According to each hit on the first page of a Google search, this installation is "a critique of the future as it has been imagined in the past."
Now, it is an unofficial truth of our century that if you can it find it on the internet, say, ten times, without an impressive-sounding rebuttal from a source somehow associated with a university, it must be true. I find no such rebuttal here, so I guess I'm wasting everyone's time and should, like the good people at Scoop, The Big Idea, CNZ etc, continue my copying and pasting and alert you to the fact that "through an exhaustive investigation of all attempts at social engineering, the artist has conceived the ultimate hybridised ideology for how people should be."
And how should we be? A good question, but not good enough to stump this artist: "Ultimately flawed and yet ultimately perfect" is the answer, and in this spirit Guidance offers us "the true way of the future."
Now, I’m in love with this installation, and I'm not wanting to malign Sarah Jane Parton here, and I really hope she's not responsible for these words, because this to me takes the grand prize in the modern quest for the ultimate write-up betrayal of decent and unpretentious creative work.
What's with all the grandiosity? Why the "exhaustive investigation"? Why the "ultimate hybridised ideology"? Who out there is buying this inanity? Is there one lonely soul who isn't at least glanced, even if not struck, by the ever-so-slight bathos, after such a build-up, of the (yes, I am going to say it) platitudinous "flawed-yet-perfect" line.
Where are we, people?In the land of the made-for-tv-movie? Where we can endlessly rehearse what we never quite found the time for until we should have started knowing better?
Why can't it just be a good bit of art?The funny thing is that I like this work for probably more or less the same reasons that are explored so succinctly in its ubiquitous write-up.
I mean, I didn't myself actually quite notice the research into social engineering that lies behind the work (except, well, this is culture we're dealing with, which kind of engineers socially always, so maybe we're just talking about history anyways), but the congruent strength and fragility, the absurd brilliance of purposefulness that the artist evokes in the video piece is, I would be the first to admit, something like an image of the flawed perfection that we hope to find in ourselves and each other, sometimes even calling it love—but I have a feeling that this has possibly been noticed by someone, once, or maybe twice, prior to last week.
And absolutely, that purposeful absurdity, that genius of fulfillment in possessing, and against the odds somehow making your own, the shabby detritus of your culture's productions; the moment where we lay claim to what alienates us and what we never asked for to begin with—yes, that's in this work. Dignity I think is a word for it.
And it's all so well put together: the sound, the choreography, the lighting, the acting, the actual boxes holding the tvs: hate to say it, but it's a visual feast. It's absolutely beautiful. In part, I want to praise it just for looking so damn good.
I’ve been back twice, and I'll go back again. I actually think I’m slightly addicted to this video piece. It could easily become a kind of daily need: peaceful absorption in sweet sentiment that doesn’t leave me feeling ill.
It is sentimental I think.But that's mitigated somewhat by the slide-show on the other side of the wall. Hardly a show, it consists of only four slides. Here I guess you’d say irony is more free to shake her curls. Four slides, set up for viewing through an old-fashioned projector, with a mat to sit on and lovely, embroidered cushions. Four slides: it’s like those stories of a crucified Santa in some Japanese department store, or, on the
Any chance of some images, Creon? Danae or Sarah Jane might have some.
I take it this installation explores what a desirable 'humanity' should be by focussing on physical appearance, gesture and living environs. That's it? Maybe I've missed some crucial part of the description?
er um, Sooty, you are blaming Derrida for over zealous gallery staff writing fanciful blurbs for shows? Tut tut....There's no connection. Dealer galleries are not university theory departments and most carefully avoid being mistaken for them. I imagine most buyers are not remotely interested in continental theory.
Or are you actually rabbiting on about university galleries? They seem quite reasonable to me...not excessive at all, except perhaps when art history students take over. That depends on what one thinks the role of a university gallery should be. It would be natural that students try and please their teacher and maybe use essay material in a press release...
Or are the villains the 'alternative' spaces? Well they are meant to be experimental, aren't they? That's their job, and taking liberties with language and thinking is part of that brief. Their clients expect it.
I thought the discussion was about writing about the blurb when it doesn't match the work. It's not lazy to use theory if it is applicable to the work. Nothing wrong with being smartarsy or showing off. Artbash needs more such writers.
Clarity might be an issue. An interest in theory doesn't mean clarity has to be abandoned. Depends on how skilled the writer is.
Jeez, John, you have a talent for getting the wrong end of the stick today. Did I say that I thought it was lazy to use theory? Hardly. I said that it might be lazy to review the press release and pretend that continental theory gives one some justification for doing so. It is certainly the action of a smug smartarse to do so.
I should also point out that I am not referring in my comments to the author of the article which started this thread. I think what Creon has written is extremely thoughtful & interesting. It prompted me to chip in with some further thoughts about the relationship between press releases and art exhibitions. Talk about readings and misreadings...
Surely Justin Paton is a clear writer, and a best seller too. I do acknowledge there is a problem in that many art historians/curators don't know how to communicate clearly. They write too densely with no air. They try to say too much too quickly and have no rhythm in their phrasing.
There's Andrew Clifford at Gus Fisher. He's a whizzo wordsmith. A brllliant features writer who is immensely knowledgable, esp on matters aural. Makes me sick with envy.
Also most writers (ie. 99%) need a good editor around the place they can talk with. It's hard to do yourself because you are too close to the text. You need someone who can trim excess ruthlessly, suggest better structures, and spot typos.