Tuesday, December 20, 2011

#DubCon11 Best Review Award

Dublin Contemporary 2011
Curated by Jota Castro and Christian Viveros-Faune
Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin
6th September - 31st October, 2011

By Darren Caffrey

 Dublin Contemporary 2011 was a big ask. We are, in this country, often adrift of the curve, somewhere between a second thought and a small wish. In this respect, the whole conception from beginning to end was a true achievement in its ambition and also in its disregard for the rules of play. Let us not consider the politics surrounding the event as anything more than reality, no doubt one from which a lot will be learnt, and taken by those who must.

What is more is that thing called art, or at the very least, experience, and this is where the most value can be drawn. Broad, spectacular, light and deliberately opposing, it is perhaps then a funny thing to say that the expression of the works as a whole was portentously political. The building itself, a cadaverretrieved from back in the days when it facilitated science lectures, reflects well the type of ideology which has reanimated its shell, a kind of digging which is bound to lead to something of note being found that will support life.

Quarry, Niamh O' Malley, 2011

But still no art has been discussed, so why not begin with the work of Niamh O’Malley? Her cinematic quietude presented us with the bricks and mortar of decay. A moving piece, the simplicity of
Quarry is its grace, each scene slowly revealed as an uncomplicated process of soft focus, gently introducing us to more weighty forms. In its visual form, the material truth of stone is represented as something found closer to our own experiences than the cold, hard silence that it may initially evoke. The simplified conditions of darkness and silence are in superb contrast to the black fabric screen which acts to hold in place the subtly of the video work, while still allowing for the obvious monumentality of each new revelation. Prior to this revealing, the visual suggests a type of pile-up which is synonymous with horrific images of corpses lying at the bottom of a trench. It is only through the second take of each scene that we are allowed to put that sort of worrying interpretation down and replace it with a considerably more solid understanding. If life too is so rewarding, then the degree of maturity exhibited by O’Malley is an enlightening prospect.

Untitled, Jannis Kounellis, 2009

The opportunity to wrangle together those names adjudged to be ‘big’ in terms of international art was, by and large, resisted. Be it expense or choice or a mixture of each, there was still room for Jannis Kounellis, whose work was placed next to that of David Adamo at the far end of what appeared to resemble a school gym. The work of the latter, consisting of wooden sleepers stood upright, their sides visibly chipped away, reveal forms that verge somewhere close to an edge, as implied merely by the fact of their standing. In the work by Kounellis, a wire mesh has been adorned with large pieces of wood, each one strikingly gold and special: the flotsam and jetsam as salvaged from the wreckage of a dreamer’s voyage. Coats hanging in front of these gold flashes bring to mind a taste similar to that of Joseph Beuys, and in-so-doing theatre is illuminated by a relatable character. No doubt the incantation of Beuys is my own but the room is no less provided, even if it is at first dwarfed by the status that has been appointed to the issue of value and power. However, in many ways it just looks like big art in small hands.

The Cradle, Wang Du, 2007

The biggest work on show was arguably
Cradle by Wang Du. Created in 2007, the interactivity of its rock-a-bye feeling, complete with video mobiles hanging high in clusters of TV screens, extends the invite for all to join the mass bed-in. As an offering, it displays the many semi-objective viewing points from which to witness perpetual news feeds. At its core, the experience is a tactile and belittling one. It appears to illustrate with play, the mechanisms of war in contemporary times, aided on all sides by the expression of a voice for a people. Du tells us in no uncertain terms that the comfort is real but the truth is clearly worsening. Clearly due attention must be paid to the news of most general significance and also as apparent, the latter is growing according to its mass market. Of course there is nothing wrong with this added exposure as long as there is an awareness to the responsibility as a result. You cannot un-know and thanks to this work, the argument against knowing is weakening always; the trouble may be that we don’t particularly care, just as long as we’re comfortable. And it’s big and, if possible, larger than life.

