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Beginning with such key artists as Marcel Duchamp and Jackson Pollock, this book examines a selection of the most significant players who have used their bodies to create their art - among them, in the 1960s Carolee Scheemann, Rudolf Schwarzkogler, Yoko Ono; in the 1970s, Chris Burden, Ana Mendieta, Vito Acconci, Marina Abramovic; up to the turn of the millennium, Matthew Barney, Marc Quinn, Tracey Emin and Mona Hatoum.

Survey Amelia Jones,among the world experts in the field, discusses performance and body art against the background of social history. She examines the breakdown of barriers between art and life, visual and sensual experience - how artists have expanded and renewed the age-old tradition of self-portraiture, moving art out of the gallery into unexpected spaces and media.

Works Each image is accompanied by an extended caption. The book is organized thematically:

'Painting Bodies', concerns work that shows the trace, stain or imprint of the artist's body in response to the paint-on-canvas tradition.
'Gesturing Bodies', examines artists who transform the body - its acts, its gesture - into art; gesture, behaviour and situations are used in place of art objects.
'Ritualistic and Transgressive Bodies', looks at work which uses the body to enact challenges to the social expecations of the body, often in rituals that perform a cathartic function. Mutilation and sacrifice are used to rupture personal and social homogeneity.
'Body Boundaries', examines boundaries between the individual body and the social environment and between the inside and outside of the body itself.
'Performing Identity', looks at issues of representation and identity.
'Absent Bodies', explores absence and the mortality of the body through photography, casting, imprints or remnants of the body.
In 'Extended and Prosthetic Bodies', the body is extended through prosthetics or technology, to explore cyberspace and alternative states of consciousness.

Documents Parallel to the illustrated works of art, this section combines texts by critics who shaped the movement, from Lucy R. Lippard to Thomas McEvilley. Alongside these are writings by philosophers and thinkers such as George Bataille and Gilles Deleuze who have contributed on a theoretical level to the discussion around the body - a prevalent theme in twentieth-century cultural theory.

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The Artist's Body by Amelia Jones, Tracey Warr | Waterstones

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Beginning with such key artists as Marcel Duchamp and Jackson Pollock, this book examines a selection of the most significant players who have used their bodies to create their art - among them, in the 1960s Carolee Scheemann, Rudolf Schwarzkogler, Yoko Ono; in the 1970s, Chris Burden, Ana Mendieta, Vito Acconci, Marina Abramovic; up to the turn of the millennium, Matthew Barney, Marc Quinn, Tracey Emin and Mona Hatoum.

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After a Turbulent Couple of Years, Oscar Murillo Hits Reset in London by Going Back to His Roots

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The last three years have been a whirlwind for the Colombian artist Oscar Murillo. He graduated from London's Royal College of Art in 2012, signed to David Zwirner the following year, and subsequently became the subject of heated art world debate when his prices rocketed (in some cases by as much as 3,000 percent).

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Editors

Catherine de Zegher

Catherine de Zegher was Director of The Drawing Center in New York from 1999 to 2006. She is the editor of Inside the Visible: An Elliptical Traverse of Twentieth Century Art in, of, and from the Feminine (MIT Press, 1996).

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Published on the occasion of a major exhibition opening at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston, Inside the Visible presents a gendered reading of more than thirty women artists of vastly different background and experience. The work of important yet previously "invisible" figures is highlighted alongside the work of established artists to create a retheorized interpretation of the art of this century.

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EXHIBITIONS

Pipilotti Rist and Berlinde De Bruyckere at Hauser & Wirth, London and Somerset
Pipilotti Rist "Worry Will Vanish" at Hauser & Wirth, London
For her London exhibition, "Worry Will Vanish", Rist has transformed the gallery into a fully immersive, sensory environment. Projected against two walls, Worry Will Vanish Horizon (2014) is a journey inside the human body, based on a three-dimensional animation. Rist delights in patterns created by manipulating creases of skin, caressing, pushing and pulling to depict the varied textures of human flesh. These corporeal images periodically overlap with close-up fragments from nature as Rist blurs the boundaries between the self and organic structures. She explores the relationship between internal and external, how individuals are linked to the tissues and blood vessels of other organisms, and in so doing, she suggests relationships with the universe at large.

