Tuesday, 26 February 2013
All Type
Anyway I just made a quick note as I passed by.
Sunday, 24 February 2013
Thursday, 21 February 2013
vanity fairish
a photo by paul g neale on Flickr.
to weather somewhere and slowly rot away.
Wednesday, 20 February 2013
Cave 1
Cave 1.jpg, a photo by paul g neale on Flickr.
Royal Cover.
"Good morning Philip !"
"Good morning Lizzie !"
"Philip, shall I wear my ridiculously bright blue dress today?"
" Absolutely old thing ! And I will wear my Ruritanian military uniform. You know, the one that makes me look like a North Korean general on acid.
Tuesday, 19 February 2013
Street Photography. Paris.
The Paris based photographer, Paul Muse (b.1961) has over twenty odd years of concentration on the craft and practice of photography under his belt. He has risen to a type of prominence in the dog eat dog world of street photography.
A scrutiny of his work on his ongoing daily website reveals an autobiographical project, a visual diary recalling tangentally the work of Ian Breakwell as well as other narratively inclined artists. One of the problems with the world these days is that any image from any place can be conjoured up on the monitor through the web. The trick is to bust through the inclination to do research on the web and just go out and take the damned images. Drunk, sober, stoned, it makes no difference. Night or day the guy is out there on the beat, pounding the streets. You want ironic and poetic? It's there. You want reflections and a type of wistfulness for things that can never happen? You got that too.
When text appears it is cropped or used in its entirety, with an ex-pat's sensibility. It is worth noting that Muse used to be a teacher of English as a Foreign Language and this sensitivity to the graphic representation of text in the world can be glimpsed.
A series of master classes with master printers when younger developed an eye for depth, tone, manipulation of saturation and dark moody shadows. These were not the only masters he learnt from on the route to discovering his own way.
Muse stands apart from mainstream photographers insofar as he knowingly occupies his own artistic and visual front line, doggedly returning from the front, time and time again. Why isn't he dead? We will never know. I think it is discipline and training. And having a poet's mind. I am the first to admit I know little of actual real poetry, but I think if one were to match Muse with a living writer in English, I would imagine Will Self would be a good match. There is tenderness in both in regards to their children for example, and a close up observational power. Trenchant scrutineers both.
It would be wrong however to call Muse a literary artist. He is a visual artist using the tools, strategies and communication channels that artists generally use. If they are at all savvy. Muse is pretty damned savvy and seems to live in a state of per ambulatory hyper awareness.
It is this restlessness that takes him past state sponsored signage and unsanctioned fragments including graffiti, torn posters, fliers and packaging graphics. Gritty parts of town.
Moving up a couple of social strata and we are presented with the illuminated signs and welcoming interiors of up market shops and boutiques. Artificial colour spills out onto damp pavements. Reflections of people and objects. Reversed fragmentation. Quite who or what is an actual solid presence rather than a reflection is something that requires some thought at times. Quite convincing hybrids loom close to the gaze.
Not all the daily images are of equal quality, which is inevitable if your aim is to put out an image day after day. And year after year. For ever. Is his ongoing task one of the longest on the web? Who knows? But it is quite an open thing to do; putting your development as photographer online. In cases such as this then it is the archive itself, the visual trove that should be regarded as the real artwork rather than individual items, although there are many separate sharp, witty, knowing and gemlike images.
I am rather amazed that he has time to organise everything though. His project is one of self portraiture essentially unfolding in real time.
Somewhere out there in cyber land there is a link to this work. It is www.yestodays.com I should go there if I were you.
A scrutiny of his work on his ongoing daily website reveals an autobiographical project, a visual diary recalling tangentally the work of Ian Breakwell as well as other narratively inclined artists. One of the problems with the world these days is that any image from any place can be conjoured up on the monitor through the web. The trick is to bust through the inclination to do research on the web and just go out and take the damned images. Drunk, sober, stoned, it makes no difference. Night or day the guy is out there on the beat, pounding the streets. You want ironic and poetic? It's there. You want reflections and a type of wistfulness for things that can never happen? You got that too.
When text appears it is cropped or used in its entirety, with an ex-pat's sensibility. It is worth noting that Muse used to be a teacher of English as a Foreign Language and this sensitivity to the graphic representation of text in the world can be glimpsed.
A series of master classes with master printers when younger developed an eye for depth, tone, manipulation of saturation and dark moody shadows. These were not the only masters he learnt from on the route to discovering his own way.
Muse stands apart from mainstream photographers insofar as he knowingly occupies his own artistic and visual front line, doggedly returning from the front, time and time again. Why isn't he dead? We will never know. I think it is discipline and training. And having a poet's mind. I am the first to admit I know little of actual real poetry, but I think if one were to match Muse with a living writer in English, I would imagine Will Self would be a good match. There is tenderness in both in regards to their children for example, and a close up observational power. Trenchant scrutineers both.
