Published February 23, 2010 by aanews
Published February 10, 2010 by aanews
From the Press Release:
t is often merely a few objects Jason Dodge sets into relation with a title in order to suggest an obscure story. His works seem rudimentary, incomplete, yet the combination of every day objects, materials that appear in fairy tales such as silver, a diamond, a golden ring or hemlock which immediately evokes the cup lead the viewer into a tightly knit web of allusions. Its denouement, however, always lies in the past or can only take place in the viewer’s imagination.
Those objects appearing as „leftovers“ and indications are always subjected to the artist’s careful aesthetic choice. With every story he tells, Jason Dodge places a piece of art in the space. This combination of concept and sensuality creates the field of poetic tension between a fairy tale’s narrative structure and the question of the consummate piece of art in which Jason Dodge’s works are positioned.
Jason Dodge’s works can be compared to the act of reading. Just as novels or poems evoke certain ideas in the reader the remaining objects are fragments of possible narratives. Their connection is never linear but opens up space for associations. The objects function as carefully deliberated impulses designed to inspire the viewer’s imagination and trigger a sensation of longing.
For the first time, Jason Dodge will combine the singular stories and romantic asociations suggested by the everyday objects and materials to form one large literary concept. A poetic text by the artist on the walls of the exhibition space will be the combining element of the works and rooms.
Published January 23, 2010 by aanews
Rafaël Rozendaal – I’m Good at TSCA Tokyo
Opening Saturday January 23, 18:00 – 21:00
Exhibition Jan 23 – Feb 20
Published by aanews
bout forty years ago, artists like Robert Morris and Joseph Kosuth were making works explicitly about self-referentiality. In the case of Morris, tautology took the form of objects. In the case of Kosuth, it took the form of words, sentences, and paragraphs. Works about the sound of their own making, or word pieces that spoke of being “self-described and self-defined,” turned language and forms into short circuits and logical conundrums that still inspire today. The nitty gritty, however, did not play a part. Yes, work came to be embedded in a metropolitan urban context. Kosuth and Daniel Buren inaugurated the use of billboards. But the work kept a rigorous linguistic, or a completely abstract, base. By the time of Kruger and Gonzalez-Torres, billboards by artists were still vehicles, but always, well, monumental. Morris showed tautology in performance and in objects where the “I” of the artist, and his utterly naked self, conflate being, saying, making, and doing. But there was always a level of abstraction to performative and conceptual art which, well, left out you and me. The ”Billboard Book” book of Jonathan Monk, harks back to other times. It is fabricated from the billboard project announcing its publication, is a great piece of conceptual wizardry. It refers to itself in the natty text that Monk devised, invoking every last piece of technical detail constituting its manufacture.
And then, the object slices up, and becomes a volume, showing, in one neat gesture, how irrelevant taxonomies such as sculpture/painting/book, really are. Daniel Buren and others have chewed on these problems. But what is so really neat, and now, about Mr. Monk’s piece for Three Star Books, is the human dimension. In the age of the social network, where you and me can really log right on to anyone else’s site, why should the printer of this billboard book book be left out? And isn’t it nice that the photographer is mentioned too? Not to speak of the dear lady crating the book in its cartons and that the design is by Vier5. Here, the humility and humor of Monk come brilliantly to the fore. Every last soul involved in the manufacture of this book object has been duly mentioned. Gone is the age when art authorship and art assistants were two separate matters.
Monk acts more like a producer in this case, and shows the artistic process for the collaborative endeavor it really is. Now, for all those old-time Marxists, with their very good intentions, and sometimes lesser capacity to enact them, here is a beautiful lesson in how to be both procreative, and democratic, both deferential to one’s mentors, and yet, generative, all at the same time, and in 2 kilograms of highly meaningful paper pulp.
Edition of 40 copies with 20 artist’s proofs all numbered and signed by the artist.
Numbers 1 to 6 are accompanied by the 400 x 300 cm folded billboard poster.