Rist's video footage appears as a kaleidoscopic reimagining of reality, as glistening spider webs and dew-laced foliage merge with eyeballs and elbows in a barrage of seductive imagery. Rist has collaborated with artist and musician Anders Guggisberg on the sound that accompanies the video so that Worry Will Vanish Horizon emerges as a joyous celebration of audio, texture and colour.

Worry Will Vanish is a participatory experience; gallery visitors are prompted to remove their shoes before entering the main installation, and hence to release some of the social inhibitions that exist in the world outside. Upon initially entering the gallery space, the viewer is confronted with a denim curtain hanging from the ceiling. The curtain extends the length of the south wall, and entices the viewer to explore the area beyond this physical and psychological barrier. By laying plush carpet and duvets on the floor of her installation, Rist invites the viewer to lie down and experience the work from a new perspective, in which the universe appears enlarged. The viewer moving through the image and the projection of their own shadow onto the gallery wall serves to enhance the interaction between the body and its environment.

Rist draws on principles of Autogenic Training to facilitate a process of relaxation, a technique developed in 1932 by the German psychiatrist Johannes Heinrich Schultz. Autogenic Training involves a repeated set of visualisations, practised in recommended postures (including lying down), which are intended to alleviate stress. Even the adjuratory tone of the exhibition's title has a calming effect on the viewer, lulling them into a state where they will be receptive to new ideas.

A second, small-scale video installation, Stone Skyscraper (2014) is positioned outside the denim curtain. It is a human-scale structure milled from sandstone with a video projected on the façade.

unti 10 Janaury 2015

Pipilotti Rist "Worry Will Vanish" installation views at Hauser & Wirth, London, 2014

Courtesy: the artist, Hauser & Wirth and Luhring Augustine, New York. Photo: Alex Delfanne.

© Pipilotti Rist
Pipilotti Rist "Stay Stamina Stay" at Hauser & Wirth Somerset, Bruton
Hauser & Wirth is pleased to announce two exhibitions of new video works by Pipilotti Rist, unveiled in parallel presentations across its London and Somerset galleries. A pioneer of video art, since the mid-eighties, Rist's film installations take many guises. She has likened them in the past to handbags, "because there is room in them for everything: painting, technology, language, music, flowing pictures, poetry, commotion, premonitions of death, sex and friendliness." From this versatile, capricious medium, Rist draws inner and outer worlds of kaleidoscopic colourful wonderment.

Hauser & Wirth Somerset will present two new rooms by Pipilotti Rist and an installation of "hiplights" in the farmyard. From summer 2012 through to summer 2013, Rist spent a sabbatical in Bruton, taking part in the first Hauser & Wirth Somerset artist residency. The experience had a profound impact upon her practice, producing new work in response to the surrounding landscape and the people she met.

Rist's title "Stay Stamina Stay"plays on its double-meaning; referencing the stamen, (the pollen-producing reproductive organ of a flower) and also a "resistance to hardship." Rist is concerned with our connection and interaction with the world around us; how we relate to our landscape, what preconceptions we carry from our respective cultures, and what those cultures have in common. Through her sensuously observed close-ups of the natural environment and the human body, Rist is interested in the 'often unbelievable strength that humans are generating every day.

In the Rhoades Gallery, Mercy Garden (2014) is projected onto two of the walls; the luscious imagery in the installation comes mostly from footage the artist shot whilst living in Somerset. Slow motion close-ups play out in mirrored effect; fingers stroke stinging nettles, hands caress soft vivid petals, lips purse underwater and washing floats in the breeze, against a bright blue sky. The images are filtered and layered, set to a soundtrack of banjo folk music by Heinz Rohrer, inviting visual and tactile wonder and engaging all of the senses.

This sumptuous all-encompassing environment is designed for relaxation and meditation; the floor is partially carpeted in lush green with Somerset sheepskin rugs scattered across. Rist encourages her viewers to recline, inviting them to contemplate, and at the same time, to share a collective experience with their fellow spectators.

Rist is commonly known for creating works that are at once feminist and feminine, often exploring the female body; but in Mercy Garden, all of the characters are men (or boys) and the film celebrates a masculine strength, combined with fragility and tenderness. The main character, a young local farmer, is shown interacting with his natural environment. Visceral images of his hands running through soil and tending plants pose questions about life and death, and humans' relationship to the natural world. Rist describes the work as "a poem about agriculture, the farmer, his body, his fingers and his machines as an extension of the body."

