Art that really SHOCKED me

Before i found out about Amy Winehouse's tragic death on Saturday what I really wanted to write about was what shocked me face to face. There is a lot of art  out there that is supposedly meant to shock. Most of it, in reality, might be amazing art, might be art that I love, but it doesn't shock! Sex is exciting not shocking. Swearing just a part of the every day human language. Religion discussed.... Politics obvious! I must admit, even a water boarding  (torture technique) performance installation at the recent Goldsmiths showcase didn't shock me. It was too obvious, too tacky. What really shocks me is when I feel. When I feel disgusted, uneasy, shocked...at god knows what. When art is the unexpected.
  On saturday I walked in to the White Cube on Hoxton Square for the "Jake or Dinos Chapman" exhibition. A show put on in both White Cube's (I haven't been to Mason's Yard yet - but can't wait) in which the tow brothers have both made art separately from one another for one another but we don't know whose is who. Anyway I walked in and it was busy. There were some interesting paintings on the wall and some intricate sculptures. They didn't really mean anything to me. A mix of contemporary and african art by the looks of it. Fairly fun ... and then I noticed this group of school children at the end of the room. I thought to myself "Odd place for a school trip (they were very small looking - so i assumed must be young) especially on a saturday." And then in struck me. they were all ever so perculiar. Ever so still. Ever so intimidating. They weren't real!
  This made me feel incredibly uneasy. I don't know why. I couldn't stop staring and I hadn't even seen there fronts yet. I walked round and here it becomes obvious they aren't real but there is certainly some sort of life in them. They are a presence. A very REAL presence. I wont tell you about there faces. They aren't normal faces. But you have to go and see. It is the feeling that shocks. It is not the Nazi content or the distortion but just the fact they are there. Quite frankly I can't get over it. The press release has it just right "It is the attack on the body". The body of everyone.

It isn't there in the picture

"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to corollate all its contents"

    Dinos Chapman from the book "Nothing they Teach us"

The Beautiful and The Damned...

 There really is nothing more comforting than being told a bedtime story. For most of us the idea of pyjamas are long gone.. if we wear anything at all whilst we sleep it is a scraggy old t-shirt and pants, our teddybears are somewhere in our parents attics and we either drink our selves to sleep, shag our ourselves to sleep, bore ourselves to sleep .. or simply don't go to sleep at all. But every so often, and it normally comes along when I most need it, I find myself inside an enchanted little castle, invisible from the outside, on the hideous Mile End Road.

 This place is 40 Winks, the charming, mysterious and delectable home of the even more magical Mr Carter (A dandyesque, elfin creature, cheeky and chirpy.. tall and talented.. a story book special!) . A hidden gem, I have become quite acquainted with the place over the last couple of years. This house is my friend.

 Don't get me wrong. Bed time story night is all about escapism but escapism of the best kind. We aren't regressing to childhood, we aren't playing make-believe, we are in it. In a very unusual but a very adult world of entertainment, experience, adventure and journeys.

 I move on to The Beautiful and The Damned. It seems that for the last couple of evenings everyone I have met in this universe has been exactly that. Guests after being escorted to the un-dressing rooms then transform themselves into temptresses and proud princes, scantily clad or gloriously gowned in beautiful night-time attire. No body can be ugly at forty winks! It is part of the magic of the place.

 The more beautiful the guests become the more damned the get as they sip and slurp on lots and lots of very special, very unusual Hendrix gin (ok so maybe we still drink ourselves to sleep)! Gin in tea cups. Gin. Gin. My I love gin! Nibbling on smoked salmon and freshly cooked sausage roles the guests mingle joyfully sharing tales of their lives... why this is a story in itself. Flirtation happens, innuendo rolls but the most witty and wonderful sort. The flirtation of the mind.

 I can't tell you of all the excitement and magic of the place because it is held inside my heart. The mystery engulfs it and the outside world isn't quite capable of explaining the experience. We heard tales of the devil, the destruction, the death of the divine. Stories of the sea, sex and seduction. Music filled the air and silence struck. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

 I love this place. It is the home inside my head. Theatrical majesty becomes reality and I don't have to dream anymore.

