Hoist by Our Own Petard - a group exhibition and interactive workshop experiment, as part of Free For Arts Festival 2012

This is my personal response to a curatorial project that I've been working on:


A few months ago Pascal Nicholls approached me to ask if I would be interested in helping him to organise an exhibition of a few of his friends' work; a diverse group, some of whom are ostensibly Artists, whereas others make art, but are ambivalent about situating themselves within any kind of 'art world'. Originally pitched as a straightforward group exhibition, with the opportunity for the Artists' to sell multiples of their work if they wish, Hoist by Our Own Petard has developed into something quite different, so much so that sometimes I'm not sure what it is, or who and what will be on show between the 19th and 26th of October. I've taken on the role of a project manager/curator/performance artist, in that I listen to other people's ideas, and then with my own in-put try to bring them to fruition.

During mine and Pascal's discussions around the sale of multiples, we were forced to approach something which is a particular fascination of mine; spending habits. I feel that responsibility is inherent in the privilege of even meagre disposable income, responsibility both to yourself in that you must buy what you need, and can buy what you want, but also responsibility to the workers who's labour has gone towards the products that you buy. These obligations often contradict one another, and when applied to the making and selling of art seem to almost break down and lose all meaning. In that nobody needs art in order to feed, clothe and wash themselves, but art is not a luxury in the same way as a massive new telly or a shiny new car would be. Whilst researching this complication I came across Hannah Arendt's tripartite division of work, labour and action. Her definition of action is the most appropriate way to define art in contemporary, western, capitalist society that I have encountered, in that it doesn't really fit within contemporary, western, capitalist society. That's not to say that I agree with everything she says, and I'm still working my way through The Human Condition, but I feel that a tripartite division with room for something other than 'work' and 'leisure' is really useful in the context of contemporary art.

Our frustration and confusion at how to market and price art inspired the 'interactive experiment' which will happen alongside the group exhibition for one day during its' week long run. The 'interactive experiment' is not directly related to what is expressed through the work on show, the best way to describe it would probably be as 'parallel'. This feels wrong, somehow, and may well be seen as arrogant curators trying to upstage the art work which it is their job to proffer, but I would like to describe it as a playful attempt to approach a white elephant. There will be three workshops which examine the relationship of art to commerce, each of which incorporates an inevitable absurdity. We are still ironing out the details, and so I won't attempt to coherently describe them yet.


Hoist by Our Own Petard will take place at Islington Mill as part of Free For Arts Festival 2012, between the 19th and 26th of October, with the 'interactive experiment' taking place on the 21st of October.


Exhibiting Artists


Pascal Nicholls: http://wretchumbra.blogspot.co.uk/p/lando-lansard.html

Darren Adcock: http://wretchumbra.blogspot.co.uk/p/suk-ninmyo.html

Susan Fitzpatrick: http://piggysilks.blogspot.co.uk/

Kerry Hindmarch: http://www.saatchionline.com/kerryfrancesa

Joincey: http://joincey.tumblr.com/




Official Copy


Islington Mill will host an exhibition entitled Hoist By Our Own Petard co-curated by Pascal Nicholls and Lauren Velvick. They are currently developing a project which will take the form of a group exhibition and an interactive experiement. There is a dual intention to this project; they want to arrange a fairly straightforward exhibition of the selected artists' work, but will also use the opportunity to interrogate issues surrounding art and labour, inspired by Hannah Arendt's differention of work, labor and action.


Each of the exhibiting artists; Sue Fitzpatrick, Joincey, Kerry Hindmarch, Darren Adcock and Pascal Nicholls, work in a different traditionally recognisable medium, enabling the exhibition to function as a microcosm, within which we can explore issues which bear upon all art-making. They will also produce an accompanying publication, containing the responses of each artist to a questionnaire which they have written, providing data on how art-making fits into everyday life, work and leisure.


In this way Hoist by Our Own Petard will function as an experiment. Finally, they would like to construct an interactive, participatory experiement whereby vistors are invited to 'make something' within one of the mediums exemplified by the work present, eventually providing another set of data which can go towards further research and publications.


http://www.freeforartsfestival.co.uk/

Victoria Baths Fanzine Convention - Cooperative Workshop

After the success of last years event, On May 19th Natalie Bradbury of The Shrieking Violet http://theshriekingviolets.blogspot.co.uk/ staged the second annual Fanzine Convention at Victoria Baths, in conjunction with the Future Everything Festivals' 'Hand Made' event in the same venue. The theme this year was Cooperatives, and I was asked to develop a workshop reflecting this. Relief printing was such a hit last year that I decided to do it again, but with quick-print foam as well as lino, to make the whole experience less daunting.