On entering the Bourgeois Gallery, the viewer is immersed in another of Rist's parallel worlds. The installation Sleeping Pollen (2014) is projected through seven mirrored spheres, suspended from the ceiling, which create moving projections all around the space. Visitors are invited to move in and around the projections, and also to become part of them, reflecting the artist's continuing desire to create a close relationship between work and viewer. The doors and windows have been covered in translucent acetate in cherry red and moss green, creating a hazy glow that changes in intensity throughout the day. Rist describes Sleeping Pollen as "offering the winter plants an electronic bed in a dark cosy room. Their dreams spin slowly in the air."

Outside, the installation Hiplights (2011), which was first conceived for Rist's solo exhibition "Eyeball Massage" at the Hayward Gallery, London in 2011, is a remarkable, outdoor light work, created from hundreds of pairs of underpants with LED lamps. The underwear is strung between each of the buildings around the farmyard, like an enormous celebratory washing line.
at Hauser & Wirth Somerset, Bruton
until 22 February 2015

Hiplights (or Enlighted Hips), 2011

Pipilotti Rist "Stay Stamina Stay" at Hauser & Wirth Somerset, Bruton, 2014

Courtesy: the artist, Hauser & Wirth and Luhring Augustine, New York. Photo: Ken Adlard.

© Pipilotti Rist

until 10 Janauary 2015

© Berlinde De Bruyckere

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Pipilotti Rist and Berlinde De Bruyckere at Hauser & Wirth, London and Somerset

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Pipilotti Rist "Worry Will Vanish" at Hauser & Wirth, London For her London exhibition, "Worry Will Vanish", Rist has transformed the gallery into a fully immersive, sensory environment. Projected against two walls, Worry Will Vanish Horizon (2014) is a journey inside the human body, based on a three-dimensional animation.

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trange Days: Memories of the Future is overwhelming: complex, at times annoying and confusing, repetitive, uplifting and baffling. Like life, really. Films and videos by 21 artists are spread over three floors of the Store X on London's Strand. Following the Hayward Gallery's The Infinite Mix here in 2016, this exhibition features artists who have all shown at New York's New Museum over the last decade. There is dancing. There is singing. There are stories - too many to recount here - and there is sex. You'll go fishing in the Amazon, have a wild old time in Ryan Trecartin's queer frat-house (along with lots of cosmetics, live baby chickens and a horse), swim beneath the decaying lily pads on a blue autumnal day with Pipilotti Rist and enter a world of horticultural sex and death with Laure Prouvost.

"You are dying slowly," announces a subtitle in Prouvost's recent video Into All That is Here. She is not wrong. "You need to go deeper ... you have to look for things ... Have a cigarette." If only, after all those rampant stamens and wilting petals, all that moisture, all that heat, the slurping butterflies and drowning wasps. I had to go and have a lie down in a dimly lit room filled with beds and couches, with Rist's underwater frolics projected on to the ceiling above, and someone singing something soft yet gruelling among the bubbles, the naked breasts, the wrinkled underwater fingers, blood dissolving in green water. Rist and Prouvost make a good artistic coupling, lulling you into a show that is in many ways a picaresque descent through a building and through the world.

Naked except for a thick layer of body paint, Lili Reynaud-Dewar also takes a cigarette break and checks her phone, after some heavy duty prancing, stretching and doing a few press-ups among the deeply perverse sculptures of Austrian artist Bruno Gironcoli, with their odd amalgam of humans and baroque machines, fanciful body parts and peculiar appendages. Reynaud-Dewar gets among them, like a hunter. Or a critic, perhaps, dancing the sculpture, mimicking its forms and its weirdness, almost as a choreographed critique. Nearby, an animation by Oliver Laric is a constant metamorphosis, a cycle of human and animal transformation, full of fanciful and frightening creatures and superheroes, comic book cuteness and slithery CGI, manga, the Disneyesque and the Picassoid rolling into one another. Nearby, Wu Tsang's The Looks introduces us to the performer Blis - played by someone called boychild. Blis sways and sings, an ethereal presence whose every inch of exposed skin is covered in silvery glittering sequins, and with a winking LED light in their mouth. Blis and boychild are a kind of spectral composite being. It is hard to tear oneself away.

