar structure to an auction space, where a red sticker is placed on each idea sold, with the purchasing ‘producer’ being offered two years to realise the project, before it returns to the marketplace.
Isn’t it just wonderful? And so terribly clever. Visitors to the exhibition get,
The opportunity to purchase the right to interpret and realise an artist’s idea.
An artist’s idea. Oh fortune, she smiles upon us. Think of it as a remix, but with no original recording, or demo, or evidence of talent. Apparently, this constitutes,
Critical and, at times, contradictory commentary about the commercialisation of the arts.
And not a cheap and derivative hustle. Why, the very idea.
Some readers may recall the ICA’s Publicness exhibition of 2003, which – in ways never quite specified – “interrogated globalisation” and “notions of the public realm.” The exhibition’s four-page press release promised the thrill of “proposals for projects that may never be realised.” In other words, the artists were so heady in their conceptualism they could short-circuit the tiresome business of actually making or finishing anything, and could instead be acclaimed – and paid – simply for airing “proposals.” One almost had to admire the efficiency. After all, it saved everyone – especially the artists – a great deal of time and trouble. Though you can’t help wondering how the artists would have felt had the audience adopted a similar approach to visiting the ICA: “Let’s not bother going and just pretend we did…”
And lets not forget the non-existent giant flying art banana, a theoretical masterpiece that cost Canadian taxpayers over $130,000 and which, had it materialised, would have said something unflattering about the previous incumbent of the White House. Because, hey, artists are just so goddamned edgy.
But back to Mr Kholeif and his keen curatorial insights:
The very act of potentially encouraging complete ‘amateurs’ to consider the delivery parameters of such creative output offers audiences an insight into the graft and expertise required to produce a successful creative project, while simultaneously reminding them of the risk involved… What is worthy here is this notion of process: audiences are granted the privilege of witnessing the multifarious facets of an artist’s psyche.
You heard the man. It’s a privilege. Well, having climbed the heights of Mount Vanity, let’s bask in the glow of that creative lava stream, shall we?
Doug Fishbone, in There Once Was a Man from Iraq, proposes that a monumental sculpture of Saddam Hussein be re-erected onto the fourth plinth of Trafalgar Square.
An endeavour that would,
Situate the war in Iraq in its place in imperialist history.
And,
Look at the queasy underbelly of the contemporary imperialist project.
Other contributors probe even deeper into the artist’s inner being:
Tim Etchells, in What Your Right Hand is For, puts the audience to the task of producing a show that unearths the masturbatory fantasies of some of the world’s most famous visual artists (including Steve McQueen, Jenny Holzer and Chris Ofili).
As Mr Etchells explains,
Artists’ fantasies – from sex in unusual places to stranger rape, from homosexual threesomes, object penetration and incest to complex consensual gang-bangs – provide a revealing insight into the psychological underbelly of contemporary art practise and into the work of the artists themselves.
At which point, we can only hope that Mr Etchells is having a little fun at the organisers’ expense.
Update:
Ploughing through the 60 or so proposals, what’s interesting is… No, wait. What’s almost interesting is how many of the artists are hedging their bets with irony and piss-taking. For instance, Roisin Byrne proposes a scam involving bar bills, two weeks at a hotel “drinking cheap reproductions of famous French wine” and some guff about “reflexively focused performative play.” Is this meant to be a satirical comment on arts funding? On arts jargon? Is it a dig at the premise of the exhibition? It’s so very hard to care.
Conor McGarrigle ventures further into absurdity, suggesting an exhibition of his own photographs of abandoned single shoes, each labelled with the time and place of its finding. A team of mathematicians would supposedly be employed to analyse this data for a thousand years and thereby deduce the former owner of each shoe and the reason for its abandonment. It’s intentionally stupid and, more to the point, uninteresting.
A series of promotional videos tells us the exhibition is meant to reveal “the mechanics of curating and authorship,” and that the artists are “creating strategies to engage the audience physically, to partake in other artists’ ideas.” Though in truth the effect is insular, cliquey, and doesn’t seem aimed at the public at all. Unless the general public has secretly developed an appetite for flimsy conceptual noodling.
A few of the proposals are banal and apparently serious, the rest are banal and unserious (though not actually funny). Robin Nature-Bold offers to kidnap and imprison “artists who have a habit of making the same old shit over and over again,” while Adele Prince proposes a series of drawn instructions on how to fold a bus ticket. There’s little to suggest the need for “graft and expertise,” let alone aesthetic flair, and little hope of bearing witness to the “multifarious facets of an artist’s psyche.” Thrilling as that prospect is.
