Friday, 28 October 2011

Thursday, 20 October 2011

Paul Thek / China Miéville / Axioms of Uncertainty

I built jig after jig after jig to manoeuvre some material past. Through the line of a blade's becoming. Everything is a surrogate, everything is a use-value of some sort. Chips and chocks are not an ends but a means to more means, a balancing system that stacks thoughts on moments on places on forms. Everything waltzes round and around like the pins in the lock's cylinder. No, more like planets, decaying orbits of time, the imperfection of repetition inherent in the most simple operation. It all just got older, then it just got weaker. 

dumb fucking mischief and broken bones from about 2007. It was all a jig, I just couldn't figure it then, couldn't use it right. All build up and then a mis-swing.

I tried to write a comment on Ben Woodard's wordpress, I don't know if I managed to do so, let alone articulate myself.
here it is
Hi Ben,
Surely there is an argument that the flaw in what Fabio proposes is held within this line "The limits of our epistemic grasp cannot be overcome via either poetic talk nor via a mysteriously efficacious intellectual intuition. They can only be probed and pushed by rational inquiry."

The assumption here is that a fluid and "poetic" mode is firstly a muddying of language. This is just as false as to state that there is such thing as a transparent mode of discourse in the first place. Therefore I see no problem in a writer accepting the instability of the language used and using this language to bring out something from its resonance of uncertainty. This seems not just suitable but preferable when attempting to deal with ideas which would resist that language of "rational enquiry" just as physical matter resists the translation into description.

I'm reminded of what David Lee Roth said in response to his being told that money couldn't by him happiness. He said that while it might not buy happiness, it could buy a yacht that would let him sail up right along side it.
There are things which we can't hit head on and expect to contain them, however we have come to the belief that we can because our methods of approach and evaluation do not allow for the missing parts, they do not have the means of seeing them so they don't acknowledge they have been missed.

The point that I'd like to make is that the express use of language, of the disjointed animal resonance of words and images forced into proximity with one another and denying in the reader the illusion of a direct link, forces a relationship of uncertainty in that reader.

This would be the sailing of the boat along side, a creative act that seeks not to encapsulate something, but to create both a platform for examining it and quite simply a new thing.

The breed of academic writing which comfortably strays into an unstable language of poiesis is one I readily welcome for its acceptance of fragility, its denial of a mono-authority and its activation of discourse away from commentary.

That said, plain Lovecraft pastiche is never acceptable because like all nerdy fandom it utterly misses the point by getting bogged down in some talismanic detail. 

I wrote something in the comments of one of my own earlier posts about Méiville and Thek, how I wanted to write about them as models for how to deal with the unstable through unstable means.

This is also what I like about Alex Hudson's paintings, how they depict a space which is failing through means which are equally failing. Experience is ragged and falling down on its knees and through the floor and the only way to approach this experience is through an equally cracked and splitting viscous cell.

Fabio Gironi's post on Hypertiling, was the subject of the Woodard post, and my own commentary. I think the point about Black Metal is astute, it is part of a conservative insular mindset, it is the appropriation of the pagan and the classical to justify the white self just like the worst Germanic history.  I'd planned to write about how there was a progression in the community of musicians who played black and other kinds of extreme metal in Luton toward right wing ideology (not actually ideology, more like style). How this had been explained to me as the need to be more black in terms of being darker, how as the music was to get more rigid in its adherence to genre (like the way Hardcore killed itself), to a certain (incredibly stylised and conservative) angle of extreme noise the self had to push further too. To be a Nazi was to prove that you were capable of playing hard enough (like you had to be X to be hardcore enough, that Puritanism, an exemplary self inflicted restraint to show you could take it). I decided to just leave it at that, the Nazi Black Metal musicians where not people I remember talking to and anything more than this would be so blown away in it's anecdotal character.

As for Paul Thek, writing about him almost seems to doomed to fall apart and descend into discussion of form mired with biography. I thought about the Artist Co-Op and the Greenbay Packers, and then that thought ended like that. snap. A hard end.
Thek's work was total and temporal. The timelyness and the thinglyness are overwhelming in everything pretty much that came after the meat vitrines. After he stopped making work about things. After he stopped making work about protection. When the meat became pyramid and the pyramid became a head

Thek's head.

I want to write about how Thek's physicality and ruinous corporeality was true and honest. How it was the opposite of stylized (and how stylized was the wrong word because style is not the negative that I'm referring to, it's more like a cardboard suitcase blacked in polish, the lies of bad design and worse art. One thing as another, Mimesis), and how I'd go looking for and find a word that meant that and all the other things I need it to do, a perfect ready-made jig as if such a thing ever existed!

Was going to write about bronze casting and the chain of form killing matter like a chain of evidence, a long line of agreement held fast by something, I don't know what but it's like a social contract that's for sure so back to Latour.

And the difference between a found object and a model.

 That stuff is all coming, or not, or past or never happened.

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Publication / Compound Second Edition / 2011

Compound (second edition), work present, work not present, work borrowed work, and work undone.
16 pp
Edition of 20 plus 5 artist's proofs
BW prepared laser print on 135gsm cartridge, plus coloured laser copy paper, plus four dye inkjet plates mounted with animal skin glue, perfect bound with red thread.

Compound is a rogue spoke from a lost work.  
Compound is a bound composite of documentary images, instructions for an application of sculpture and a one act play for three sailors discussing the ontological implications of a future parliament of noises, rock videos and marine geography.

Sunk In / Installation / KPH Volume, Copenhagen.

Photo credit: Bibi Katholm

Above is a photograph of the work Sunk In, (2011, paper, DVD, hemmed cotton, inkjet prints, laser prints, photocopies, iodine, collage, various local materials, dimensions variable) as installed by Bibi Katholm and Shane Bradford at KPH Volume, Copenhagen in 2011 as part of the group exhibition, In Case We Don't Die.

For video see earlier post.

Sunk In comprises of a set of ephemeral duplicate materials and a loose series of interoperable instructions for their installation in my absence.

Thursday, 13 October 2011

... and what will be left of them?: On The Corner

... and what will be left of them?: On The Corner: It’s hard to imagine now that Third World War ever existed. They are a singular proposition, Communist (or at least communist-leaning) ...