There is so much going on in Strange Days that the exhibition demands several visits. Seeing everything would be impossible, not to say unendurable, in a single encounter. Free entry makes multiple viewings possible. I go from Blis's queer performance to a long vérité film in which Amazonian fishermen, with their nets and their lines and their guile catch and then caress their quarry, holding the jerking fish against their chests, soothing and caressing and even kissing them in Jonathas de Andrade 's O Peixe (The Fish). De Andrade asked the fishermen to perform this gesture, unfamiliar in their everyday activity on the river. Not only does O Peixe record moments in which the relationship between hunter and the hunted is transformed by this simple, transient gesture but it also immerses us in the fishermen's relationship to the river, their closeness to the fragile natural resource on which they subsist.

Nearby, John Akomfrah's three-screen Vertigo Sea thunders away, and Anri Sala's three-minute film of a cymbal caught in a strobe light quivers madly. It isn't always the biggest, most complex works that stay in your head. Two men - an office worker and a beefy guy who looks like a cab driver - dance in a room in Cairo to traditional Shaabi music, their moves alternating between tenderness and aggression in Hassan Khan 's Jewel. Jungle of Desire, a ribald and obscene animation by Wong Ping, tells the story of a film animator who imagines taking revenge against his sex-worker wife's latest client, a cop who refuses to pay for her services. With its escalating sexual humiliations, Wong's hilarious film is a veiled comment on the iniquities of life in Hong Kong. Or you could just take it as light relief.

The deeper you go through the exhibition, with its subterranean floors and labyrinthine corridors and galleries, the more the stories, the places and scenes multiply.

Strange Days is bookended by two very different works that are worth the trip alone. K ahlil Joseph's Fly Paper is a 20-minute homage to Harlem, to his family, to jazz, to black culture. Filled with memorable images: a man in a white suit lying in an empty bath, thinking; a musician manhandling a bass drum up tenement stairs. Doubles dancing together in bleak rooms. There are greetings on the corner, trips through hospital corridors, grief and happiness. Part autobiography and homage to his family, part celebration of black music (Joseph directed the first version of Beyoncé's Lemonade, and has previously worked with Flying Lotus), Fly Paper is both abrasive and lyrical, and visually astonishing. I lose myself as in a big, baggy novel. Lauryn Hill appears, as do writer Sharifa Rhodes-Pitts and comedian Alzo Slade. You want to watch it again and again. This exceptional work ends with a quote from Chris Marker's film Sans Soleil. "If they don't see happiness in the picture, at least they'll see the black."

Much later, at the end of the show, we meet the National, performing their song Sorrow 95 times, over and over, in a live performance at MoMA PS1 in 2013. The audience stayed with it, showing as much fortitude as the band, egging them on. The performance, and the film, lasts six hours. Ragnar Kjartansson 's A Lot of Sorrow is a great ending. I'll have to go back. How long have you got?

* Strange Days: Memories of the Future is at the Store X, London until 9 December.

* This article was amended on 9 October 2018 to correct a misnaming of John Akomfrah's work, Vertigo Sea.

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Strange Days review - fishy kisses, naked prancing and ribald revenge

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trange Days: Memories of the Future is overwhelming: complex, at times annoying and confusing, repetitive, uplifting and baffling. Like life, really. Films and videos by 21 artists are spread over three floors of the Store X on London's Strand.

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Martha Rosler - Semiotics of the Kitchen  1975

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Marina Abramović - Art must be beautiful...

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"I would like to see Abe Lincoln about this equality bullshit." That brassy line was uttered in 1970 by comedian Godfrey Cambridge, who played an average-white-guy-turned-black-dude in Melvin Van Peebles' dramedy Watermelon Man-a picture inspired, in part, by Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis.

Forty-six years later, the spirit of that complaint lives on. Michelle Obama invoked it in her electrifying Democratic Convention speech by acknowledging that- surprise -the White House was built with slave labor. Also chiming in over the years: black artists of every stripe and discipline.

Prominent among visually oriented folks within a much larger group of remonstrating artistes -think everyone from Beyoncé to Ta-Nehisi Coates-is collagist, sculptor and installation maven Rashid Johnson. Part of the original "post-black" crew rounded up by curator Thelma Golden for the Studio Museum's landmark 2001 "Freestyle" exhibition, Johnson at once embraced and rejected the Civil Rights-era expectations attached to becoming that rare unicorn-the successful African American artist.