Dimensions: 30 x 40 cm.
Hard cover with silkscreened cardboard
210 pages printed in 2 colors
www.threestarbooks.com
Published December 30, 2009 by aanews
Published December 28, 2009 by aanews
he book is about war, its effects upon Riley, who served as an Army nurse at Abu Ghraib prison from 2004–2005, his relationship to thousands of his combat photos and the intricacies of memory surrounding the trauma of war. The book is the site of the artwork.
Riley has a unique relationship to his photographs from Abu Ghraib. While in Iraq, the camera operated as a form of prosthetic device for Riley — an extension of the body that recorded events his memory suppressed. There are photographs that he doesn’t recall taking, nor does he remember the event itself. Other times, he used the camera to “store” overwhelming experiences to sort out later. Instigated by his photos, Riley and I spent three years discussing memory and the war’s effects on him.
If the camera was an important apparatus for Riley in combat, what are the roles of the resulting photos — this post-traumatic evidence? The book explores that question. Photos of red gaping flesh blend with drab army colored clothing. “Sometimes I feel like this was somebody else’s experience, and I’m trying to put the pieces together after the fact,” Riley reflects. “Photos provide the chain of events that lead your mind into a state where it is okay to kill somebody. If you don’t remember the sequence of events that took you there, you can believe you were a monster.”
These particular pages are different sized, some shorter than others. They are designed to mimic the nature of memories — overlapping and intersecting.
Currently the artwork is an object in your hand — organized, mobile, tactile. As a book, the work has potential to disseminate through a large population, yet it is tangible and stable — unlike the digital information and traumatic memories from which it came.
The book is meant for many audiences. On the one hand, this book is engaged in an intellectual discussion surrounding war imagery by returning soldiers. This project is part of a larger conversation about socially engaged art practices and events. Educators in art, politics, and conflict mediation can use the book. On the topic of traumatic memory, the book has a home in the health and healing community. Perhaps most importantly, this book is an invitation to everyday U.S. citizens, including war veterans, family and friends, to speak and share openly with each other about their experiences of the war.
Published by aanews
The Classroom is curated by David Senior, Museum of Modern Art Library.
***
irst of all, I want to thank the NYABF and AA Bronson, assisted by the Printed Matter team for giving us the opportunity to present OBJECT by Haim Steinbach published by Three Star Books.
I also want to thank Haim for being present tonight and letting me introduce OBJECT in my own words and interpretation. But be reassured the artist will correct me in a few minutes…
My name is Christophe Boutin and along with Cornelia Lauf and Melanie Scarciglia I am one of the three founding members of Three Star Books.
Three Star Books is dedicated to publishing books by artists. There are as many ways to define an artist’s book as there are publishers.
Three Star Books was founded 3 years ago and has published numerous projects among them: Die More Die Better Die Again by Maurizio Cattelan, FETISH by HEIMO Zobernig, ULTIMO BAGAGLIO by Hubert Damish and Ken Lum, HOLY SILENCE by Tobias Rehberger. Our Predecessor company, Two Star Books:A BOOK OF COVERS by Liam Gillick and the Paris designers M/M.
In an era where the INTERNET is the most powerful information dissemination tool, I am convinced that OBJECT by Haim Steinbach is the perfect example of what I consider to be the only type of book that has the right to be printed.
Of course this is a strong statement, but let me explain.
OBJECT is not only a book, it is also an OBJECT.
OBJECT will not inform you about the artist, since the book itself is a WORK by the artist.
OBJECT will inform you about the artist because it is a WORK by Haim Steinbach.
For those who are familiar with the activity of Haim Steinbach, OBJECT is a bible that groups images of some of the objects that the artist has / is or may use in the future for his delicate and precise installations and sculptures.
When Haim was invited to develop a project at TSB he quickly came up with the idea of having a collection of some of the items that surround him to be photographed and assembled in a BOOK.
The whole book would be punched with a hole.
