Before Hindsight

I like Alan (http://www.mynall.co.uk), he knows what he’s doing, and he does it to the best of his skill … which is far better, certainly in terms of discernable talent, than my own painterly skills. I often catch myself wishing I could paint like Alan, and then I have to remind myself that if I could paint like Alan, I might never have moved on to any of the other interesting things I do, like multi-artform improvisation, ritual, psychology and all the rest.

Alan just had an exhibition at the The Meller Merceux Gallery in Witney. He doesn’t get offered exhibitions that often, and given he relies on his art for nearly all his income, I thought I might help publicise it.

The gallery is one of those that likes to invest in their artists. One of their investments is to reframe an artist’s paintings in their “standard” frames – gives a more uniform look, and the punters apparently prefer that. But it’s expensive, so they ask for half the framing costs from the artist. Alan squirmed a little – he’s already spent a lot on frames – but paid up. Later it turned out that what Alan had paid was half the retail framing cost, which, surely by chance, was the same as the wholesale cost that the gallery paid. Not much investment there, then.

The Private View was a bit of a disappointment too: “Yes, of course you can invite anyone you like to come and view the exibition during gallery opening hours … no, we don’t mail out to any kind of address list, people just visit at their convenience”. Oh.

Alan went along on the opening morning to check everything was OK. His pictures were sharing the space with another artist. “That’s interesting, the artist has ripped his canvas, why did he do that?” … “Ah, that was damage in transit from the framer’s” … Hang on a minute … they aren’t exhibiting damaged paintings “as new” are they? Oh yes, they are. And then Alan finds a gurt big scratch across one of his skies.

Any chance the gallery could make a claim on their insurance and pay for the repair of the damage? “No, I’m sorry, that’s not gallery policy”.

Alan has decided not to sue. He’s not convinced a magistrate would value his time in repairing the painting at a level that would be worth the hassle. And he’s not the kind of man that relishes conflict and difficulty. So he just took the paintings home to avoid further damage.

Lucky the gallery hadn’t bothered with any kind of contract.

It’s tough enough being an artist without people like this. Why are we expected [or even expect ourselves] to put up with this kind of stuff, smile sweetly, and not say anything negative? This is s**t, these people are s***s, and it’s not OK.

It’s 3½ years since I last went to London – It seems absurd, living in Oxford, but there we are, that’s how things have panned out. This week had 2 trips planned, one to see an avant-garde poetry performance, the other to take the kids to see the bright lights.

In the event, the poetry trip clashed with partner’s commitments, and getting a baby-sitter at short notice was both practically and financially unfeasible.

London was very mixed. We decided to start out at the Aquarium on the South Bank. Unfortunately, so had the rest of Southern England, and large parts of Eastern Europe and Asia. We queued for about 45 minutes, and found that the inside of the Aquarium was one long queue as well. The kids couldn’t easily get a good view of anything, but I’ve trained them to push in forcefully where required, so they managed. They weren’t very inspired, though. I kept asking my daughter what was in the tank she’d just looked at, and she replied “Just some more fishes, Daddy”. The third time she did this, my son, and the couple in front, all creased up laughing.

It became increasingly claustrophobic, then one little girl panicked and threw up, my daughter started feeling sick, so we headed for the emergency exit … only to find ourselves in another part of the aquarium.

This could be a great conceptual piece – a labyrinth with emergency exits that take you round in circles. Announce that the piece must be evacuated through the emergency exits, and watch everyone going round in circles. Needs a video camera above. Health and safety might be an issue, but probably been done already, anyway.

We managed to get out of the aquarium, to find a queue 500 yards long trailing along the South Bank. Much to my son’s embarrassment we walked down the queue shouting that it was hell and people were throwing up because it was so crowded, but nobody took a blind bit of notice. They just stared into space, lost to the compulsion to consume.

Headed on to Tate Modern – kids never been to a “proper” art gallery/museum before, hoped they might like it.

Miroslaw Balka’s box of darkness in the turbine hall was a hit for everyone. Monumental in scale, simple in conception and design, but not trivial in either experience or content.

Pierre Huyghe’s and Philippe Parreno’s “No ghost, just a shell” inspired my son, but I got bogged down trying to explain the legalities of copyright to my daughter. However, she was particularly taken with “Spatial Concept `Waiting’” by Lucio Fontana – a single rip across an untreated canvas.

I particularly enjoyed Gerhard Richter’s room – patches of colour floating in a void. I’ve never seen his work before. But I was particularly irritated by his reported quote “I’ve got nothing to say, and I’m saying it”. OK, I can appreciate an irritation with the “Artist’s Statement”, but this is just someone sticking two fingers up and saying “I’m famous and I can say and do what I like now, so f*** off”.

Irritated, tired, hungry and waiting for my partner to browse in the shop, I sat down on the floor near the lifts with my son in front of me, inadvertently half-blocking the walkway from lifts to foyer. A woman came along and complained we were blocking the way. I replied “It’s a live art performance, we’re dividing the space and observing how it alters the flux of humanity.” She carried on looking at us, obviously annoyed, and unwilling to walk the extra few feet round us, so I added “It’s entitled F*** You”.