 Leaving is always hard. Back to the “outside” but you have learnt something new. Felt something new. Whether you choose to remain beautiful, damned or both, 40 winks will always be there just behind the facade.

Blood Orange smashing it live at The Alibi

When your squashed in to a sweaty dark room with Devonte Hyndes you know you are in for a whale of a time. Or at least you do now because I am telling you!

Tuesday night saw me hopping on the tube to the delectable Dalston Junction and heading to The Alibi for a unmissable (free) Blood Orange gig. When I arrived, ready for the 9.30 set, the underground gathering seemed relatively empty and the only sign of a show was a single microphone and one amp placed in a minuscule dark room which can be only described a dungeon. Greeted by friends we joked about how we hoped it was going to happen... the stage seemed unset but we grabbed some drinks and placed ourselves (in-conspicuously) by the minimal equipment in the empty room. We waited.. we waited... the place was getting quite busy.. we waited. The dungeon filled up.. we got hot.. we waited. Then came the voice “Let the man through! Let the man through!” … The lights went up and there pushing through the crowd towards us was the man himself, guitar and laptop in hand, Light speed Champion/Blood Orange/ Dev Hyndes.. he had arrived. We had got ourselves a prime location and could not complain (despite the sweat already streaming down our bodies. He tuned his guitar (seeming rather shy) and then shouted for the lights. Then the magic began. I felt odd with my almost back stage (not that there was a stage view) and even more odd that I couldn't help but stare at his bottom but his music was electrifying. I started staying seated but this lasted about five seconds and about one song through the man picked up his microphone stand and his pushed his was to the centre of the room.

“Hard-core” some one screamed! The were right, this was a jam packed room of sardines, and we were in the middle. The set up almost resembled some sort of dance off but the experience was unbeatable. The feel intimate, the performance flawless, the vibe energetic. We danced ourselves to (almost) death for a good hour. Dishevelment at large the area was perspiring from the ceiling but god this was good. Cameras flashed the whole time resembling some sort of discontented strobe but this just made the experience more surreal more dreamlike and more wonderful. I felt privileged. We all seemed like freinds just having a bloody good time. Eventually after song after song Dev finally exclaimed that he was exhausted and that the next would be his last. I think we all agreed. What a show.

    As far as balls he has them, as far as friendliness he has it, as far as talent... seems top notch. Ten out of ten for this good feeling guy and the sweat just made it better!

Photos by Souy. O

More at http://privatemagazine.blogspot.com/2011/06/private-snap-blood-orange.html?spref=fb

A clip from the show

Awesome video!

LOVE IS WHAT YOU WANT

 "Is Anal Sex Legal?

Is Legal Sex Anal?"

A visit to the current Tracey Emin exhibition  "Love is What  You Want" at The Hayward Gallery is, yet again, another must. I am not quite sure what expectations I went with. . . I always think the curation of any show at The Hayward is well done (far better than any TATE, Royal Academy e.t.c) and well covered; I generally like Tracey Emin's work, or at least don't have any strong opinions against what she does but I must admit I have come away an avid fan! The show was enticing, interesting, personal, colourful and heart warming!
  We all have our pre-conceptions of this artist. We know she uses distressing aspects of her life to create her art but this is with merit. Her pieces are not trashy but careful and tender. Some points are most certainly shocking but no pushiness comes across in construction. When looking at her work I did not feel she was showing off or shoving her life in my face. Her art was doing exactly what art should. Making me question my own life? Things personal to me? Or universal truths`?
  We all are affected by sex in some way or another. Sex and Love. Sex and Love. Sex and Love. You can't escape it. Of course I am writing from my own perspective. As a woman it is perhaps different from a man as motherhood or the possibility of motherhood comes in to the whole arena as well. Not that men are not involved in the creation create but perhaps they are more distant from the fear or the longing or whatever it is about the possibility of having a baby inside you. Sex . Love . And babies. The battle with our body. The battle with our mind. The battle as an artist. Creating art? What does it mean? Is there something wrong with my mind? These are all questions. Questions. Power. Questions.
 Yes it made me think.
 I admire her. I really do. She has worked hard. She is nearly 50. I like her smile. I like her smile. She looks warm and friendly. I like her writing. It is simple and clever and warming. Her art is real. But it is art. She knows this. Art makes me struggle ? Is there any point? Yes if it helps. Yes. Therapy for me. Or making the world think. Now this is about me...
See?
Middle class men (THE CRITICS) don't understand (read some of the reviews (by men)) They are sad and  jealous. CUNTS whatever CUNTS.