This Could be a Place of Historical Importance, Braco Dimitrijevic, 1971 - 78

White Flag, Ella Burke, 2011

The staircase which wraps the walls leading you up and down the building shows two works that might almost go unnoticed amongst the buzz of art and ‘free class’ enthusiasm. A piece by Braco Dimitrijevic is titled and reads “This Could be a Place of Historical Significance” and in its placing there is a sense of humour and joy at the pointlessness of its statement. Gold painted lettering inscribed into white carrara marble; it is completely placeless, subscribing only to the realms of an English speaking world, it might well be universal in its application and expression. If it says nothing, it matters not what it says. A work by Irish artist Ella Burke hangs between floors and although it cannot be touched, it’s title White Flag suggests that it may be blown. However the added weight from the thick layer of white paint covering the flag means that no little effort is required to get the winds up, but perhaps she is saying just that it is possible. Visually this work represents dirty washing more so than any identifiable nation but in this case the fact that it speaks of no place means only that where it is, in turn implies an identity that overrides all other readings. A shabby kind of glow emanating through a solitary voice, the flag has been turned on its side so that now it shows a blank portrait where once a tricolour shone brightly.

Market Crash, William Powhida, 2007

There is no need to buy into the recession to be a part of the dialogue and art is no different to any other industry in this respect, somehow managing to develop the groundwork for a creative sector that can promote and profit thanks to the popularisation of culture as a commodity. William Powhida, a New York based artist is aware of this discrepancy in the numbers. His showing consisted of skilled and intriguing watercolour re-workings of pages from, or possibly imaginings of, his life in the lens of celebrity. Whatever his life, his work displays a broad awareness: in one piece he outlines a draft statement entitled
A Philosophy of the Super Wealthy, or the 1%, and although the space it occupies is modest, the message to the 99% is glaringly obvious. Amongst the mock philosophies, he puts it to us that “No Income? No Employment?” means that you are in the eyes of the 1% a “high-yield, high-risk investment vehicle.” It is tempting to claim some form of bankruptcy or to just turn the board over and start again, but the game is stacked it seems and be it the iron or the old boot, new dice must be sought.

A Great Big Joke, Assaf Gruber, 2010

And so as though to further underline our plight, the biggest joke was told by Assaf Gruber, an Israeli artist apparently born in Jerusalem. Using simply a projection of a climbing man played on loop over a frieze-like image of the crucifixion of Jesus, small tiny mirrors disrupt parts of the image as they stand erect on top of metal supports which in turn stand in the middle of the floor. Like on-lookers who have been facing the wrong way the whole time, they might well be reflecting the misplaced trust that we hold in gods and machines when greeting the truly spiritual experience of life. There is, it appears, a desire to feast on death and danger in order to progress, but replacing that with the bigger picture shows us that art is neither, and that no matter what the source, belief is founded on an essentially human scale. In terms of the work itself, considering that it manages to illustrate our loss with such eloquence, it is probably only right to overlook its horrible presentation, crammed into a space not big enough for a dog to feel free. Another work by the same artist explores the tensions of sculpture in a way which not only suggests that the flawed installation of A Great Big Joke was a curatorial error but also that the artist’s own understanding of life is in itself a sculptural model. At the very least, in this light, life can be as hilarious as any scriptwriters attempt to can humour. Presented in a ridiculously small room at the end of a long hallway, short clips taken from mainstream movies are re-identified as each being “A Study in Sculpture”. Everything from sci-fi to romantic comedies of the 80’s have here been refocused as measurements with which to locate the formal attributes of a sculptural approach and insight.

Rebuilt and Unfinished, Matt Calderwood, 2011

Given that the spaces in Earlsfort Terrace have gone through as little face-lift as possible in preparation for their latest use, it might be nice to mention two works which incorporate space as a fluid rather than a solid, subject rather than object. In another curiously tight space, a video work by Matt Calderwood shows us how he once made six sculptures using the same 6 parts each time round. This may sound less than it looks and all that can be said is how with the inclusion of basic geometry and clever artistic choices relating to setting and form, nearly every work comes alive as a distinct and complete whole. There is an absence of both conceit and failure, and as we watch him make moves toeffect the shape before us, there is a tendency toward spellbinding mystique, as though something in the shape of the forms in fact made it impossible to be wrong. All in all, it amounts to an enjoyable jigsaw, wherein each piece is replaceable with its copy and although you know nothing would change, the form is still somehow kept in motion. When I was there,
Dublin Contemporary was a busy place and the constant stream did indeed help to soften the senses to the hardwearing motifs, punched out heavy-handed by artists who often gave less than they took.