Shortly afterwards I was invited to leave by a Security Guard. As we were on our way out anyway I was able to spare my partner the embarrassment of knowing what had happened, and since she never reads my blog she’ll never know. My son really enjoyed it, though.

Valentines day yesterday. Through my teenage years, Feb 14^th was an annual ordeal. At my boarding school (which was founded on a military ethos) we lived in dormitories, and each morning the dormitory mail was piled on a table. The prevailing culture was for members of the Rugby team, and anyone else who felt they could get away with it, to take the piss out of anyone at any opportunity, and mail provided a daily opportunity for this. Mail on Feb 14^th especially so, and the chief recipients of verbal abuse were those such as myself who were not recipients of any mail.

It’s not that I was particularly ugly, or unpleasant, or unsociable, but I never had the “charisma” that turns a pleasant face into an attractive one.

A few days ago, I received a round-robin email from the Live Art Development Agency appealing for participants in an event. The artist listed a series of required qualities, which included “Charisma”.

I would define charisma as being a quality that inspires people to follow. Collins defines charisma as “a special personal quality or power of an individual making him capable of influencing or inspiring large numbers of people”. Or her, presumably.

Which left me thinking: “Is charisma befitting to an artist?”.

The obvious answer is “Yes – artists must want to influence people, to be followed … there lies the route to success.” However, if one subscribes to the prevailing ethos that audiences might be encouraged to make up their own minds about work they are viewing, then charisma might be a set-back. How can an audience make up their own minds when they’re inspired to slavishly imitate the artist?

From a psychological standpoint, we vilify people who express things that we have, but which we don’t want.

For instance, we all (well, most of us), have little pockets of misery, but they don’t feel good, and we don’t want them. Miserable people, who express this, we push away and marginalise.

Other classes of people who have this “anti-charisma” include the physically disabled, ugly, mentally ill, confused, homeless, poverty-stricken, ignorant, naïve, criminal, self-negating, etc.

What about “charisma”? In this case, we tend to admire people who express things that we don’t have, but which we want. Following my (incomplete) list of anti-charismatic traits above, this includes people who express happiness, physical perfection (e.g. sports champions), beauty, equanimity, certainty, security, wealth, knowledge, wisdom, goodness, self-belief etc.

To reinforce charisma, one can turn to some ritual techniques for asserting authority: formality (e.g. a propensity for formal dress), and an appeal to tradition. Or, if one is inspiring people against authority, then the opposite of these – informality and novelty.

The traits of charisma and anti-charisma are often socially defined. At my school, boys suspected of, or known to have, gay tendencies, were treated particularly badly. In the dining hall, where most kids ate their meals sitting with groups of friends, the gay kids were forced to sit in a corner on their own. Transgressing this custom would usually lead to extreme violence. Oddly for the era, my family background was supportive to minorities who suffered prejudice, so when thrown into this milieu I purposefully acted against it – deciding to keep company with the gay kids … a decision which led to 4 years of anti-charismatic hell.

Of course, the charismatic kids in this milieu were those who expressed exaggerated hetero-sexuality … effectively, those who conformed, and towed the party line.

However, charismatic people are not always swimming with the tide. Bhagwan Rajneesh was one such, who inspired millions of devoted followers, by expressing bliss, certainty, beauty, extreme formality, equanimity, security, knowledge, wisdom and goodness … and latterly even extreme wealth … but who led people into sexual freedom from a sexually repressive society.

Other extreme charismatics from the last 100 years or so include Alistair Crowley, Rudolf Steiner, Adolf Hitler, John Lennon, Winston Churchill, John Kennedy, Sid Vicious, Margaret Thatcher and Tony Blair.

While many Rock musicians are renowned as much for their charisma as their music, and charismatic visual artists certainly sell more paintings, it doesn’t seem to be a quality for which many visual artists are remembered: Google “charismatic artist” and not much comes back.

So, I’ll continue to evade charisma and leave my readers (if, indeed, there are any – [oops, a bit of anticharismatic self-negation there]) with my original question: “Is charisma befitting to an artist?”.

So, I’ve had a great idea for an exhibition. It’s only at the early stages, but this is the broad outline. It’s quite conceptual, containing a lot of allegory – things like a reductionist scientific investigation into something destroys a sense of the sacred, or a quantum approach like Schrodinger’s cat – observing something destroys it, etc.

There will be 50 pieces, representing the approximate number of plant species that become extinct each day as a result of human technological activity.

Each piece will be based on a plant species that some culture somewhere holds as sacred.

The microscopic pollen of each plant will form the main fabric of the exhibition. Pollen being the mobile part of the mechanism that enables flowering plants to reproduce (hence preventing extinction, continuing the sanctity of life), equivalent to our sperms.

Each piece will be 30 cms x 30 cms, reflecting the scale of things – the size of a pollen grain relative to the piece will be approximately the size of the piece relative to an average arts centre.

Each piece will be a square of glass. Mounted at the centre of the square of glass will be a “cover slip” (used for mounting biological samples ready for a light microscope), prepared with a dozen or so pollen grains, and mounted for posterity using the standard transparent resin method.

