Rehearsal after Reflect Soft Matte Discourse | Malin Arnell, Clara López & Imri Sandström | Episode 2: A Special Form of Darkness | Tramway | Glasgow

Text by Bethany Rex

How do ideas of nihilism, darkness, subjectivity and abjection play out in experimental music, performance art, supernatural horror; in neuroscience or philosophy? Or: how can you trust what you think or feel? A Special Form of Darkness is an open, convivial music/performance/ideas hybrid - a cross between a festival, magazine and discussion.

Taking place from 24 - 26 February at Tramway, Glasgow, the full programme includes; Keiji Haino, Junko, Walter Marchetti, Deflag Haemorrhage/Haien Kontra, Taku Unami, Malin Arnell, Iain Campbell F-W, Dawn Kasper, Ray Brassier, Mark Fisher, Alexi Kukuljevic, Thomas Metzinger, Eugene Thacker and Evan Calder Williams. We caught up with Malin Arnell to find out more about Rehearsal after Reflect Soft Matte Discourse which will take place on Saturday 25th February.

BR: Could you give us Rehearsal after Reflect Soft Matte Discourse in a nutshell? What was the idea behind this re-enactment?

MA: In the earlier action Reflect Soft Matte Discourse, which I performed in May 2010, the idea was to re-enact and to understand Gina Panes action Discours mou et mat from 1975. With this action I wanted to test my own bodily limits and deal with some questions around intimacy, authenticity and pain. It is a discussion of the intimate body within different systems of control. It is an action that counteracts alienation trough its effort, exhaustion, and wounds.

After that experience I felt a strong need to continue my dialogue with that action and to explore and process my and my fellow performer Clara López feelings and reactions during and after the performance. Another aspect I wanted to include in the process was the reactions within the audience during the re-enactment - speaking out my name while trying to stop me from cutting my upper lip, and the absolute silence after the performance, when no applauds could be heard. I needed to take a step back and rehearse the piece that I never rehearsed, and to bring in Imri Sandström and Clara López to make it happen.

BR: In the introduction to the piece, you state that it’s an “allegorical performance of alienation, abjection and the female figure, of the extreme fragility of the body and the reality of suffering.” Why do you feel the need to self-wound in order to convey this message?

MA: The question of self-wounds is difficult. I don’t think I felt the specific need to self-wound, instead my interest was to experience the “action” from within, putting the score into practice again. Self-wound is just one aspect of the action. Today the reading or understanding of female self-inflicted wounds has a totally different implication than in 1975, I think. Today the mediatisation of self-harm and self-injury among young adulthood persons, mostly women, gives the act another framework than the one it had in 1975. Pane was strongly influenced by the psychoanalytic discourse in France, Jacques Lacan and the feminist writings by for example Hélène Cixious (écrritude feminine - female figure), she was also connected in some way to the art sociologique movement and took on the theories that Guy Debord and the Internatinale Situationniste was putting forward (alienation) and she showed her solidarity to the anti Vietnam War movement (fragility of the body and the reality of suffering). During this time Panes was using her own body as the medium through which to address socio-political issues on a collective plane. She understood the wound as “an establishment of a relationship with the other”. Her self-inflicted wounds were motivated by her desire to promote an idea of the body as a communal entity. For her, the presence and intensity that self-inflicted wounds entail were conditions for a collective de-anesthetisation.

BR: How has being a feminist affected your art – do you find yourself consciously trying to break down barriers, or can you separate being a feminist from being an artist?

MA: No, there is no way I can separate the fact of being a feminist and an artist and I don’t try to, but I mean there are other things I think that affect my life and my art practice even more – the fact that I/ we live in a capitalist society, that is inherently racist, sexist, patriarchal, heteronormative.

I don’t think braking down barriers has been the most important activity within the feminist movement/s – breaking barriers is just one method among others to open up for experiences of that something else is possible.

BR: Do you think that mainstream art will always be controlled by men and the male gaze, or are we experiencing a shift towards equality?

MA: Unfortunately I don’t see a shift coming. I just see backlash after backlash around me. And that is not just a question about men and their gaze. The global inequalities are produced by racial, class, gender, sexual, religious, pedagogical, linguistic, aesthetic, ecological and epistemological power hierarchies that operate in complex and entangled ways at a world-scale. And above all, the economic neoliberal policies are spreading its value system over every aspect of life and human and non-human relationships. I say: No equality without solidarity, and sometimes when I’m in a good mood I say: fuck the mainstream.