In fact, the lingering impression is of cynicism, resignation and fatigued mockery. It all seems rather spent, as if the artists had been painted into a corner by their own assumptions. I suspect few of the participants expect any serious or interesting bids from the public, which renders the project little more than an exercise in self-importance and bad faith. Sort of, “We know it’s crap, you know it’s crap, so let’s just laugh at the fact we all know it’s crap.” Which isn’t an ideal showcase for people hoping to attract sponsorship and taxpayers’ money.
Unrealised Potential is at the Cornerhouse, Manchester, until September 12.
It’s like Kickstarter, minus the sincerity, imagination, and technical skills.
http://www.kickstarter.com/
Excellent, as usual.
But we already have “insight into the psychological underbelly of contemporary art practise”.
It’s narcissism and freeloading.
“while simultaneously reminding them of the risk involved…”
An exhibition were the ‘artists’ risk no time, talent or effort is supposed to show us how risky art is? Doesn’t the fact they got exhibited (and paid) prove the opposite?
That word ‘interrogated’ again. One of those doing words, evocative of tying someone to a chair and giving them a slap around to extract the information in a timely fashion. Appropriated by those that usually apply it to the ‘narrative’ to give an air of something other than the safe, flabby and middle class.
Does it ever appear in this context without that connotation?
Apologies for venting on a personal linguistic bugbear.
Frank,
“That word ‘interrogated’ again.”
Yes, it’s one of those status words that trigger my flimflam alarm. It’s usually rhetorical camouflage. I suppose the idea is to signal the proximity of Deep And Serious Thought while remaining conveniently non-specific. Hence insecure artists can claim to “interrogate” such-and-such without explaining how, and without being obliged to specify what, if anything, has been discovered as a result. It’s rather like how “critical thinking” has come to mean practically the opposite of what it suggests, and generally heralds the regurgitation of someone else’s boilerplate.
“graft and expertise”? That’s an hilariously appropriate typo Kholeif made.
At least there’s not the ‘paradigm’ word.
Hoping for the day when all these pomo frauds are begging on street corners: “Brother can you paradigm?”
I’m all for this. The less space and time the Pretentious Class occupies with their little projects, the better.
Now if we could get them to do this with politics.
“But we already have “insight into the psychological underbelly of contemporary art practise”.
It’s narcissism and freeloading.”
As well as masturbation it appears. (Alas, not in private.)
David, I hope that you follow this useless bastard down like a wounded and smoking Me. 109. Let us celebrate uselessness! Let us open the Bolly to affirm the inability of ‘angry young men’ to finish anything! The reason I dislike the company of ‘creatives’ (musicians excepted) is that all most of them want to talk about is money.
Nothing wrong with that, of course, but an idea should be finished, polished, honed. Most of the crap flying about is little more than graffiti; the energetic and repetitive use of the rattle-can.
Wankers.
@pst314:
I hope that too. But I’m afraid it won’t be a simple swipe. Animals like eels and weasels come to mind.
“Is this meant to be a satirical comment on arts funding? On arts jargon? Is it a dig at the premise of the exhibition? It’s so very hard to care.”
The ‘message’ I got was that the Arts Council should be shut down on Monday morning.
“The ‘message’ I got was that the Arts Council should be shut down on Monday morning.”
Well, if you treat the project as a snapshot of a certain public subsidy-seeking caste, the impression you’re left with isn’t a particularly good one. It’s hard to see how one might look through the proposals and then feel well-disposed towards the people who wrote them. Unless, like Mr Kholeif, you’re part of the same hustle.
When “works” attract reviews like those of Mr Kholief and Lois Klassen, who tells us, “impossibility and failure are as playful and meaningful as the potential for everyone to get involved,” then it’s pretty obvious we’re in the realms of pseudery.
http://whitehotmagazine.com/articles/august-2010-unrealised-potential/2107
The heavy and near-obligatory reliance on textual validation and pseudo-intellectual posturing is rarely a good footing for great art, or competent art, or even a diverting afternoon. Though it may reward the participants’ egos, at least temporarily. Again, the impression given is of an insecure, pretentious and parasitic caste talking to itself about itself.
Which, oddly enough, does not inspire warm feelings.