A participant preparing his foam to print..... (credit for all photographs goes to Natalie Bradbury)

Working, again, with photocopied materials from the VB (Victoria Baths) archives, we invited participants to collage, print and illustrate an A3 page which would be bound into a giant collaborative zine at the end of the day. As the pages were made we hung them around the room, like bunting, which looked nice and was also a good source of inspiration for participants.

The first few pages are are clipped around the space for inspiration (credit for all photographs goes to Natalie Bradbury)

The 'giant collaborative zine' part was a total experiment, but I'm pleased to say it all worked out well, and we were left with a hand bound book, which can be opened out and hung as bunting, too. I want to develop and hone the idea of the collaborative book, stitching all the pages on to their string spine was a little awkward and needs to be re-thought to make it easier for more people to join in. However, it still worked, and all in all it was a fun, fulfilling day.

Here's an online copy of the giant VB fanzine, thanks go to Natalie for scanning each page!

Idris Khan, 'The Devil's Wall' - a review

Idris Khan: The Devil’s Wall at The Whitworth Art Gallery 23 rd Feb - 3 rd May 2012: Review

Idris Khan, The Devil's Wall, 2011. Courtesy of Victoria Miro Gallery, London and Yvon Lambert Gallery, New York.

Idris Khan’s installation The Devil’s Wall consists of three monumental sculptures, teamed with seven drawings chosen from a series of twenty one, called 21 stones, and four photographic works entitled Voices. Khan draws inspiration from the Hajj; the pilgrimage to Mecca, and presents both religious and secular imagery, utilising the written word in Arabic and English, as well as musical scores.

Khan’s use of text in order to draw shapes in the 7 of 21 drawings is somewhat reminiscent of traditional Islamic sacred art, whereby letters and words are used to create elaborate patterns. However, with these drawings Khan has not created elaborate, overtly beautiful patterns. Instead there are largely circular, uneven formations composed of overlapping phrases. These shapes which are simultaneously violent and joyous correlate with those parts of the text which are discernible; a combination of sacred chants and deeply personal disclosures. In this way parallels can be drawn with concrete poetry, and as such the 7 of 21 drawings reference both traditional Islamic Art, and much more recent movements in the history of art. The way in which Khan emphasizes similarities between techniques employed in traditional, sacred art forms and contemporary art is also evident, and much more pronounced in Voices, which are based on 20th century minimalist compositions.
The Voices series is visually very different from the other pieces; they are rectangular, lined and effervescent, where the 7 of 21 drawings are round, with inky black and blue. Moreover, the roundness which Khan has produced in the 7 of 21 Drawings is clearly echoed in the three weighty sculptures which mirror their shape and colours, but with a smooth and glistening perfection. The immediacy of the drawings is not present in the sculptures, although they too have overlapping phrases recorded upon their surface. On the sculptures words are inscribed, showing as silver upon a glassy, seemingly infinite surface, and instead of becoming incomprehensible in a mess of ink at the centre they flow together and disappear into the dark.
Significantly, the title of this installation The Devil's Wall, refers to one particular ritual within the Hajj; the stoning of the Jamarat, during which, pilgrims throw seven stones at three walls in three different locations. Thus, it becomes clear why there are three sculptures and seven drawings, the concave shape of the sculptures represents the bowls which are used to collect the stones after they have been thrown, and following this logic perhaps the drawings are an illustration of their impact. Stones are thrown in order to rid the body and mind of destructive thoughts and pain, and the combination of religious and personal statements which are just about discernible in the 7 drawings could be the residue of a meditative purge.
An astonishing amount of people take part in the Hajj each year, experiencing their pilgrimage together, and the concept of shared experience is thoroughly explored in The Devil's Wall, with a definite sense of multifarious and overlapping voices, elegantly expressed with tangled lines of text. Furthermore, Khan's use of three languages is compelling , in that it seems at first to make language a dividing tool. The experience of a viewer who understands Arabic, English and can read music could be very different from somebody who is fluent in only one of them. Yet, everybody is equally unable to read as the words and notes overlap and merge together in each piece, which in turn evokes a nonlingual, more primal kind of experience.
The distinct feelings which becoming part of a crowd engender, whether in religious or other circumstances, are explored and represented by Khan throughout; particularly in Voices where meditative chanting and repetitive sounds are depicted with transcribed music. Here Khan employs one of his signature techniques, overlaying delicate photographic prints to create a visually confusing, ghostly image which seems to long for movement whilst remaining still. In Voices Khan uses the scores of compositions by Philip Glass and Steve Reich, pieces which famously use repetitive structures and overlapping rhythms. By including Voices within The Devil's Wall Khan contrives a direct association between the communal actions of thousands of pilgrims simultaneously taking part in the rituals of the Hajj, and the meditative, stupefying potential of experiencing a performance of these minimalist scores.
The use of lighting in this exhibition is also significant to the viewer's experience, and is particularly striking is terms of Voices, whereby direct lighting makes the pieces appear as golden windows shining into the dim room, bringing to mind sacred buildings and again exemplifying Khans mingling of religious and secular imagery. At the Whitworth Art Gallery low lighting is often employed to protect the delicate fabrics and papers of their collection. However in The Devil’s Wall notable atmospheric lighting is used in the display of contemporary pieces, which lends them the type of reverence usually only afforded to historical works. In the shapes and effects which Khan has employed we can discern bowls, walls and temples, but also black holes, explosions and a perhaps most of all a sense of immensity. Khan's treatment of profoundly sacred subject matter successfully humanises and demystifies religious ritual, whilst simultaneously preserving a sense of awe in linking such ritual with contemporary and secular forms of contemplation.