I then flew to NY to organize the shooting session of the objects at HS studio. During the two days of photographing, with the help of Zerek Kempf, Haim’s assistant and artist, we set up a packshot photo studio to photograph the 200 objects that were carefully selected by the artist.
After the images were brought back and prepared for reproduction in our Paris offices, a second trip to NY was scheduled in order for Haim to finalize his choice of the objects that were to be reproduced for the book.
Haim decided that the book should be in the form of a large kid’s book of 64 pages. OBJECT is also dedicated to Haim’s son River who just turned 5 this week.
All production files were ready to go to the printer when, as usual when concept meets reality, complications ensued. How are would we punch such a deep hole? After numerous printers and binders conducted tests, a printer in China came up with the solution of creating a double metal tool that would punch the entire book from both sides.
Given the book’s size, our Chinese printer, IMAGO, worried about liability and so insisted that either OJECT carry a warning that it was dangerous to children under six years of age or else that we sign a release, specifying that IMAGO would not be liable for any injuries to children under six years old. In order to preserve the integrity of OBJECT, we signed the release.
As you can see, the name of the artist is printed only on page 63, at the colophon. Instead of the names of the artist and publisher, on the book’s spine is an image of one of the objects that the artist seems to like the most: a KONG DOG CHEW.
The images reproduced in the book are, as Daniel Buren would state, SOUVENIR IMAGES. The big hole in the middle of the book, obliterating the objects, makes us understand that, even though they are reproduced with high quality printing, the presence of the objects, photographed and reproduced within this volume, is MISSING. These observations also remind me of the captions used below paintings in The STUDIO MAGAZINE a hundred and ten years ago that stated “reproduced after a photograph,” followed by the name of the photographer.
OBJECT was then printed in 4 colors, the printed sheets were varnished, and then mounted on cardboard and finally bound.
THEN, at the specific moment that the hole was punched , OBJECT became a work of art by Haim Steinbach.
Thank you.
Christophe Boutin
Published December 26, 2009 by aanews
“Until the Fall
en paintings by Alain Séchas. ” Ten vertical formats. Nothing else. No sculpture, no technology, no sound.
And no cats either, no Martians. No Couéism.
Acrylic paint on paper meticulously mounted on canvas. The white edge of the paper is visible. So is the canvas.
So, painting. Very colourful paintings. Interlacings in which the form chases its tail until it’s out of breath. Detailed painting, dense and devious. Images in which, at first glance, nothing seems preconceived or premeditated. Rather, a loss of control with gesture oscillating between virtuosity and awkwardness, between tension and release: a vertical journey not lacking in gravity. So, ten paintings, and ten unlikely titles. Ten titles that will no doubt keep changing until the last minute. Ten titles rather than “untitleds,” but titles taken after the event. After the event of painting, it goes without saying.
Ten titles however, that, as I write, help me find my way. I can refer to them in order to understand something. Séchas didn’t get us used to abstraction. Ten titles that go walkabout: Porte d’Italie, Mexico, Cardinaux and Hurons. And others I won’t mention. See for yourself. Ten titles that induce you to seek analogies between what they evoke and what you can see. That’s not easy when this really isn’t figurative and, on top of it all, if they change the moment you’re on to something. If our thoughts are vague and we make mistakes and get confused, I guess that must be just fine with Séchas.
Ten paintings executed on paper taped to the studio wall. Painted fairly fast, “depending on the degree of success,” says Séchas. But then what is the “success” of a work of art nowadays? When does the thing start to hold together? When do you move on to the next one?
Ten paintings whose speed of execution was no doubt variable, perhaps inconsistent. Different, at any rate, from that of the artist’s sculptures; closer, no doubt, to that of some of this drawings.
I look at these works. If I didn’t know who the author was I would find them jaunty and lively, almost joyous and light-hearted. Big colourful masses, strapwork, consummate skill: the man has technique. He has a deft hand. So it was Séchas who did that? What’s going on? I wonder. What is he getting at?