BR: Could you expand on what you mean by being political through being personal?

MA: I’m very confused about the use of the personal as if there are another way of being in the world that is not personal or the assumption that the personal always imply that there is a human subject with a specific identity that have the possibility to be personal, or there is also this implication that if you speak up from a minority position its personal, but if you speak from a privilege position you speak the universal facts. Used without questioning the understanding of what ideological foundation “the personal” or “the subject” are leaning on, the concept can work against itself. When Carol Hanisch put forward the concept “the personal is political” in a text written 1969, it was a respond to a criticism of women getting together in consciousness-raising groups to discuss their own oppression as “naval-gazing” and “personal therapy”— and certainly “not political.” This criticism came from many people within the radical movements of Civil Rights, Anti-Vietnam War, and Old and New Left groups. At this time the need to recognize and fight male supremacy as a movement was put forward in order to stop blaming the individual woman for her oppression. I think the important point today is to understand how to use “the personal” as a collective force that gives us agency to act and speak.

BR: Which other artists inspire you?

MA: At the moment I have this intense and fruitful love relationship with Gina Pane. I find her poetics distinctive and her writings and working methods fractiously inspiring. Of course I could list a hundred names here but I will save that for later…

BR: What advise would you give to female artists who are just starting out?

MA: Listen, learn and laugh together and don’t forget to make love to each other in all possible and impossible ways.

Episode 2: A Special Form of Darkness, 24/02/2012 - 26/02/2012, Tramway, Glasgow. www.arika.org.uk

The full programme is available now at arika.org.uk
For tickets please click here.

Aesthetica in Print

If you only read Aesthetica online, you're missing out. The February/March issue of Aesthetica is out now and offers a diverse range of features from an examination of the diversity and complexity of art produced during the tumultuous decade of the 1980s in Art, Love & Politics in the 1980s, opening 11 February at MCA Chiacgo, a photographic presentation of the Irish Museum of Modern Art's latest opening, Conversations: Photography from the Bank of America Collection. Plus, we recount the story of British design in relation to a comprehensive exhibition opening this spring at the V&A.

If you would like to buy this issue, you can search for your nearest stockist here. Better yet call +44 (0) 1904 629 137 or visit the website to subscribe to Aesthetica for a year and save 20% on the printed magazine.

Jeremy Deller: Joy in People | Hayward Gallery | Southbank Centre | London

Text by Travis Riley

You wouldn’t be to blame if you assumed the large blue banner above the Hayward entrance, proclaiming "art exhibition", were a David Shrigley piece. It has the immediacy and humour of Shrigley’s work, and none of the seriousness that has in recent years come to represent Jeremy Deller.

In fact, for those only familiar with Jeremy Deller’s most celebrated work, The Battle of Orgreave (2001), the exhibition title, Joy in People, might seem a bit quizzical. The full-scale re-enactment of a particularly dark corner of British history is not a common definition of the term "joy". However, already visible from the entrance to the show is Valerie’s Snack Bar (2009), a recreation of a Bury Market café. The structure, surrounded by colourful parade banners, would be out of place in any modern gallery space, and in the Hayward’s high-ceilinged, factory-like rooms, it is wonderfully ludicrous. With my cup of tea I sat, staring out at the exhibition surrounding the stall.

To the left is The History of the World (1998) Deller’s spider diagram connecting "Acid House" and "Brass Band" music. The playfulness exuded by this work is joyful. It feels humble, like an idea conceived of over a pint, but that would never usually be followed through in the light of day. The evident mismanagement of grand-title and niche content is a humorous draw, which turns out to elucidate a greater point. It is easily possible to sit, tracing the diagram’s tangential connections for hours; there is a sort of disbelief that these two genres should ever be connected, and yet as with all distinct historical points, they inevitably find themselves related. Later on in the show there is a video of contemporary acid house music being played by Williams Fairey Brass Band (Acid Brass, 2007). Much of Deller’s work exists primarily outside of the gallery; the Williams Fairey Brass Band have continued playing Acid Brass gigs as recently as 2011.

To deal with this genre of seemingly un-exhibitable work, Deller presents a slideshow (Beyond the White Walls, 2012) in which he described several previous projects. From Karl Marx at Christmas (2000), to his "I love joyriding" bumper stickers, to a middle-class hand sign system (signs including "cup of tea", "radio four", and "antiques roadshow"), the works are equal parts culturally insightful and hilarious. The strength of these pieces is a restriction of scale, an almost effervescent quality. Each is a self-contained gesture, which Deller’s narration carefully and characterfully elucidates.