Manchester Artists' Bonfire

This is a piece both about and for the Artists' Bonfire. I was comissioned to write an accompanying essay for the event, which was a great opportunity to get my ideas and opinions straight. I went last year and while I had fun, I've never been quite sure what I think about the whole thing. I've heard lots of criticisms and lots of 'urgh I just don't like it' so I wanted to incorporate that in the piece. It was never meant to be a hymn to the event, or even positive, but the more I thought about it all the more I liked the idea. This is just the first part, I want to look into non-western sacred art, where the destruction is as important as the creation, in relation to how the participating artists feel that the fire affects their practice.

http://manchesterartistsbonfire2012.tumblr.com/

creation>reception>destruction>creation>reception>destruction

In January 2011 the Manchester Artists’ Bonfire happened for the first time. At its genesis the event was heavily influenced and stimulated by anger, confusion and panic at cuts in government funding which have been inflicted on the cultural sector. This element of the event was emphasized in the official literature, and in some ways it felt like an extension of protests which had been taking place as a reaction to the rise in tuition fees. The question of funding for non-compulsory education is, of course, another issue similar to that of funding for the arts, whereby much of the argument relies on qualitative judgements and abstract concepts, versus the arguably more ‘real’ issue of cost. The Artists Bonfire' is taking place again this year and aims to become a regular annual event, which removes it from the particular conditions of its first manifestation. Whilst we have still been grappling with issues surrounding 'the cuts' since last January, the situation is different, and it will differ every year from now on.

With this in mind I seek to avoid dismissing the Artists' Bonfire purely as a form of protest, rooted within the wider context of demonstration, riot, and occupation. It can be argued that whilst the historical and political context of the event is important, there are fundamental art historical questions concerning iconoclasm, reception and the status of art in contemporary society which the Artists’ Bonfire raises. It is the above which I seek to address; how the event functions as a collaborative performance, and what the destruction of a work of art means in terms of its status as art, especially when such destruction is engendered by the artists themselves.

One of the initial criteria for submitting work to the fire was for the participant to give a speech, to say something about their work, their practice, the event, and what it means to them. This requirement to verbally express thoughts and feelings about your work coherently, in front of your artistic peers and non-participating viewers, is an incredibly important part of the event. Galvanised into action by a financial threat to the credibility, and sustainability of a vocation which the participants had chosen to devote their lives to, they were also required to at the last moment justify and explain their choices. Thus, whilst fire and destruction in the context of politically motivated anger is at once evocative, exciting and notably clichéd, significantly there is also a platform for debate and uncertainty amidst the fever of action and destruction.