It would be wrong however to call Muse a literary artist. He is a visual artist using the tools, strategies and communication channels that artists generally use. If they are at all savvy. Muse is pretty damned savvy and seems to live in a state of per ambulatory hyper awareness.
It is this restlessness that takes him past state sponsored signage and unsanctioned fragments including graffiti, torn posters, fliers and packaging graphics. Gritty parts of town.
Moving up a couple of social strata and we are presented with the illuminated signs and welcoming interiors of up market shops and boutiques. Artificial colour spills out onto damp pavements. Reflections of people and objects. Reversed fragmentation. Quite who or what is an actual solid presence rather than a reflection is something that requires some thought at times. Quite convincing hybrids loom close to the gaze.
Not all the daily images are of equal quality, which is inevitable if your aim is to put out an image day after day. And year after year. For ever. Is his ongoing task one of the longest on the web? Who knows? But it is quite an open thing to do; putting your development as photographer online. In cases such as this then it is the archive itself, the visual trove that should be regarded as the real artwork rather than individual items, although there are many separate sharp, witty, knowing and gemlike images.
I am rather amazed that he has time to organise everything though. His project is one of self portraiture essentially unfolding in real time.
Somewhere out there in cyber land there is a link to this work. It is www.yestodays.com I should go there if I were you.
Sunday, 17 February 2013
Thursday, 14 February 2013
Monday, 11 February 2013
Sunday, 10 February 2013
Aid@Abet and K.Y Jelly
Hauled myself out of exile in the back of beyond and traipsed over to Kettle's Yard where Aid and Abet, Cambridge's premier artist run space, have put on a show in the gallery's truncated viewing areas.
The show is called "Temporary Residence" and in the gallery there were works by six artists plus additional interventions in the House by two more, who I was unable to check out. Sorry Annabel Dover and Iain Paxon. Another time I promise.
For me the highlights of the show were Martyn Cross, Sean Vicary and Lisa Wilkens. Although it has to be said that Kevin Hunt's spare, ink soaked wooden elements, Richard Proffitt's funky voodoo and Lord of the Flies inflected piece and Rosanna Greaves' sound sculpture were equally compelling.
Sean Vicary's short film with its animated shells, small animal skeletons , lizards and rotating rotting fruit was poetry in motion.The landscape imagery has hints of Paul Nash, and a type of sense of wonder and mystery that that being alone in the weirdness and peculiarity of the countryside can sometimes provoke. Vicary has
said that he is interested in the internal and external notions of landscape and its politicization.
In fact he has made a lush and lyrical piece about a specific place and set of feelings. And it has pretty good production values and crisp editing too, and a haunting sound track.
Lisa Wilkens was represented by a set of lithographic prints with letterpress additions for the captions.
The work would be quite a slap in the face if you were expecting conventional portraits. Instead she presents us with something altogether more tricky. Her "prevented portraits" consist of a series of identical masked faces.Even the round eye holes provide nothing but darkness to peer into. These are really sheltered identities.Enclosed personalities. Who does the enclosing and why is a different matter. People are masked for many reasons, not all of them readily acceptable. There is also something otherworldly about the use of lithography, a traditional medium which Wilkens has employed to articulate a specific set of contemporary concerns.
Martyn Cross works with collage. In this set of works he demonstrates his almost obsessive interest in a certain type of garishly coloured and slightly deranged, but nevertheless idealised, men women and children.
Culled from knitting pattern magazines, his characters are slightly hallucinatory in their visual intensity.They have also been slightly subverted. There are more eyes than strictly necessary in some cases, and beards sprout luxuriantly and unexpectedly. One or two of his children seem to be enjoying a crafty roll up. A skull is suspended from a staff.These guys inhabit some radioactive land. There's no catastrophic damage, but the meltdown at the local plant has had consequences.
There are hints of cult movies here. Wicker Man springs to mind as does Eraserhead. It's the unease. Not surprisingly Val Doonican and the Blue Peter kids programme are also in the mix. It's the jumpers you see.
Back in the 70's Doonican was as well know for his taste in sweaters as his pleasant Irish accented crooning.And the Blue Peter team always wrapped up well in their woolies.
And so threatened by the characters that Cross has dreamed up, I retreat. The fixed expressions and the threat of primitive weapons from these knitwear clad mutants are driving me away to the bookshop.It is time to re-read The Midwich Cuckoos.
aidandabet.co.uk www.yateheads.blogspot.co.uk rosannagreaves.com
www.kevin-hunt.co.uk www.richardproffitt.co.uk www.seanvicary.com
www.lisawilkens.com www.annabeldover.com
The show is called "Temporary Residence" and in the gallery there were works by six artists plus additional interventions in the House by two more, who I was unable to check out. Sorry Annabel Dover and Iain Paxon. Another time I promise.