Detail Horror Vacuii, Alejandro Almanza Pereda, 2011

Horror Vacuii, Alejandro Almanza Pereda, 2011

Although less poetic than Calderwoods’ plasterboard forms,
Horror Vacuii by Alejandro Almanza Pereda did reach a high enough point of expression that he can be seen as justified in destroying the painting which supports his work. Consisting of just this painting, a wooden frame and concrete, and with only the bottom third of the painting visible, we are invited to concede that our relationship with value is one that is not in itself as valuable as the fact that we firstly perceive value to be a living thing. We are never informed as to what the whole painting looks like or indeed if it is a particularly well known work, all we know is that the concrete mound which fixes it to the wall is now part of, and essential to, the perception that we hold. All that is left is for us to decide the balance of give and take and perhaps even whether or not art is so easily pinned down. In this instance, it is clear that a construction no longer present was required if ever the art and the gallery were to be seen as one.

Such is the size and temporality of the whole exhibition that a mark made on the building by Maser might well be the longest lasting contribution. It falls then to where it leaves us now, which is: that without a show of this type, is Ireland losing out? Our only response can be to make use of the time that it has afforded to art in Ireland and hope that its failings will not give an impression separate from that of the people who were asked to pay to see the world around them. October in Ireland saw a great expanse widened further and has served to demonstrate the measure of politics to be indistinguishable from the expression of the people.

The fact alone that practically every space in Dublin made efforts to take part in the project represents good value for money in anyone’s eyes. Also it highlights the willingness of private galleries to absorb the benefits of our nation’s Minister for Art and Tourism being until quite recently one and the same individual. It was anticipated that
Dublin Contemporary would mimic the success of the Venice Biennale. Having never been, I can’t say, but it can hardly amount to the same thing. Of course we are entitled to believe in the possibility of action and engage in arenas which are maybe less traditionally ventured but a sense of realism is all you need if not to feel disappointed when it turns out that the party wasn’t quite what you had hoped for.

Ireland approaching its centenary as an independent state has perhaps never been so directly bonded to the workings of international influence. With now the EU, IMF and broadly speaking, the global markets, seemingly putting added demands on government, we are in the line of fire for all sorts of reasons external to the realities which here and now face us. The social imperative of this is that we weigh up pros and cons of our diminished sovereignty, in particular with respect to understanding how we are seen and how we see ourselves.

The Earth Seen from the Moon, Maarten Vanden Eynde, 2005

This said, Belgian artist Maarten Vanden Eynde has come eerily close to the true identity of our psychological crisis as a nation. His work
The Earth seen from the Moon incidentally made in 2005, occupying one of the many small rooms upstairs, manages to illustrate the deficit of ‘us and them’ simply by pointing a telescope at a blue helmet. Once seemingly worn by U.N. peacekeepers, its marks indicate how vital a piece of equipment it actually is in places where peace is constantly under challenge. Given Ireland’s pseudo-neutrality, our armed forces have traditionally been put to use in places just like this. Having for a long period been close to the threat of violence, our involvement in UN missions is surely reflective of our unwillingness to return to anything like the volatility and social upheaval of past events in our nation’s history. When you look down the lens of this telescope, you spy the United Nations emblem of our planet as seen from above, wrapped as it is by olive branches. The telescope is white. As a view from the moon, our world appears barely significant, and a closer view only reveals greater damage on the helmet’s surface.

Consequence is, according to the exhibition catalogue, “a science of first things”. It is perhaps also a fear of consequence that drives the more economically vulnerable nations like ourselves deeper into the illusion. The illusion being that if we as a society are well behaved, then we will be taken care of, and that ultimately peace will remain. Even with economic contagion, a real consequence of interconnected markets, surely the measure of our acts will be felt first of all by ourselves. This is of course once we don’t make the mistake of confusing permission with capability. It would seem that the further the challenge is put upon the world’s impoverished, the closer it comes to be resolvable only as a condition of war. This is not exclusively true of Ireland but as we can see from the United Nations’ flag, we are all standing under the one umbrella, and pushing and shoving will no doubt lead more and more to fall.

If it might be taken that
Dublin Contemporary is a timely opportunity to sense a global voice from within the many expressions made, then observing the rise in political awareness as a response to low levels of trust in state politics on an almost global scale is maybe a gift that will keep giving. We are not so much told any longer that these are uncertain times, instead it is taken as a given. The problem with this is that weakened politics at home are undermined further by influences which really have no bearing on our future other than fear and the resulting threat of war, instability, famine or worse, political excommunication. The fear is what gets you. Fear of the moon may once have kept us at a distance, she was a goddess, a harbinger of dreams, a fiction. Having been, it is now widely accepted that it’s a rock. No less magnificent or beautiful but it is no longer an object of art. This means only that we must express responsibility as equal to any conceived advantage. So too is it true on a smaller scale, whereby our intentions may only ever be confused if it persists that Ireland sees itself as openly and overly subject to the host of external forces and self-interested bodies. The moon still spins, a full rotation roughly every 27 earth days. However it took outside observation to identify why for most of us it seems to always be the same side that we see.