Unsurprisingly the contentious and evocative nature of fire, along with the very notion of will full destruction has attracted harsh, and not unfounded criticism. In this way the event recalls the famous iconoclastic orgies of history and as such jars with a traditional conception of how art works should be handled. This destruction for the sake-of-it could be construed as a pretentious tantrum, indeed to many the whole event seems distasteful and decadent; a spectacle to gawk at but with no serious artistic content. If we are reacting to a perceived threat, and criticism of our conception of art as a vitally important part of society, then wouldn't it make sense to treat artworks with reverence? A simple way to counteract such hostility is to merely acknowledge that art which processually self destructs is not without precedent, there is a rich history of contemporary art for which decay and eventual disintegration are essential components. Dario Gamboni recognises this in his discussion of iconoclasm and vandalism, but also accedes that this is not a 'normal' way to treat works of art. Thus, he concludes, that 'attacks' “can prove particularly useful for illuminating those 'normal' attitudes”¹.

The above point is vital in relation to the Artists Bonfire, whilst perhaps 'attack' isn't the most appropriate word in this context; the Artists who take part are forced to confront their 'normal' attitudes toward their work, and that of others. We could invoke the old adage; “You don't know what you've got till it's gone”, which neatly sums up philosophical attitudes pertaining to the benefit of exploring death, destruction and the abject. Thus, an important message that the Artists’ Bonfire can convey, is that in order to genuinely appreciate the value of creativity, it is necessary to confront the inevitability of death and decay in both objects and ideas. Furthermore, by forcing ourselves as artists to confront these difficult ideas, and to question our own ingrained and comfortable attitudes towards art, we can better formulate defences against the ideological attacks which recent funding cuts have precipitated. Reverence here would not be helpful, we need to delve and discuss in order to carve out a place of Art in an austere society where, for good or ill, respect is increasingly difficult to maintain for anything which is not incontestably pragmatic.

As well as being a forum for artists , the Artists' Bonfire is also open for non-participants to attend, and with a club night afterwards there is a definite element of entertainment and spectacle. With this in mind I wish to further analyse the event in terms of its identity as a collaborative performance, which can be viewed and experienced aesthetically by an audience. Returning to the above argument pertaining to the problem of how we treat artworks, it is necessary to further define why a reverent attitude towards art can be construed as unhelpful in audiences as well as artists. From the viewpoint of a spectator, as I was at last years event, if the Artists’ Bonfire is essentially a way to reaffirm the credibility of art and creativity, it is somewhat disconcerting that the treatment of art during the event/performance runs contrary to traditional defences of art against iconoclasm. Such defences have sought to ideologically raise art above political or religious persecution on the grounds that it is autonomous, and therefore should not be judged by any criteria other than that which has purely to do with art itself.

However, considering art to be autonomous is perhaps not as advantageous as it may seem; Michael Kelly argues that identifying art in this way engenders a 'disinterested' attitude towards it. In this context 'disinterest' is taken in both the philosophical, and every day sense². Kelly locates iconoclasm in this 'disinterested' understanding of art as autonomous, an interpretation which is particular to modern and contemporary art, turning a traditional and historical view of what iconoclasm looks like on its head. To elucidate further; disinterest in philosophical terms, originally defined by Immanuel Kant in his Critique of Judgement³, calls for art to be apprehended independently of bodily desires. Kelly argues that this type of disinterestedness consequently breeds disinterest in terms of a general indifference towards art. This is not to suggest that all art should be politically committed in order to have credibility, rather that art and creativity can be part of life along with eating, shitting, having sex and walking to the shops. Art does not have to be partially incomprehensible and removed from the mundane, necessary and genuinely exciting parts of life.

With this in mind, art which admits annihilation necessarily by dint of the materials from which it is made, or how it is employed by the artist, confounds the viewer’s ability to appreciate with philosophical disinterestedness. Danger, disgust and recognition act as a barrier to reverence. In terms of the Artists' Bonfire, whereby art works which may not have been initially intended to decay into oblivion, are wilfully destroyed by the artist, this dissension from disinterested appreciation is intensified. This is because, referring back to my earlier point about the 'normal' way to treat works of art, the pledges which are incinerated during the event/performance have often been removed by their creator from their 'normal' situation. This cannot be taken as writ, submissions would be welcome from those who work within ephemeral media, but nonetheless work in relatively traditional media is the norm.