To the right of my spot at the café, a white-walled structure, about half the room’s height, dominates the landscape of the gallery. Inside is a recreation of Jeremy Deller’s teenage bedroom. He hosted an exhibition here when his parents were away on holiday, and although it might not have seemed groundbreaking at the time, the calculated transportation of the teenage art and ephemera to the gallery-space allows a it to become a catalyst for the other works. All the hallmarks of Jeremy Deller’s art are displayed here. There is work based on musical influence, cultural interest, and appropriation (borrowed text from graffiti in the British Library toilets, displayed on the walls of his own bathroom). The formats of event poster, archival history, and consumerist material, are explored, as they continue to be throughout the wider exhibition.

Moving on to the next room of the exhibition the inquisitive ebullience of the earlier spaces is left behind, there is no escaping the social weight of The Battle of Orgreave. The installation consists of an on-wall, month by month socio-political account of the events leading up to the clashes between miners and police, presented alongside the hour-long documentary of Deller’s Battle of Orgreave re-enactment. Despite the performance’s central role in the film, the documentary’s character is defined more by conversations with the out-of-character re-enactors. For every militant declaration, laying bare old wounds, there are numerous admissions of mistakes, and a lack of restraint on both sides. The film is by no means a celebration of the battle, but in its reconsideration of a moment in history buried through shame, there is also no condemnation. The positivity of the gesture, towards a situation always recounted negatively, shows through.

The piece It Is What It Is (2009) seems an extension of this idea. This time Deller takes a burnt-out car, a casualty of a Baghdad bombing, on tour around America in order to start a conversation with the American public, informed by the presence of an exiled Iraqi citizen and an American soldier. If approached as an attempt to bridge cultural divisions, Deller’s somewhat bleak version of the American road trip seems doomed to fail from the outset, but perhaps this was the intention. Deller terms the car "the conversation piece from hell" and as with The Battle of Orgreave Deller’s intent is to inform and confront, not to present a viewpoint on the war or make a judgement on America. The car fills the gallery space with a visceral truth much greater than its rusted metal parts.

The term "joy" is best defined as "a source of happiness", and it is in this sense that Deller has presented the Joy In People. This exhibition, Deller’s first retrospective, is built directly from his interests. The pleasure he takes in music, culture, and indeed, people, informs the show and is communicated throughout. His drive to investigate more trying, and often overlooked issues does not become an exception in this case, but merely a continuation of the same central principle. His art is honest, but thankfully, not at all naïve. Deller’s joyful and celebratory approach, far from demeaning his subject matter, affords it a grounded insight that has allowed him to tackle subjects from war to tea rooms with equal sincerity.

Jeremy Deller: Joy in People, 22/02/2012 - 13/05/2012, Hayward Gallery, Southbank Centre, Belvedere Road, London, SE1 8XX. www.southbankcentre.co.uk/deller

Aesthetica in Print

If you only read Aesthetica online, you're missing out. The February/March issue of Aesthetica is out now and offers a diverse range of features from an examination of the diversity and complexity of art produced during the tumultuous decade of the 1980s in Art, Love & Politics in the 1980s, opening 11 February at MCA Chiacgo, a photographic presentation of the Irish Museum of Modern Art's latest opening, Conversations: Photography from the Bank of America Collection. Plus, we recount the story of British design in relation to a comprehensive exhibition opening this spring at the V&A.

If you would like to buy this issue, you can search for your nearest stockist here. Better yet call +44 (0) 1904 629 137 or visit the website to subscribe to Aesthetica for a year and save 20% on the printed magazine.

Captions:
1. Jeremy Deller Snack Bar (2009)
2. Jeremy Deller Open Bedroom (1993)
3. Jeremy Deller It Is What It Is (2009)
Photography: Linda Nylind

Wind the Bobbin Up | Cotton: Global Threads | Whitworth Art Gallery | Manchester

Text by Liz Buckley

Cotton. You’re probably wearing it now. You probably sleep on it every night. The sheer abundance of this material all around us means it usually remains ignored and under-appreciated. The cotton industry at one point had its largest export centres in places far and wide; India, and closer to home, Lancashire. The new exhibition at Manchester’s Whitworth Art Gallery is a celebration of all things cotton, including both traditional and contemporary uses, mixed media pieces and installations, but most of all a well deserved celebration of the stuff. Cotton: Global Threads is an exhibition designed to amalgamate the cultural diversities of these fine threads and fabrics in a showcase of international talent and multiplicity.