Volution, Alicia Frankovich, 2011

From within the main building at Earlsfort Terrace, art is alive and well. Talk of whether there will be another Contemporary inevitably falls short of any type of real commitment and it will as such remain to be seen. Of course one of the great things about art is its ability to show us something in a new way. Berlin based artist Alicia Frankovich showed a video work downstairs entitled
Volution, in which young multi-ethnic individuals encircle one another. Were a still to be taken, it might imply aggression and oppression but as these individuals move continuously around their definably urban space, dance is all which comes to mind. In the end, no one is hurt.

All photos by the author.

Friday, December 16, 2011


Alan Butler, Vera Klute, Barbara Knezevic, James Merrigan and Sheila Rennick
Royal Hibernian Academy
7th September – 23rd October 2011
Review by Darren Caffrey
FUTURES 11 is the third in the present series of FUTURES, a sequence of exhibitions that endeavours to document and contextualise the work of a selection of artists around who exists a growing critical and curatorial consensus. The FUTURES 11, selected by Patrick T. Murphy, Director and Ruth Carroll, Curator, are Alan Butler, Vera Klute, Barbara Knezevic, James Merrigan and Sheila Rennick.
Family and familiarity, evoked through dull lifeless colours, exemplify the reality of the mechanism. Served to us behind a frame of blinking eyelids, the machine flicks repetitively. In a world of static objects, what Vera Klute gives us is equally comfortable and disturbing, but the relationship is minimal and so the best we can guess is that the life goes on beneath the surface. The eyes themselves give nothing away, instead they are forced by a switch to follow an endless sequence wherein blinking might in fact cause one to miss the trick altogether.
Vera Klute, Franz Klute, Beate Klute, 2011, oil on paper, motor, sting
Using photography, video and pencil-drawing, CPR alludes to accident but never really arrives at that degree of freedom. This level of control is matched by the craftsmanship of the work, tidily presented to us as a bundle of interrelated, but framed, and as such, distinct pieces. Two plastic tubes feed down from the high ceiling, appearing to fill what is a gorgeous animation of a heart-like pepper pumping from right to left. Next to this, a light-bulb flashes on/off according, it would seem, to the very literal and once again mechanical leg-work of two pieces of cardboard, pivoted so as to connect leg to foot, each step made upon a raised platform. Jumbled up in the passage between all of this cause and effect is a series of works which echo the meat / machine metaphor. Central to this is a notably more subtle and delicate work, in which a tangle of grey wool in the form of a photographic print has been bedded into her own hand-drawn anatomical reproduction. Shaded lines reveal a pelvic floor with a certain gentility, softness and femininity that reflects the lines of her other works on show.
Vera Klute, Es hat sich schonmal einer tot geruhrt 2011, plaster, motor, string
Vera Klute, Public Pool, 2011, pencil and ink on paper
In Public Pool, fine line drawings appear suspended at the top of long rolls of paper, much of which is left untouched. It is perhaps in the buoyancy of these figures that the symbolic motif of depth is most apparent; heads somewhere out of sight maybe representing the depth of life as somewhere between breathless and vital. Nonetheless there is a resolute austerity to the hands which hold on to spoons limp-wristedly digging at nothing in the work Es hat sich schonmal einer tot geruhrt which apparently translates asthe people have stirred themselves to death.
James Merrigan, Detail: (exterior), night-knight, 2011
Entering into the space commandeered by the landing of Merrigans night-knight there is something interesting about the obviously cheap and tacky reflective exterior. Perhaps this is reduced by the emanation of noises and voices, but no less the curiosity remains. Standing beside one of the more successful video works which comes as part and parcel of the whole installation, you cannot help but feel excited. Through a mix of seamless editing and clever use of text, itself only effective as an evocation rather than necessarily a communication of the poetic, he has managed to make an extremely watchable five second piece. Perhaps not as impressive as it sounds but well worth seeing, if only for his neat execution.
James Merrigan, Detail: night-knight, 2011, video / audio installation
Watching this video, you can also hear the phrase night-knight as it loops from behind the silver packaging in which this installation has effectively been wrapped. Somethings going on, and inside, references indeed to night and knights, flight and a few small surprises including the odd advertisement, ultimately spray out in a somewhat confused cacophony of structure and distraction. At the centre of this temporary built circular structure at least two distinctly digitised voices can be heard discussing the word ‘décollage’, an apparently etymological curio, relating either to philosophy or airplanes. In any event, much of the work within the space only serves to distract and confuse, not in a way that offers additional realities but instead there is a sense of insubstantial intervention and perhaps simply over-thinking.