Therefore, the vast majority of work submitted does not coincide with what we would usually recognise as temporary art work, which is intended to decay as part of its directive. In 2011 there were no pieces made with food or bodily matter that would ordinarily deteriorate when exposed to air and moisture, rather there was paper, wood, wax and glass, which when consigned to flames cracked, melted, crumbled and decomposed at an alarming rate. I don't pretend to claim that this rejection of philosophical disinterestedness makes the pledges more 'interesting' in every day terms for every spectator, rather that the nature of the Artists' Bonfire as exciting, destructive, voyeuristic and sensual does not detract from its' status as serious art.

1Gamboni, Dario The Destruction of Art: Iconoclasm and Vandalism since the French Revolution Reaktion Books Ltd. (1997)

2Kelly, Michael Iconoclasm in Aesthetics Cambridge University Press (2003)

3Kant, Immanuel Critique of Judgement First published (1914)

Not-Books

Maurice Carlin's Not-Books

These unnamed works by Maurice Carlin are books and are not-books, as much as they are sculptures and drawings. They embody components, which are associated with each of these different methods of artistic presentation, and do not entirely belong to any category. They are ambiguous objects in multiple ways, flowing and switching before us like the paradoxical imagery of visual riddle. As Paul Chan states; “art is more and less than a thing”¹, a statement, which is directly appropriate to this analysis; while a book has book-ness, there can be no art-ness. Invoking a theory similar to Plato's forms, Chan suggests that we can recognise every day objects due to their utility and their relation to every other object of their type, arguing that art cannot, or should not be recognised in this way. According to Chan a work of art does not have utility in the same way as, say, a hammer, and it does not in it's physical form relate to all other works of art.

However, it is worth pointing out that there is an image or conception in contemporary cultural consciousness, which helps people to recognise the stuff in galleries or standing in city squares as 'art', and it's function is to be looked at, considered and walked past slowly. There is ritual associated with experiencing art, just as there is ritual associated with reading. Is it part of the artists' job to try and counteract this? To create art which cannot be recognised as such? Is this even possible in an age where the sarcastic reply; 'what is art, though' is liable to be levelled by any school child in response to the equally recognisable dismissal 'that's not art!'. Amongst other things, these unnamed works, these not-books explore the dilemma outlined above; whether it is compulsory to try and escape the category 'art', or whether it is acceptable to submit to the ritual. They admit their object-hood, relating visually to everything we associate with the idea of 'book', yet they also hang upon the wall as 'art' should, and as such they succeed in being more, or less than neither, and this seems almost too easy; a trick. I intend to explore how the unnamed works' recognisable status as books interacts with their status as art objects, and whether these various conditions jar with one another, or percolate back and forth with ease.

In their display and in the way that they have been assembled these works confound the traditional utility of the book, which is poignantly also at present being diminished by digital and on-line means of reading, and the physical book itself is acquiring new properties and uses. Whilst it is important to re-assert that these unnamed works are not fully books, and that they embody elements of sculpture, drawing and installation also, due to their book-ness current debates around the death of the traditional book are directly appropriate to their analysis. The idea of a recognisable, everyday object, in this case the book, losing it's purpose is interesting when considered in conjunction with how the art object is defined by Chan. When a used object becomes obsolete, perhaps it takes on something of the art object, it certainly would seem to be more or less than the thing it once was.

It is pertinent at this point to briefly define the 'death of the book' argument as it has been made in numerous articles and publications; A bound book with paper pages is no longer necessary in order to ‘perform’ a reading. Peter Kivy, evoking Nelson Goodman's terminology, defines the contents of a book as allographic; “the novel is a reading art, it exists in its reading”². We are of course not discussing novels in this particular instance, but in this context the analysis can be applied to anything found within a book. It is the invention of electronic reading devices, which is often characterised as aggressively seeking to eradicate the traditional, physical book, and the book is defined in opposition to all digital media. A customary counter argument to the 'book is dead' hypothesis concentrates on the book as an object in itself, rather than its' function. The book is characterized as a sentimental keepsake, an individual and tangible repository for memories, which contradicts a portrayal of the book, as simply the physical receptacle of a work of literature, which can exist and be read in different places and times. The book is imbued with characteristics of the scrapbook, and the collage; it is infused with the personality of its owner/s, and its own unique history. This is a common motif, the book as battered and loved, perhaps a first edition, or an edition which belonged to somebody famous, but not really functioning as a book at all. Moreover there are further, still active connotations that make it difficult to abandon the book to its' creeping obsolescence. Literacy is by no means universal, and has of course in the past been especially limited to only the powerful few. The book still carries the weight of this authority, having held the exceptional power to transmit information outside of verbal communication, even if it is no longer necessary to fulfil this purpose.

