Posts Tagged ‘Cullinan Richards’

Blackpaint 256

March 1, 2011

British Art Show 7 (Hayward) continued – a bit

Olivia Plender – One of those things where a fictional person or story is fabricated and developed; this one is a film director.  Posters, interviews with “colleagues”, autobiographical details, filmography… clever but irritating.

Mick Peters – an architect’s table (cheated, and read the notes), supporting a couple – or maybe just one – of those huge, two man lumberjack saws, painted bright red and rendered “soft”, like Dali’s watches or Oldenberg’s stuff.

Karla Black – A squared-off-at the top pyramid of earth, Aztec rather that Egyptian, with bits and pieces of -coloured plastic (?)  littering the top.  something to do with the brain, I remember.

Drawings/paintings of pseudo-mechanical structures in bright red on off-white paper.  I liked these, but didn’t get name of artist.  If it’s you, please comment and let me know.

Becky Beasley – 6 (I think) enormous photos of the same two interlocking pieces of iron pyrites, taken from different angles.

Matthew Darbyshire – an open-plan room in pinks, with sofas, soft furnishings and lampshades.

Maaike Schoorel – What at first look like plain white paintings, prove to have very faint figures drawn on them with a brush.  Similar – ish idea to the Portuguese artist in the Tate Modern, who erases big tracts of his paintings; I can’t remember his name (rather appropriately, really).

That’s it – for my money, Cullinan Richards, Christian Marclay, Phoebe Unwin and Charles Avery are the most interesting.  I’d have liked to see the naked man on the burning bench, though.

The Man from London, Bela Tarr

Tarkovsky’s Solaris was once memorably described as “stately paced” in a Time Out review (maybe it was City Limits, come to think of it).  This description also fits Tarr’s film, based on a Simenon story.  Black and white, harbour, ferry, night time, rain, steam, trains, gantry, signal box, silent, brooding men, suitcases, fag smoke, spirits, glimmering lights, darkness slowly lightening… There’s a murder, maybe two, interminable scenes in a dockside bar, a reptilian British detective grinding out sentences with interminable gaps (the voice is Edward Fox’s), Tilda Swinton doing woman on the edge – the angular mouth; and interminable accordian music.  Tarr lingers on details at the end of scenes until it becomes annoying – and then a little while longer.  In one scene, a man brings a huge fish from the cold store of a shop and begins to chop it up.  You think – that’s 48 slices, surely no more?  But yes, there’s always more…

Fabulous film, actually, must now get the other two available.

Blackpaint

01.03.11

Blackpaint 255

February 27, 2011

British Art Show 7 (cont.)

Christian Marclay – Clever, funny exhibit; film clips featuring clocks, watches, people saying what the time is – corresponding to real time. Just ponder for a moment the amount of research required to assemble 24 hours worth of such footage.  I wondered if he maybe used stock footage of clocks to cut away to, but if so, it’s done seamlessly. I recognised two films in the 10 minutes we watched – “The Talented Mr. Ripley” and “3 Days of the Condor”.  Sometimes the segues were amusing – if that was not accidental, then it’s one more thing that he must have edited for and therefore an even more staggering achievement.

To what purpose, though?  It put me in mind of that Fischli and Weiss exhibit at the Tate Modern – in the basement now, no doubt – where all the bits and pieces were artificial, sculpted out of polyurethane or something to look absolutely real – when you could have got the real things and assembled them with no effort at all.  The point is the huge pointlessness; vast effort to raise a small smile.  Quite profound really; read Ecclesiastes.

Sohei Nishino has made a panorama of London by taking 10,000 photographs, selecting 4,000 and cutting and pasting them together, thereby getting a crude, reconstructed version.  Sort of the opposite to F and W; making something new and imperfect to contrast with the usual panorama.  Can’t help feeling that the expenditure of effort puts this somehow in the Marclay – F and W field,though.

George Shaw – Huge versions of his sinister and depressing (I use the words admiringly) Humbrol shedscapes.  One, a bulldozed tract of pulverised dirt pent up by metal caging, another of a dark, deserted recreation ground; you get that sinking stomach feeling looking at them.

Wolfgang Tillmans – Another beautiful, huge, inkjet picture, the spidery threads of pigment opening like some sea anemone; unfortunately, it’s emerald green.  Can’t stand the colour.  Also, glazed cabinets displaying magazine pages, articles, cheesy adverts,  plastic surgery, facial mutilation, material on sexism… Bit like clearing up Bacon’s studio floor and bunging the stuff in glass cases.

Cullinan Richards – Occupying the stairwell, newspapers with tarry black slash markings,  picture in rough white of a horse and rider at full vertical gallop up the central shaft; I loved this, first I thought a little like Baselitz, but this morning, found another rough white horse, tilted at an odd angle – this one in the Per Kirkeby catalogue.

Milena Dragicevic – Distorted and surrealised (I know it isn’t a proper word, but it should be) women’s faces, one for example with huge, red, letter box lips.  Echoes of Marlene Dumas.

Sarah Lucas – Hans Bellmer-ish sculptures made from stockings or tights stuffed like sausages, looped and knotted in swollen, intestinal bundles; organised in rather obscene ballet on top of pedestals.  Clever and striking but unlikeable, as if that matters.

Alasdair Gray – the Lanark author; clean, meticulous, pastel coloured drawings of family, domestic life…

Vaida Caivano – Four abstract oils, small, dun colours, thin and threadbare, drily painted.  Not as rich as the ones in the Victoria Miro Gallery, unfortunately.  Unusually for this exhibition, they were all “Untitled”.

Apart from the Marclay, we didn’t watch any of the video installations – the heavy black curtaining was mildly disgusting, as was the chemical smell in the theatres.

Few more exhibits tomorrow, plus a review of Bela Tarr’s “Man from London” – Bela Tarr, Tarkovsky’s less compromising brother director…

Exterminating Angel

Sorry – old picture; camera batteries exhausted.  New one tomorrow.

Blackpaint

26.02.11