Here and there vaguely narrative elements emerge, close to things I know: eyes, ovoid forms, unlikely mandibles. But gone is the grammar of the earlier works, which are always somewhat restrained and subtle. Is Séchas letting go? Is he losing that caustic, deadpan humour of his? All that is effaced, erased, liquefied, so much so that I just don’t know what these paintings are saying to me? No witticisms, no caricatures.
Ridding oneself of one’s accomplishments. Unlearning, both for oneself and for whoever is looking. Not reassuring him with what, over the years and at the shows, he had learned to recognise, but instead placing him before what Roland Barthes called “the terror of uncertain signs.”
It’s true, I’m uncomfortable. It can’t be easy to forget a skill. And it is just as difficult to try and talk about it. I keep looking. There must be some Séchas under all this.Besides, I am not writing just to talk about this past, but to address the present. Exactly. I like these paintings a lot. In fact I wonder if another thing I like isn’t the fact that they make me uncomfortable and go against what I already know about Séchas’s work. Or what I think I know. Séchas is not easy. His work is often reduced to smooth, simple images. Séchas often has the violence of smoothness.
But there’s none of that here. It is both rough and lively. Full of denials and nonsense, full of signs forming and coming apart, seemingly put to the test by painting, negotiating or becoming diluted. Signs with the semantic fidgets, signs that slip and skate and sweat. It’s a physical thing.I think of Mercier and Camier. I love them, those two. Their goal is not precise. “All we have to do is press forward.” And I think to myself that something similar must be going on here. Something far from gratuitous word games, and the desire that the practice of painting should become a way of revealing what is at stake by its very absurdity. Here there are lines that jump, holes, resumptions and affirmations that suddenly switch to contradictions.
In Malone Dies, Beckett writes: “And each one has his reasons, while wondering from time to time what they are worth, and if they are the true ones, for going where he is going rather than somewhere else.” There must be something of that in the pictures that Séchas is painting these days – standing up, facing himself with his back to what he has done. Yes, that’s it. Painting so as not to get backache. Until the fall comes.
Bernard Blistène, December 2009
December 12, 2009 - January 23, 2010 Galerie Chantal Crousel
Published December 25, 2009 by aanews
Published December 18, 2009 by aanews
Interieurs’ an exhibition of Florian Süssmayr’s paintings and a collaboration (with Martin Wöhrl) at Nicholas Robinson Gallery NYC offered a tempered collection of pictures whose subject is the historic past where shifts in culture play out through the lives of an individual and their social circle situated in the right time (early 80’s) and right place (wherever). These unseen transitions in the development of self register within a social milieu distanced now through time, but that pictorially retains the feverish pulse of youth.
Süssmayr is a history painter, working in oil often within a spectrum of dried blood browns, translating print images onto canvas either by eye-to hand reproduction, or by the assistance of projector in which an image may be traced in the manner of Andy Warhol’s work. Warhol, like Robert Rauschenberg (earlier) and later Gerhard Richter and Richard Hamilton occasionally chose topical subject matter that was political in nature. Warhol’s ‘Race Riot’ (1964) and Richter’s ‘October 18, 1977’ (1988) series are among the masterworks of art’s engagement with real world events. Richter is of particular importance to Sussmyr in as both a representational painter and in his elevation of forensic details in the rendering of reproductions. Richter’s manually blurred ‘photorealist’ techniques resembled a poorly televised picture, rescuing 80’s European painting from lurid neo-expressionism whose novelty did not survive the decade. Süssmayr recognizes that the ‘mute witnesses’ to events are relegated to the background and marginalia of the big subject. These are part of the dingey period décor which found renewal in this era of celebration of the abject. Punk was ‘flowers in the dustbin’, the response to the empty promises that the utopian 60’s failed to deliver on throughout the oil shocks, recession, and vacuous forms of escapism of the ‘Me Decade’. In modestly scaled paintings (all ’09) like‘Interieur-Curtain’, ‘Excess bar’, and ‘Carpet’ Süssmayr’s camera searches the curtains, tiled walls and floors for absolutely nothing and finds absolutely everything. The ornamentation, faux-primitive patterns, and designs are versions of versions, long distanced from their folkloric origins-empty signs awaiting redeployment. Melancholia pervades the bleak gaiety of ‘Mirror Ball’- an instant party in the flick of a switch and a fragmented memorial to whatever scenes of abandonment it may have witnessed.