This tension between obsolescence, power, and sentimentality evoked by the concept of the book in contemporary society is present in Maurice Carlin's not-books. They play out but also question Chan's assertion that “art is more or less than a thing”³. Hung from a wall they inhabit the physical space traditionally reserved for art, and in protruding outwards they become sculptural and architectural, whilst referring to an object; which is in the process of renouncing it's utility and perhaps becoming art-like in itself. They are sometimes pinned evocatively open, not unlike a specimen in a natural history museum, which can be seen to refer to their alledged disuse. After all, books shouldn't be left open, that might break the spine or expose the pages to damage; they are supposed to be closed upon a shelf, arranged in an orderly, linear fashion and opened only to be read. In this way Carlin's choice of display distances these works still further from the traditional and functional book.






Whilst these objects are stored, hung or displayed in ways, which can be seen to diminish their book-ness, their openness invites reading. Yet, this is confounded by the lack of recognisable words, written or printed on their pages. Instead we are confronted by what at first look like pictures, but not the kind of illustrations that might normally be found where text is lacking in a traditional book. What we are confronted with amid the pages of these not-books are neither pictures nor words, but rather ambiguous images and symbols which, due to their environment, demand to be read in some way. Rosalind Silvester and Alan English in their introduction to Reading Images and Seeing Words lament the lack of theories, which “provide...a vocabulary, for describing the transposition of image into word and conversely word into image”⁴. It seems that instead of being delineated into a conventional written language, such concerns have been explored by artists, such as Henri Michaux with Par la voie des rythmes. This work is a book/not-book, which functions strangely as do Carlin's; containing symbols, scribbles and ciphers; which can be described as 'asemic'. As Nina Paris describes, not-books such as these place the reader in “a somewhat awkward situation, for what appears to be an ordinary book cannot be read or understood in a conventional manner”⁵.

This concept of asemic writing⁶, a cousin of concrete poetry, is pertinent to the discussion of Carlin's not-books. It is a method of breaking down the boundaries between image and word, indeed the very existence of asemic writing suggests that recognisable written language is not necessary for 'reading', as defined by Peter Kivy, to occur. With a traditional text in a western language, in order to understand what has been written we would submit to a temporal succession of elements following a line from left to right, and top to bottom. However, it has been suggested that “although in images a temporal succession of elements cannot be found, it is always possible to find a succession of elements without temporality”⁷. There is certainly a succession of elements to be discerned within the pages of Carlin's not-books, and in this way an 'asemic reading' can be performed by the viewer.

These not-books share many of the characteristics of asemic writing or concrete poetry, they confound traditional western modes of reading, whilst inviting the viewer partake with their exposed pages, then refusing to provide direction. However they are not asemic compendiums or concrete anthologies; their succession of elements is fractured by their very form, they are books made wrong, that is, they have been put together wrong. Each sheet of paper, fastened down the centre to make two individual pages has an image printed upon it. However because of the way that these pages are fastened together with a centre fold, the two halves of an image, which the viewer is faced with at an opening do not match, although due to Carlin’s choice of imagery they do seem to somehow correspond. One side of the image flows into the fold, the vanishing point between the pages and then flows out again as something altogether different.

This makes for a dynamic reading experience, the lines of the images cannot be followed calmly, and the viewer is overtaken with curiosity as to what has been obscured from their view; both the other side of each image, and the combinations which would be revealed had the not-book fallen, or been pinned open differently. There are elements of choice and chance to be found here; due to the way in which we are shown two halves of two different images it is obvious that their corresponding parts are somewhere else in the not-book. Therefore, it becomes clear that these are not artistic props made to look like books, in a way they are actually books, the pages can be turned, and there will be something on each one. We must wonder why the artist has chosen to display these particular pages, when he could just as easily have shown any of the others. Our reading then becomes a search for significance. If we have been shown this combination of images above all the others, they must have something special to transmit to us, and if we decide that they do not, it is incredibly difficult as viewers to award them the same importance as the images which we cannot even see.