The glass will be mounted against a background, and framed with a simple frame.

The frame and background will be a uniform colour, and the pieces will be mounted in a gallery space of the same colour.

Thus, the visual aspect of the exhibition can only actually be seen by breaking the pieces and mounting them on a microscope. I think the multiple layers of allegory are clear!

The only question I haven’t answered satisfactorily to myself yet is the colour. I would prefer black, representing the darkness of our ignorance about the world, but I guess one could argue equally well for white, or any other colour.

If it’s such a great idea, why am I not going to do it? Surely, this kind of thing is the perfect way to get “sacred” into contemporary galleries?

The fundamental answer is: “It’s just not me, it’s just not what I’m trying to do.”. Sure, it gives the viewer a little tickle at the back right of their brain, thinking that the art work is invisible unless destroyed (rather like the beautifully folded and tied love letters exhibited by a wonderful artist whose name escapes me). But that’s very different to the events I stage which push people into considering the meanings of ancient myths, their cultural heritage, their place within their community, and within the cosmos as a whole.

In comparison, this would just be a cheap trick for the sake of some column inches in a local paper.

One of my family once told me that although they love painting, they don’t do it because they can’t think of anything to paint. I have the opposite problem, the problem of what not to paint. I’m full of ideas all the time … some good, some bad, some indifferent. I’ve only got 40 years left, that’s about 2000 days of creative time (at current rates) … probably less.

To actually achieve what I want to achieve, I have to be very, very picky about what I actually do. I could waste weeks of time heading down a dead-end for the sake of some good publicity, or for a witty visual joke for the sake of an entry on my CV. But ultimately, that would mean another exciting, inspiring, wonderful event that I would not be doing … Not simply ‘not doing this year … or next year …’, but bluntly, not doing, ever.

Death is a harsh task-master, we are all her slaves whether we realise it or not.

The last post I made, and peoples’ reactions to it, beg several questions.

“Have I given up? Am I really in despair?”.

“What does it mean to be in the ‘best 3%’ of artists?”.

“Why do I want to be listed on Axis anyway?” (See Rob Turner’s comment)

“OK, I’m doing it because I love it, but do I want to achieve anything else while I’m at it?”.

There’s a certain irony in my last post. The danger with irony is that people might take you at face value. Actually, I don’t give a **** whether I’m in the “best 3%” or not, because the question of “best 3%” is utterly irrelevant for anyone trying to break new ground.

I know I’m very good; I don’t need the endorsement of AXIS to support my fragile ego, or affirm my worth. I’ve developed my own process that accords with my motivations and chosen context. That context is ideally suited to putting across my message. I’ve developed novel techniques and uses of materials that solve my construction problems. I’ve developed a strong, instantly recognisable aesthetic which is perfect for my context. I’ve worked with a wide range of other (often highly qualified and sometimes quite well known) artists, both from visual and other art forms, and am respected by my peers. I’ve developed an original coherent theory of my context, the conclusions of which extend the possibilities of my work and set my future direction. I’ve been recognised by the Arts Council with significant funding. I’ve been invited as an occasional lecturer to teach my specialism at a major art college. And, of course, thousands of people have seen my work.

I know many artists who have managed none of this. I know a few artists who have managed most of them, and maybe one other who matches all this. So how does an organisation like AXIS, whose foundation stone is to promote contemporary art and artists, justify turning me down? And how do they have the bare-faced cheek to avoid any communication on the subject?

No, I’m certainly not in despair about my own qualities, potential and future. I am despairing about changing a narrow-minded arts establishment, controlled by the dual forces of conservative academia and the fads of the rich and famous.

Why do I want to be listed on AXIS anyway? Well, the more promotional websites I can get onto the better. I certainly found that linking from ArtSelector (who are doing the radical democratic thing that AXIS set out to do) to my website pushed me up the Google rankings by several pages. It all helps to provide exposure and credibility – something I particularly need, having no art qualifications.

And is it all only for the love of it? No, it certainly isn’t. I’ve had an unusual life, and have an unusual take on the world. UK society specifically, and the globe in general, are in a mess. As artists we all have a response. Some respond by challenging the way people view a piece of paper. My own response is to challenge the way people perceive sanctity, meaning, division of labour, distribution of wealth, and the nature of self (or the self in nature).

Money and fame aren’t at issue. I only want enough money to be able to keep making (Doesn’t it sound easy?!). Fame just turns one into a pawn of the exploitative media machine.

The difficulty with bringing this to any kind of “establishment” is that establishments tend to be made up of individuals who are pretty happy with the way things are. They’re happy to try looking at a piece of paper in a different way, but looking at themselves, and their relationship to society and nature in a different, and often negative way, doesn’t appeal.

This provides me with my reason to keep breathing … and as long as I’m still breathing, I’ll still be following Rob Turner’s entreaty to “make art about whatever you like when you can. And keep pushing it out there”.

I now have an interesting collection of explosive materials in my studio. Waiting for my “Studio Day” while getting on with computer maintenance, washing up, bed time stories, laundry, cooking etc. is almost unbearable!