You’re all coming accross as sad bitter unimagitive boring fools, whose can’t muster any intelligent stand point on this type of work/practise, your tideous arguments are both cliche and retrogressive at best. As Otis Reading sang ‘Actions Speak Louder Than Words’! Don’t harbour bitterness, ignorance and hostility, go out there and present your own work, if you can get off your lazy behinds and prove your worth! You bunch of sheep!
Lol
Sakarya xx
P.s Good luck in your endeavours!
Who let the drunk in?
You naughty cynics. Show some respect. 🙂
Karen, when they show me they can make something beautiful I’ll show them some respect.
RJ, I’m pretty sure Sakarya is being sarcastic…of course it is possible s/he is unaware of this…
@ Sakarya- Spelling needs a bit of work – Otis Redding! I trust that your post was tongue-in-cheek; if it was not, then God help you.
“while Adele Prince proposes a series of drawn instructions on how to fold a bus ticket.”
It sounds like they’re running out of reasons to get handouts.
“It sounds like they’re running out of reasons to get handouts.”
It doesn’t suggest the field is humming with great ideas, no.
Incidentally, Ms Prince’s previous artistic ventures include a “durational performance” at the ANTI Festival of Live Art in Finland. The “performance” involved a forty kilometre walk around Kuopio, complete with Twitter updates on her progress. Gripping stuff.
As a lightener, and a purgative for such claptrap as David points out. A simple juggler, but with a raise the bar attitude.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjHoedoSUXY&feature=player_embedded
That is something real and worthy, devoid of politics or subsidy I suspect, but showing skills beyond what most of us possess. I’d venture to say most unlike those participating in ‘Unrealized Potential’.
H/T… http://www.bookofjoe.com/
OK, that’s what I call “performance art”. Thanks for the link, Luther.
Why are these people so obsessed with interrogating underbellies?
I deeply suspect that “Conor McGarrigle” is an alias…
I have an idea for a piece of performance art which I’d like to call ‘Asking for it’, which features me kicking Omar Kholeif in the plums.
Can I have a subsidy, please?
Ok, so English isn’t my first language, and I typed my last messages from my mobile. But I think the typo on Otis’s name is funny.
I am serious, so God please help me to understand the infantile delusion of this pointless rants, but most of all may she help you – see the light and errors of your ways you inapt fools who like to metaphorically poke yourselves in the eye!
Hugs’n’kisses,
Sakayra
Oh Mr David Thompson I’m posting you a dummy – don’t worry I’ve only used it as a butt plug once;-)
Hugs’n’Kisses,
Sakayra
Sakayra, I think I got some emails from you saying that you wanted to marry me, because you thought I loved God and would be a life-long soul-mate. I’m afraid you’re wrong on both counts, and while I’m sure you’re a wonderful person I’m not going to give you my bank account details either.
Public subsidy of the arts tends to favour good bullshitters, people who talk a good game, over people with the ability and commitment to actually create art.
It also distorts art into a kind of game played between artists and what used to be middle-men, as artists tailor their work to tickle the tastes of the people who give them money. The public don’t come into it, and you end up with gibberish like this: http://thejoinery.org/ .
A friend and I run a monthly stall at a local arts market selling small press, self-published comics by artists from all over Ireland (including ourselves). None of the artists that I know of get public funding. They pay for the materials and printing costs themselves, mainly by having day jobs, and do the work in their spare time. One month we found out that an arts centre round the corner was running a workshop on book arts – book binding, zine making, and generally creating art in book form. Sounded like just our thing, so we went along.
But many of them had no interest in my observations about affordable short-run digital printing and finding ways to get your work seen and read, build an audience, and make a bit of money out of it. What they wanted to know was how to get a grant and get your book into Waterstones. The audiences they were aiming their work at at were funding bodies and book chains – middle-men. The thought of anybody actually reading their work didn’t seem to have crossed their minds.
They’re at it again. Cuts in the Arts Council’s budget threaten the ethnic diversity of poetry, apparently-
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/sep/22/poetry-jeremy-hunt-ethnic-imbalance
The bit I particularly like is when she admits that “the cost of the entire Ten project [a book of poems by ethnic minority poets] was minimal” – if that’s the case, what do you need Arts Council funding for?
“Tackling UK Poetry’s Ethnic Imbalance.”
Two weeks away and you almost start to miss the Guardian’s lamentations.