This almost involuntary hunt for significance in the combined images shown to us on the open pages of the not-books, is especially poignant if we know that the original images were found by the artist in newspapers. When considered in conjunction with this weighty tidbit of information about their construction, it might be tempting to see the not-books as collages or scrap-books, just as the traditional book can be viewed as a collage, or scrapbook of memories. Perhaps this is what the not-books are in a sense, although the fact that the images are printed on the actual paper of the pages, rather than projected on to them by the consciousness of the reader, or cut out and stuck in lends them an authenticity as 'books' rather than 'art'. After all, for a book to be truly a book is must be reproducible, so that it's contents can be apprehended in many places at once and any time. Thus, by virtue of their being printed these images have the potential to be allographic, like the contents of the newspaper from which they came. Again, and again Carlin's not-books produce a tension between artwork and functional object, and they are able to convey notions about their object-hood both as book and art. Uncertainty and uselessness, but also potential, are manifest is so many aspects of their appearance and construction. Partaking in an exploration of the relations between reading and looking, between art and object, the not-books seem to argue for a lack of boundaries, the directness and simplicity of which is refreshing.

1 Paul Chan “What Art Is and Where It belongs” e-flux journal #10 Nov 2009

2 Peter Kivy The Performance of Reading: an Essay on the Philosophy of Literature Blackwell: 2006 p.5

3 Chan, 2009

4Silvester, Rosalind & English, Alan “Introduction” in Reading Images and Seeing Words (2004) p.6

5Paris, Nina “Henri Michaux: Destruction of the Book Form and Creation of the Book-Object” in Rosalind & English Reading Images and Seeing Words (2004) p.20

6 www.asemic.net

7Leone, Massimo “Words, Images and Knots” in Rosalind & English Reading Images and Seeing Words (2004) p. 84

Bibliography

Chan, Paul What Art Is and Where It Belongs E-Flux journal #10 November 2009

Kivy, Peter The Performance of Reading: an essay on the philosophy of literature Blackwell Publishing:2006

Martin, Henri-Jean & Febvre, Lucien The Coming of the Book: the impact of printing 1450 – 1800 Verso:1976

Silvester, Rosalind & English, Alan eds. Reading Images and Seeing Words Rodopi:2004

http://cjcpig.wordpress.com/2011/0/14/the-book-has-no-place-in-modern-society-discuss/

This is an essay written in correspondence with The Self Publisher and Other Works, which is a culmination of Maurice Carlins residency at Banner Repeater in London.

SUNK COSTS

This exhibition is the result of a series of simplifications and expansions. We began with a capacious theme; the idea of decision making in contemporary society and began to discursively follow interesting strands and pathways leading outwards from this point. There are constellations of concepts linked to decision making, but drawing from our own life experiences and interests we have decided to pursue ‘games’ as an over-arching topic. Within our explorations you will find references to those games by name with which we are familiar in pop-culture, but also economic game theory, and the psychological workings of jokes and surprises. There is an emphasis on the infinitesimal yet unavoidable gap between seriousness and fun, stemming from the unclear and changeable difference between big serious decisions, and those which are frivolous and seemingly inconsequential.

When utilizing a mathematical approach in sociology and biology a broad and complex issue is reduced to a simple, tractable point which embodies the fundaments of the larger issue. The point can then be manipulated, represented in different ways and applied to different situations. It is, of course, dangerous to then expand the findings and results of such manipulations; applying them once more to a wide and complex issue which would have been impossible to play with in such a way. However, in this instance, with this exhibition we have decided that it is worth embracing the hazards of the method to explore our concerns.

We are using bold, oversized references to conspicuous, recognizable games, in order to create an immersive atmosphere. So much of the study and thought on decision making is represented in dry, academic, theoretical format which may not be satisfactory for the exploration of such a personal, emotion driven, and above all human topic. Therefore we have utilized vastly simplified visual and physical methods of representation, as a different way of looking at problems which would usually be found buried beneath layers of specialist vocabulary and convoluted equations. This isn’t to say that is it necessarily right to simplify complex ideas, we are not making that argument, rather we are playing on the way in which systems such as ‘Game Theory’ grow to have a reputation for being indecipherable; “overprecision in sending a message creates imprecision when it is received because precision is not clarity”¹.

