Tuesday, 25 May 2010

I don't want to produce a quirk that I then call an artwork, that they then call a farce.

Art

Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.Words.
I think I'd say fuck contemporary art because it is in all means a little bitch that knows its place is but a culmination of the regression of intelligent thought. It masters nothing, but constructs a vastness that excludes any real creation, in the hands of the artist, rather than the allowance of the elite to allow the unknowing folk who they now cater for, a feast of information, but a lack of knowledge. "I have seen" replaces "I now know" and we do not criticise this, for the sake that we may be unknown ourselves.

Why would they think my ego is small?


Tate

A comment is apparently art. The content is simple narcissism.
To a world which knows not its place, but culminates incessantly upon itself for the sake of only, whole heartily itself. No voice will be heard, now script is gold, it is worth, the only worth, a fabric though, of petulant girth. You need not hear the sound of a comment as it drops like destruction, the vision is just, if only a crutch. We, the petty, we the nostalgic, we the unified bric-a-brac of timeless ease, bear not the burden that we should but become the family of Gods most timeless sleaze. How then does the Godless trend, remove itself for the likeness spent, yet unrepentant to mend, nor the ungrateful repent.. Make art for the goal, not the gala. Live life for the weight, not the time. A Manifesto infested with night and with day, proved the outcome we have not meant, which we the unspoken, would not dare not say.
We will all be famous, looking at the few who are unknown like the icons we are not.

Sunday, 16 May 2010

Presentation - Final

(Note:- That which is in black and white would have been conducted as a performance during the full video that exists in sepia. B&W was added later)

I couldn't decide how best to convey what I wanted to say without sounding like I was presenting answers. I was not and am not. The importance of the question far out weighs that of the answer. Questions are the only genuine aspect. Answers may produce pain or happiness, but it is the question which gives root to all. Hence, the audio track was recorded on a phone at 4am as if it were a conversation with a friend. I wanted to exclued the formalities of a presentation, and not premeditate what I wanted to say, but rather, to allow what needed to be said to flow naturally.

(Paul and Ken:- again, sorry for not being able to get this together. Because I was working all weekend it took me this long to get this up. Had to re-edit it so the performance aspect was still there. It was important to me not to actually address the group vocally, so their attention was directed to the screen, and that I became a part of that voiceless crowd.)

Monday, 10 May 2010

To do this, I need to channel which exists inside my head, but with work, not with words.

What I don't fully understand to any real degree is why 'small' ideas are not worthy of creation, and are but a means to the all important 'big' idea. Just a constant stream of explanation and worthless opinions that build right into the sky so in the end they can bend over infinitely and stare up its own accumulated arse.
Life is the culmination of a series of questions, and depending upon the answer that you find very early on, it may set a precedent in relation to the future ability or desire to ask questions. The importance of the question verses the answer was a naive question in itself, but a prime example of the inability to find a concrete answer if you know that you will be unsatisfied. There is no right or wrong, only opinion and preference. Speaking entirely in an academic sense, this is not a statement to incite or anger, but simply the idea that everything is built on questions, but given meaning to by the answer, potentially not even in as much the resolute end, but of the course (the initial question) which perceived the notion that the question would lead to the answer, thus governing more significance to itself, rather than being mastered by the affirmed answer. In this project I've learned briefly some things, nice bar chat and a few facts and what not, but I've gained nothing and will be left with the same when I delete this blog. This ridiculous bin of contemptuously loose opinion.





Ending a process

I've not known how to partner the Research Book and the Blog. To be honest, I think it is one or the other - for myself at least, I cannot use both. Not for, what seems to be the same purpose, to accumulate information and opinion, both primary and secondary, resulting in a body of research which culminates in an idea. It seems elitist, in theory anyway, that for a 3 week period I will use "small" ideas to build a "large" idea. The imagination shouldnt be provoked in that sense. I genuinly do not like Anish Kapoors work, but at the start of this project I automatically decided on fantasy and the impossible. I think its frustrating at this stage to ask art students who have not the means nor ability to create something "ambitious in both scale and intentension" and claim that it is benefitial for artistic progression. I just think the whole notion is barren. Most people with a heathy imagination think big, from day dreams of a perfect life, appearence etc. but there is destruction in that. I'm not saying that everyone should, at the first possible chance cease to imagine and focus on the reality, because the imagination is reality in its infant state. It might be self destructive to have chosen the final idea that I have, it might even be hypocritical, but I will never make it. It exists entirely in fantasy, and is not only untangable, but uninspired. I never want to 'make' something that I have not created. Not from any pretentious angle, or personal opposition to those who do, but for myself, at this very moment, the significance of being allowed to 'think' something that I cannot wholly credit to the transferrence of my imagination to my craft through to my art is not a stimulating idea at all.