For me the highlights of the show were Martyn Cross, Sean Vicary and Lisa Wilkens. Although it has to be said that Kevin Hunt's spare, ink soaked wooden elements, Richard Proffitt's funky voodoo and Lord of the Flies inflected piece and Rosanna Greaves' sound sculpture were equally compelling.
Sean Vicary's short film with its animated shells, small animal skeletons , lizards and rotating rotting fruit was poetry in motion.The landscape imagery has hints of Paul Nash, and a type of sense of wonder and mystery that that being alone in the weirdness and peculiarity of the countryside can sometimes provoke. Vicary has
said that he is interested in the internal and external notions of landscape and its politicization.
In fact he has made a lush and lyrical piece about a specific place and set of feelings. And it has pretty good production values and crisp editing too, and a haunting sound track.
Lisa Wilkens was represented by a set of lithographic prints with letterpress additions for the captions.
The work would be quite a slap in the face if you were expecting conventional portraits. Instead she presents us with something altogether more tricky. Her "prevented portraits" consist of a series of identical masked faces.Even the round eye holes provide nothing but darkness to peer into. These are really sheltered identities.Enclosed personalities. Who does the enclosing and why is a different matter. People are masked for many reasons, not all of them readily acceptable. There is also something otherworldly about the use of lithography, a traditional medium which Wilkens has employed to articulate a specific set of contemporary concerns.
Martyn Cross works with collage. In this set of works he demonstrates his almost obsessive interest in a certain type of garishly coloured and slightly deranged, but nevertheless idealised, men women and children.
Culled from knitting pattern magazines, his characters are slightly hallucinatory in their visual intensity.They have also been slightly subverted. There are more eyes than strictly necessary in some cases, and beards sprout luxuriantly and unexpectedly. One or two of his children seem to be enjoying a crafty roll up. A skull is suspended from a staff.These guys inhabit some radioactive land. There's no catastrophic damage, but the meltdown at the local plant has had consequences.
There are hints of cult movies here. Wicker Man springs to mind as does Eraserhead. It's the unease. Not surprisingly Val Doonican and the Blue Peter kids programme are also in the mix. It's the jumpers you see.
Back in the 70's Doonican was as well know for his taste in sweaters as his pleasant Irish accented crooning.And the Blue Peter team always wrapped up well in their woolies.
And so threatened by the characters that Cross has dreamed up, I retreat. The fixed expressions and the threat of primitive weapons from these knitwear clad mutants are driving me away to the bookshop.It is time to re-read The Midwich Cuckoos.
aidandabet.co.uk www.yateheads.blogspot.co.uk rosannagreaves.com
www.kevin-hunt.co.uk www.richardproffitt.co.uk www.seanvicary.com
www.lisawilkens.com www.annabeldover.com
Thanks Dad !
What can you say about a birthday that has not been said before? Not much I guess, although you can drink at breakfast time, I have discovered. In this sense it is a bit like Christmas. It is too early in the day to go into any serious introspection. The year has been pretty average. The kids grow, I don't. The students develop. I don't. In both respects I watch people's development in terms of language and thought and I suppose I am partly responsible, or equally, to blame. Life goes on although well over half of my mortal tariff has expired. And will continue to expire, day after day, until the next annual "click!" My children devour my birthday gifts of chocolates. My wife admitted she has no idea of my waist or inner leg sizes and consequently my new jeans will need to be taken back to the emporium from which they were purchased.This is sad for more than the obvious reason.
Would I buy a Harley Davidson motorcycle to compensate? No. Can't stand bikes. Or cars. Would I go back to being a martial artist? Don't be daft. I think I should really spend this year recuperating my drawing skills.And developing my computer skills. Such as they are.
My children still speak to me, sometimes my wife does too, which sometimes is even less than fraught with hazard but generally involves walking on eggshells.
I am not sure that being 55 is a big deal per-se, but it seems to have stirred some feelings of unease.
However, I posted this image to cheer myself up. St.Valentine's Day is coming up and I can be totally sure there will be no cards. And we've been eating horse for years without knowing.
But my goodness, isn't a camera a wonderful thing? And the ability to draw and paint? Key skills I am fortunate enough to have inherited. Thanks Dad.
Would I buy a Harley Davidson motorcycle to compensate? No. Can't stand bikes. Or cars. Would I go back to being a martial artist? Don't be daft. I think I should really spend this year recuperating my drawing skills.And developing my computer skills. Such as they are.
My children still speak to me, sometimes my wife does too, which sometimes is even less than fraught with hazard but generally involves walking on eggshells.
I am not sure that being 55 is a big deal per-se, but it seems to have stirred some feelings of unease.
However, I posted this image to cheer myself up. St.Valentine's Day is coming up and I can be totally sure there will be no cards. And we've been eating horse for years without knowing.
But my goodness, isn't a camera a wonderful thing? And the ability to draw and paint? Key skills I am fortunate enough to have inherited. Thanks Dad.
Monday, 4 February 2013
Friday, 1 February 2013
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