Love Is What You Want

Tracey Emin Running Naked With a Flag

I can't write a review. It is all about feelings. It made me feel a lot. Go see...

School for scandal at the BARBICAN

Last night I yet again chose to make use of my age and got two free tickets to see School of Scandal at the Barbican. I love having my freeB tickets and this time I dragged James along to (in my opinion) the best performance at the Barbican I have seen yet. It was opening night and the new production of Richard Sheridan's classic was flawless. Directed by Deborah Warner the fresh production was wild, vibrant, big and relevant to modern day culture. Whereas you would expect to struggle with a four hour play written for an audience alive in 1777 Deborah converted the visuals and the meaning (although not the script) into "a scorching comedy with contemporary resonance as our own celebrity-obsessed culture collides with the gossip-ridden, high fashion world of eighteenth-century London."
  The acting was outstanding ( I mean really really brilliant) with big names taking leads such as Katherine Parkinson who we all know from her BAFTA award winning role in "The IT crown",  Harry Melling who played Dudley Dursely in "Harry Potter", Leo Bill who starred in Tim Burton's "Alice in Wonderland" and many many more. Every member of the 20 piece cast has an amazing list of credits (no surprise) and all trained at a very high level proving what drama school really can produce. The characterisations were hilarious and I would like to specially mention Gary Sefton and Adam Gillan whose pure physicality in characters was absolutely remarkable, fantastic and utterly hilarious. The energy coming from the cast and translating to the performance was really something else.
  The set, lighting, sound and costume are also really wonderful. Visually the production is completely and utterly gripping. The only hitch was a drunken member of audience dropping something down into the mechanisms under the stage during the interval resulting in a fairly long wait. Stupid old bag!
  After seeing this play my new favourite word is definitely "EGAD" ... I can't wait to use it! My love for acting and drama still remains. My strongest emotion.. however much I enjoyed watching it is still jealousy to the cast. And boy do I still want to be an actress. STOP. I am an actress.

Visit this sight for more http://www.barbican.org.uk/scandal/
AND PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GET A TICKET!

When good feedback really counts...

This is one of those rare posts when I right about my course logistics (just so I will remember in the future) because it acts as some sort of review and because feedback is good. So today I got my results and marking back from my last unit... which I guess is the important one as it is the one that looks at my practice as an artist. My studio work, my research, my reflection... me as an artist.
I am not going to lie ... I was pleased with my work but sure I was going to FAIL. I love being at CSM, I really do but the way in which I work (as an artist) is the way in which I work. My studio is post modern (in my head and all around me) ... I don't work at college. I am unorganised so even though I visit millions of exhibition to be honest... recording this is not that important to me. I don't clearly present my work.. or at least I don't care about how it is marked in an academic way. I want to create. I don't really care about a GRADE or doing the best. However... when you do do well it does make you feel good :)
I passed with an excellent mark and here is some of my feedback : 

• Very good research into a range of relevant contextual practice and theory.
• Good experimentation with text, painting, video, that all explore a coherent set of concerns
• Excellent presentation
• Motivated and commited approach to work and excellent development during the year.
• The personal and subjective nature of your work recentley processed through video and performance has proved really succesful particularly in the way it has provided you with detachment from your material.
• Humour seems an important part in your work - this is great.
• Continue exploring the role of performance in your practise and improve the technical grasp of the medium.

Anyway basically I want to point out the that good feedback actually makes me feel good. It makes me pleased that I am doing what I am doing as I do worry that my way of working is not right. 

The "review" will always be important and critic is vital to an artist. Positive and negative must be used to better ones work. Now I just want to be better :) 

I don't want to be perfect and I still don't care about essays but I care about my work.

I think I am just lucky to be part of CSM.