Q&A


Questions are to knowledge as consumption is to glutons.

Not right or left, but inbetween. That is where experience exists. It is experience that binds the question to the answer. Nothing is static, at least nothing which you will to move. Knowledge is a cliche of a river, or a mountain, it is both large and small.

Tuesday, 4 May 2010

76th in the 100 Great Britons poll

BENEATH THIS STONE RESTS THE BODYOF A BRITISH WARRIORUNKNOWN BY NAME OR RANKBROUGHT FROM FRANCE TO LIE AMONGTHE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS OF THE LANDAND BURIED HERE ON ARMISTICE DAY11 NOV: 1920, IN THE PRESENCE OFHIS MAJESTY KING GEORGE VHIS MINISTERS OF STATETHE CHIEFS OF HIS FORCESAND A VAST CONCOURSE OF THE NATION
THUS ARE COMMEMORATED THE MANYMULTITUDES WHO DURING THE GREATWAR OF 1914 - 1918 GAVE THE MOST THATMAN CAN GIVE LIFE ITSELFFOR GODFOR KING AND COUNTRYFOR LOVED ONES HOME AND EMPIREFOR THE SACRED CAUSE OF JUSTICE ANDTHE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD
THEY BURIED HIM AMONG THE KINGS BECAUSE HEHAD DONE GOOD TOWARD GOD AND TOWARDHIS HOUSE



Arrangements were placed in the hands of Lord Curzon of Kedleston who prepared in committee the service and location. Suitable remains were exhumed from various battlefields and brought to the chapel at Ste Pol near Arras, France on the night of 7 November 1920. Brigadier General L.J. Wyatt and Lieutenant Colonel E.A.S. Gell of the Directorate of Graves Registration and Enquiries went into the chapel alone. The remains were on stretchers each covered by Union Flags: the two officers did not know from which battlefield any individual body had come. General Wyatt with closed eyes rested his hand on one of the bodies. The two officers placed the body in a plain coffin and sealed it. The other bodies were then taken away for reburial.

One monument stands to honour every death which goes unhonoured.

I am not saying that monuments are a bad thing, but they assume often a singular amount of importance upon an individual, which, in matters of 'greatness' is not often so. One man cannot win a war, a poet can't ahcive sucess if poeple are not listening, a politician cannot attempt change if they've not the votes.

Sunday, 2 May 2010

Everyone in Glasgow







Where's Wally?

In the picture. For a while this has been in my mind, but I forgot the name of it. There isnt really a simpler way of explaining it; this is my project. I want to paint all of Glasgow and invite people to climb to the top of the monument to find themselves.

It has gotten too confusing, when it's really quite simple. Children are monuments, when bronze will not be cast. Poems, sculptures, paintings, wars are all monuments. A person is not a monument. Monuments are static they do not move. They exist to preserve and remember. People say that memory is the curse of the living, for it cannot forget the past.

I'm tired of saying to much, and tired of not building anything. I feel like I've had forty-odd conversations with myself and I wasn't listening at all. This is not how inspiration should be recorded. This isn't real.
A friend of mine went on the Somme & Ypres WW1 Battlefield tour last year and the tour guide told him a story that basically goes as follows:- a company were making an advance over no-mans land towards the German bunker, the Captain then decided for some reason, owing probably to a miscalculation, to retreat back to their own side. As they did this they were still being followed by heavy floods of German bullets and the British were losing as many men killed in the back as they did in the front. A young solider on his way back found his friend in the mud, who was wounded, but not dead. He picked him up and carried him on his back all the way to their bunker. Just as he approached the edge a bullet caught his leg and he fell. The Captain pulled him by his tunic and he fell into the bunker, with his friend still on his back. Both the soldier and Captain were decorated for this act, yet because of the Captains rank, his decoration was of a higher level than the soldiers, despite the more heroic actions being the soldiers own.