1 Rasmusen, Eric. Games and information: 3^rd Edition 2001: Blackwell, p.5

All photographs credited to Daniel Fogarty

Daniel Fogarty

Working with leisure, browsing and reading, Daniel Fogarty's work is concerned with the simple act of listening as an interviewer would recount ideas and information only to retract, return to their desk and start annotating the anecdotes, tales, ramblings, names and references to extract the points of interest and publish. The work churns over the same land to proclaim nothing but what has re-emerged.

The York New-er

The York New-er is generated from a single issue of The New Yorker magazine. A new illustration emerges from various articles and illustrations, utilising familiar visual devices to imitate page layout and design. The New Yorker is a weekly magazine of reportage, commentary, criticism, essays, fiction, satire, cartoons and poetry. This model has been rehashed through mirroring, delivering a reduction of a series of articles. The final illustrations refer to models of behavoir to do with jokes; imitation, parody and stereotypes. However, in real terms, the images deliver nothing more than a rehash of 'current' issues from 1978 .

Wimbledon, Wentworth, Wembley, Whatever

Four images are reproduced in the series Wimbledon, Wentworth, Wembley, Whatever. They were taken from an advert for lawn mowers. The prototypal document offers a narrative of professionalism in an everyday garden and brings to mind an empty sports pitch, a game without any players (variables). Here, this original advertisement is misread. Instead of Wimbledon, Wentworth, Wembley, Wherever, the viewer is offered Wimbledon, Wentworth, Wembley, Whatever; a lackadaisical title, mocking those neat lawns and perverting their meaning, substituting effort and competition for complacency. As such, this series of drawings illustrates nothing in particular, a grazing of material, a set of illustrations, a back garden.

http://www.danielfogarty.co.uk/


Rachelle Fox

Rachelle is a graphic designer and illustrator based in Manchester. Having studied Graphic Design at Salford University, she has since been commissioned to create flyers and posters for many of Manchester’s premier music promoters. Her style is clean and precise, using pared down and stylized yet often ambiguous imagery.

Rachelle is available for commissions and projects, and can be contacted via her website;

http://www.rachellefox.co.uk/

The Sunk Costs series

As part of the Sunk Costs project, manifested here as an exhibition, Rachelle has been commissioned to create ‘posters’, as she might to advertise a music show or event. However here there is nothing in particular being advertised, but rather passages from an essay which constitutes the genesis of this project are illustrated in her signature style. The slightly muted primary colours and elementary shapes are evocative discarded and sun bleached board games. Complexity and lucidity are central to the prototypal theme of Sunk Costs, and in this series loaded and complex textual passages are made visual and toy-like. This conflates the typical connotations of academic study and theorizing with fun, games and jokes.

Lino cutting & printing workshop at Victoria Baths Zine Convention

In May 2011 I ran a lino cutting and relief printing workshop at the wonderful Victoria Baths Zine Convention, organised by the excellent http://www.theshriekingviolets.blogspot.com/ in collaboration with Future Everything.

The day was a great success with almost 600 attendees, and our 'make your own zine' laboratory was popular, as an inclusive addition to the basic zine convention format.

I wanted to make the workshop fun for people who already know how to make lino prints, and inspiring for those who're trying it for the first time.

Worksheet:



I made a few A3 posters of this quote by Dieter Roth, it just seems so appropriate to zine making and really advances the message that creativity is for everyone. It came out clearer in the photocopies, this is just a scan of the pasted together original:



I'd previously taken a bunch of pictures around the baths to print out and have as inspiration, because as we all know the hardest part about starting a picture is deciding what to draw, I won't put any of then up here though because there are absolutely loads and they aren't that interesting. It's a beautiful building and there are plenty of photo's, paintings and drawings of it elsewhere.

I was really pleased with how people got stuck in and spent some time cutting their own lino tile. I'd decided to theme the workshop around tiles (because they're a major part of the Baths' appeal) and little squares are just aesthetically pleasing in any context. There were some pretty young participants and their parents who took their tiles home, hopefully to do some more printing.

Here are the tiles I was left with:



a mixture of abstract, figurative and.... pigs. When a little lad far too young to really handle the cutting tools wanted to do a print he, of course, chose the pig.

Here's the fella who made it:



Another participant:



Here I am in corner cutting squares of paper for her to print on:


Here are the printed tiles that weren't taken home by people to show to their mums. I chose watery colours of differently textured papers to experiment with:





The End.