James Merrigan, night-knight, 2011, video / audio installation
Very certainly there is an over-stimulation without there ever being quite enough to satisfy. Blue fairy lights and shards of broken plastic, bound using silver electrical tape, are accompanied by a nearby video and sound work relaying a piston or some form of fuel injection or something vaguely similar; it matters not as the effect is one which ends up only conveying distance and a lack of visual cohesiveness. This is not to say that the overall tone of the various works is somehow mismatched, in fact the ‘madeness’ of the whole thing is a universal and again somewhat human sized welcome, resulting in what might be often regarded as a DIY aesthetic, as though somehow simply putting up a shelf was never enough. Crowning the installation, there stands a big wheel which is both tactile and indeed a welcome opportunity to revive the realm of unknown possibility. As the wheel spins with a giddy grace, supposedly the question is when will you die and it would seem at least that some of us are immortal or perhaps we are merely being ignored.
Sheila Rennick, Thump Thump, 2011, acrylic on paper
Continuing on with the theme of art and fantasy, Sheila Rennick exposes a girlish attitude throughout her work. Represented exclusively by paintings, and surprisingly the only painter included in this year’s FUTURES selection, there is perhaps a lot that might be expected of these works. Curious, interesting and playful, three framed works on paper show a kissing couple; a crying boxer mid swing; and spiderman with a gun respectively. Conceptually there is perhaps no essential cross-over, but emotionality and the substance of paint in all its multiform, multicolour, and indeed many layered expressions, does liken her overall representation to a kind of modern day heroic adventurer. This journey takes her past dogs with sausages who appear to be making the best of their fidelity, and love in the form of a joke-filled, and at times violent, contradiction of spirit and despair.
Sheila Rennick, Wedding Gifts, 2011, oil on canvas
Overall, the paintings do not work as images however, and presumably she just loves paint. Using it as a construction tool, her application is relief and tonal, bright, textured and loose; no less it is restrained by her attention to the subject matter, ranging like an archway from death and aggression to sex and commitment. Rennick is doing work other painters like to avoid yet the picture does not say so much as the passion and for this we must be disappointed but intrigued by what else may come out of her play.
Sheila Rennick, The Wedding One, 2011, oil on canvas
Conversely, the work of Barbara Knezevic is all form, the image only a result of the object. These sculptural works stem apparently from quasi-cosmological crafts pertaining to the psychological experience of matter itself. A brown leather ball, which looks as though it has been taken from the feet of Pelé, hangs skewered by a downward pointed rod which in turn hangs weighted from the ceiling above. When I arrived it was in motion and I can only imagine that its life is found in this very action. The rules of art, ridiculous as they may be, are often blurred by human intervention. Sometimes this might result in the perceived destruction of work and other times it is the very lifeblood which the work needs to breathe. In this instance the swinging pendulum effect generates a beautiful, but quiet momentum wherein the power is implied but the impact is both real and felt.
Barbara Knezevic, Thought and its equivalents, 2011, vintage medicine ball, bronze, steel wire
Other materials employed by Knezevic include an orange power cable beginning at a socket as its point of energy, extending over to form an intricate and laborious weave before finally resulting to power a light bulb. Through her eyes, animal skin spread out on the gallery floor suggests a re-animation of the life it once held, and sticks bunched together stand upright, seemingly identifying nothing more than the symmetries employed. This is sculpture and so the colour of More Than the Sum of its Parts is a condition of its substance. Crayon cast in the form of a 50cm cube, this work sits within the landscape of her other works shown and indeed makes no concessions for being so out of place. It is not big enough to detract from the other works in this atypical constellation but the fact that it exists without fanfare allows one to be drawn in by its seemingly in-built geometric, art-inspired solution. A dark coloured cube, its dynamic is informed only by its waxy surface and the few imperfections brought about by its implied casting.
Barbara Knezevic,(near) Self-supporting objects, 2011, broomhandles, pallet bands (plus other works)
As an overall collection there is not always the room for free association and the energy of discovery is in turn less for some works than others. So too, the works effectiveness can be lost in what is a potentially intriguing playground for the astrophysicist to finally build his nerve and just talk to the girl like she is another human being from the same planet.