As the first manufactured commodity, we remain constantly indebted to cotton and those who produce it. It is not unreasonable to assume that many residents of Manchester, which was once part of Lancashire, are unaware of just how pinnacle the county was to the cotton trade, rubbing shoulders with not only India, but many parts of Africa and America. Cotton has, and still remains to have, connotations of economical and moral issues, as well as labour exploitations, and while this exhibition celebrates this underrated fibre, it also offers a cultural analysis and historical chronology of the more personal life of cotton.

Despite being dedicated to a specific material, this exhibition offers a wide variety of media, showcasing the fine threads in both a traditional and contemporary manner. The Whitworth tends to pride itself in its thematic approach to exhibitions, as its curators feel they have more freedom and can be more playful with the inclusion of pieces, usually specially selecting works from their permanent collection to coincide with temporary installations. It is in this way that this new exhibit tells not only a global story, but offers an account of texture, colour and mixed media.
Liz Rideal’s piece, Ghost Sari (2001), is video footage projected onto gently floating drapes, and its translucency and fluidity make it hauntingly beautiful. Rideal has merged pre-recorded material with physical, moving fabric, creating a tactile piece which personifies the cloth, making it part of a global cultural language. Whether it is the clothes and textiles which can all be found on display in this diverse exhibition, or any of the other garments, carpets, wall hangings or pure works of art, what stands out is the symbolic and time consuming nature of the work. On show here are the very fibres of life, from places all over the globe.

Though it is well recorded that the labour force behind cotton’s production has often been exploited, this exhibition serves to mirror this with cotton’s own exploitation as a fabric, reminding visitors of the not only the laborious work which goes into producing it, but the incessant possibilities that this material has. The John Forbes Watson sample books on display as part of Cotton: Global Threads are volumes of textile swatches, and give a small but wonderful insight into the intricacy of cotton work, as well as all the potential for colour, texture and pattern. It is obvious that the most intricate and fine pieces of cotton fabrics on show for this exhibition, whether they are garments or a wall from Tipu Sultan’s travelling tent, are a sign of grandeur, luxury, and often majestic status. While some of the pieces in Cotton do have a regal background or connotation, many of them are more concerned with history and heritage. Liz Rideal’s work is certainly involved with the global heritage that is associated with cotton, and leaves both physical and mental impressions with her subtle cultural comments and folds of fabric. Aboubakar Fofana’s huge installation piece, Les Arbres à Bleu, which has transformed a whole room of the Whitworth into a beach, consists of numerous "trees," made from cotton dyed with indigo. Additionally the scattered yarns of cotton in amongst these cotton totem poles are meant to signify fallen fruit. This whole scene is reminiscent of Fofana’s homeland of Mali, incorporating his heritage and cultural background, and there is certainly something visceral and beautiful about the processes he has used.

Cotton: Global Threads most certainly offers visitors an international flavour of all the backgrounds, uses, and connotations of Cotton, showcasing everything from 1400 year old Egyptian fabrics from the Whitworth’s permanent collection, to Anne Wilson's Wind Up: Walking the Warp, a film installation incorporating dance into a machine like performance of weaving a cotton warp. This multi-disciplinary exhibition is seeking to bring back the forgotten cotton industry which once thrived in and around Manchester, as well as celebrating the connection which these threads have brought between many cultures. This significantly important and widely used fibre can be seen on show here in all its glory as much more than a bed sheet, and certainly as a permanent "global tie."

Cotton: Global Threads, 11/02/2012 - 13/05/12, Whitworth Art Gallery, Oxford Road, Manchester, M15 6ER. www.whitworth.manchester.ac.uk

Aesthetica in Print

If you only read Aesthetica online, you're missing out. The February/March issue of Aesthetica is out now and offers a diverse range of features from an examination of the diversity and complexity of art produced during the tumultuous decade of the 1980s in Art, Love & Politics in the 1980s, opening 11 February at MCA Chiacgo, a photographic presentation of the Irish Museum of Modern Art's latest opening, Conversations: Photography from the Bank of America Collection. Plus, we recount the story of British design in relation to a comprehensive exhibition opening this spring at the V&A.

If you would like to buy this issue, you can search for your nearest stockist here. Better yet call +44 (0) 1904 629 137 or visit the website to subscribe to Aesthetica for a year and save 20% on the printed magazine.

Caption:
Anne Wilson, Local Industry Cloth (detail), 2010
Collection of Knoxville Museum of Art