The punks made music and style but not art. New York artist’s moonlighted in bands, but lost interest preferring the upscale comforts of ‘downtown’ bohemia, i.e., real estate. But youth culture’s embrace of creating by destroying has found new currency in the proliferation of assemblage and collage. Primarily through the incendiary Jamie Reid’s agitprop of the 70’s, the collage, that art form beloved by the perpetual adolescent obsessive, remains this period’s (punk/new wave) signature style as art noveaux was for the hippies. Except for in ‘Self Portrait’, whose stacked composition recalls 60’s Warhol, Süssmayr avoids the use of collage as a nostalgic signifier of authenticity, a trope exhausted by local art boom figures who blurred art and life with tragic consequences. Identifiable cult figures reside only the margins of Süssmayr’s art-the two guys in ‘Interieur’(s) look like they might be Ramones and in ‘Self Portrait’ I recognize Richard Hell’s personage in the upper left-hand corner. Süssmayr repeatedly chooses ennui over fanboy reenactment’s such as Banks Violette’s early videos that successfully transferred the aura of Ian Curtis, doomed lead singer of Joy Division onto his own product. One wonders how those who attain such adoration survive outliving their moment; some not too badly-Richard Hell (according to his website) is a busy literary figure and Patti Smith entertains select audiences of big spenders at events like Miami Basel.
Euro-punks scared me, having gotten a close look of my own in mid to late 70’s travels to London, Milan, Belfast, and Paris. The haunted European capitals cast darker shadows than the dive bars along Bowery populated mostly by perpetually uncool ‘bridge and tunnel’ suburban kids. Last century’s history informs a painting like Süssmayr’s ‘Floor’ where the pattern of bricks appear one step away from formation into an outlawed fascist symbol-no surface is innocent through Sussmyr’s lens. Europunks were nihilistic ‘stormhippies’ and youth culture aficionado’s like Dan Graham took great measures to distinguish ‘them’ from ‘us’ in exposing a puritanical American transcendentalist ritualism in the burgeoning hardcore scene as proposed in his ‘Rock My Religion’ video (1982-4). Graham correctly noted this music’s separation of the sexes, unlike 70’s Disco where everyone gay or straight was on the dance floor. Once again, ‘Mirror Ball’ celebrates this. Süssmayr’s men embrace and bond while his women pose.
Do ‘disenfranchised’ youth play a role in the empty unkempt bedrooms or dining halls? Where are they? Attending class? Dancing? Starting a White Riot? Anti- intellectualism and vacancy was prized by the blank generation-but paintings (or photographs) are never truly empty from conditions of light, grain, shadow, glare and other incident. Two bright monochromes ‘Stachus Untergeschoss V-IV’ could attract something beside our gaze to disrupt their surfaces; most probably the unschooled line of the graffiti writer who simultaneously defaces and claims any flat space. Few artists other than Gilbert and George in their great photo assemblages of 1977 (in black, white, and red) took note of urban subculture’s writing on the wall; ‘ARE YOU ANGRY OR ARE YOU BORING?’
Downstairs in the gallery Süssmayr and a collaborator Martin Wohrl construct a pictorial environment that begs our participation in the form of writing upon the wall with a supply of black markers (I wrote something). Like early, funky Rauschenberg or the smoother Cy Twombly, Süssmayr and Wöhrl invite the ‘street’ into the white cube. Wöhrl’s makeshift benches open up a welcome space for rest and contemplation-if a punk Rothko Chapel was ever proposed, Florian Süssmayr should be high on any list for the commission.
Tim Maul 12/09