Alan Butler, (near) An Open Letter from Westboro Baptists Servants of God to Anonymous Coward Crybaby Hackers, 2011, ink and pencil on paper (far) Gaze of the…, 2008, altered Hannah Montana poster, bitumen
Alan Butlers installation work, a rainbow inspired, visually energetic contribution proved itself, perhaps appropriately enough, difficult to photograph. Its chimerical properties were due in large part to the reflective lustre of oily substance coupled with even more oily subjects. The pun is both intended and suited, as apart from a spinning poster and a drum kit that has been altered superficially by the addition of stick-on pepperoni pizza decals, not much was present; and yet the installation as a whole felt at least as involving and full as the created world of night-knight. This may be down to the artists use of video, where instead he might have showed simply what he can do with the free image, here the videos actually seem to offer this freedom to us in a very objective and understandable way.
Alan Butler, Still: Some Kind of Agitprop Monster, 2010, HD Video
By manipulating ready-made footage and sourced video clippings we are shown how the trick is done and it is done with exceptionally good timing. In one piece, the promotional advertisement for Sex in the City 2 is corrupted irreparably by the arrival of the likes of a hauntingly iconic Abu Ghraib prisoner, arms out, feet hovering above a bed. The warped presentation which this manifests is echoed by the struggle between two distinct entities. Consumerism or extremism? What the sides are seems not to matter, so much as that there are various lengths to which either might go in the interests of overcoming the threat of the other. Too, he shows how the result of this ‘agro’ may simply be humorous, a point well observed in the representation of a correspondence between a group of delusional artists and a group of deluded baptists. The winner is absolutely art but in a way that has only come about thanks to the abstraction of these letters into predominantly radiant lines of colour and colour alone, the text reduced to a task below that of looking objectively for a definite and ultimate meaning. What we dont get is well disguised and for the most part this is a credit but there is no less a vapid sense, something which is ostensibly missing from the experience.
Alan Butler, (near) Pizza Drumkit OMG, 2011, drumkit, adhesive vinyl. (far) Better Living Through Crypto-Fascism, 2011, perspex, adhesive vinyl, strobe lights
A Better Living Through Crypto - Fascism, or so reads the huge light behind the drum kit and it is a proposal which says a lot about something but also nothing. Of course there is a dichotomy regarding the issue of gender and the issue of force. Physically men are in general more aggressively powerful and control is the weapon of this power, nonetheless the female is represented here as both a subject of man’s laws and structures but also and perhaps more interestingly as teeny pop starlet Hannah Montana, who with a microphone in hand, dons the full attire of a female citizen of the most orthodox Islamic regions. It is not stated which authority Butler believes to infringe more on personal freedoms but taste is definitely on trial. On a more serious note we are being asked key questions as regards why girls of one culture are dripped into the mould of woman far before their time, while another contemporary culture simultaneously withholds womanhood as a means to subscribe to its perceived power as attributed via the enablement of a subjective will.
The product of this dominant ideology is perhaps either consumerism as fascism or Islam as terrorism but no doubt the loser is everybody, irrespective of gender, religion or aspiration. The many levels of this work help to create a sense of truth that overcomes much of the objective availability of the clichéd, standardised position of current political dialogue. In all, the rephrased logos of capitalist machines like Bank of England and weapons manufacturer Lockheed Martin took from the sheer enjoyment only to the extent that it was a reminder that the language of our culture is that of the logo-centric, image-based derivative. What the advantages to this approach are, against say a more fluid and active generation of the future is perhaps not yet known but thats the FUTURES for you. Maybe instead of cherishing images to the point that they serve as motivation for either god or love or country, we might come to a place of making where the image is lost forever to its next incarnation.
Next year new ways will no doubt unfold. This exhibition as outlined in the press release seeks to be current and so it could be easy to slip into topical reflections about debt and repossession, emigration and restriction. In all due respect, the issues raised were more generally human concerns of love and birth, discovery and even a nod to destiny, so it must be considered that the FUTURES’ artists are bright enough not to trade it all in for an easy life.