From the Studio Museum to his current exhibition at Hauser & Wirth's cavernous 18 th Street space, Johnson has consistently used his work to confront the nation's legacy of racism head on. Together with other members of his historical cohort, he has also helped rewrite the script for how to become a 21 st century African American artist. Among that script's evolving guidelines are a marked preference for complexity over uplift, a penchant for contradiction over authenticity, and, most recently, a newfound willingness to tackle urgent political causes and prominent social movements. On the evidence, post-black art today is far more attuned to the Black Lives Matter movement than to Cornel West's 1994 bestseller Race Matters.

Though Johnson has long sought to redefine and reinterpret changing notions of blackness-i.e., the most cussed version of Americanness-his messily poignant works retain the tendency to use individual and family history as jumping off points to examine the black experience. Recently, though, the artist's efforts have taken a more communal turn. Where previous shows have highlighted questions of selfhood and individual anxiety as artistic themes (cue last year's aptly titled "Anxious Men" at the Drawing Center), his current exhibition-which consists of nine "paintings," three wall-mounted sculptures, a freestanding volumetric arrangement and a large installation-doesn't merely reference America's racial dilemma, it takes as its explicit subject timely yet universal ideas of fear and escape.

Made with the artist's signature "Afrocentric" materials, among them black soap, shea butter, ceramic tile, mirror, and burnt wood, Johnson's artworks manage an unlikely feat inside Hauser & Wirth's XXXL-sized gallery. Thanks to the artist's own exhibition design-he admitted to me to having scrapped 20 maquettes to get to the current layout-the display survives a space that has vanquished a number of other art world veterans like Dieter Roth, Paul McCarthy, and Matthew Day Jackson.

The solution to an ex-roller rink with massive ceilings and no columns, Johnson figured, were some well-placed 25-foot walls. These, in turn, divide the open architecture into a single large installation area and three discrete painting galleries. The result is akin to bug jiu-jitsu on "Animal Planet": The artist has taken control of a stadium-like space that, like the wolf spider, has been known to eat its own.

The first room in Johnson's well-appointed exhibition-it's titled "Fly Away" in honor of the world's most recorded gospel song-contains six large rectangular panels made from white ceramic tiles that the artist has covered with rows of expressionistic black soap and wax figures. Rendered as a series of roughly drawn blockheads, Johnson's bug-eyed visages invoke a multipage Google search's worth of visual antecedents. These include, among others, Sponge Bob Square Pants, Alberto Giacometti's Falling Man, Jean Dubuffet's homunculi, and, of course, "pickaninny" caricatures. Titled Untitled Anxious Audience, these works present, at once, a literal depiction of crowds, and also-to paraphrase the artist-a figurative but personal and artistic transition from I to We.

A few rooms away, Johnson echoes, in inverted fashion, the figures depicted among his anxious audiences. Single portraits of upended stick men on wood and mirror backgrounds, these collaged forms mimic video game characters, flying (or plummeting) superheroes, and chalk outlines that are familiar from fictional cable and TV crime scenes. Whether encased in singed redwood or soap-stained mirror, the artist's tumbling ciphers appear literally framed by their circumstances. Like Giacometti, Johnson also calls his figures "Falling Men."

The largest space in "Fly Away" is given over to a large cube of scaffolding that contains "signifying objects": plants, books, video screens, mounds of shea butter, ceramic pots, and a piano, which is to be played periodically by the musician and music producer Antoine Baldwin during the run of the show. Despite the scale of this installation, it's more modest work in another purpose-built gallery that impresses as Johnson's biggest advance on his blustery, sometimes uneven oeuvre. These are, quite simply, three color-saturated "paintings" made from white and colored tile, black soap, spray paint and large diamond-shaped snatches of tropical-themed wallpaper that would not be out of place in your local Dominican greasy spoon.

The artist calls these works his "Escape Collages." Rude, fresh, fantastical, complex and as culturally contradictory as anything in the post-black art pantheon, they suggest both the idea of modern-day dystopia and its radical possibilities of escape. It's Bronx graffiti on a Jamaican subway train, hurtling toward a lushly gritty someplace that is, also, anyplace but here.

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Rashid Johnson's Pleasure Town at Hauser & Wirth | artnet News

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"I would like to see Abe Lincoln about this equality bullshit." That brassy line was uttered in 1970 by comedian Godfrey Cambridge, who played an average-white-guy-turned-black-dude in Melvin Van Peebles' dramedy Watermelon Man-a picture inspired, in part, by Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis. Forty-six years later, the spirit of that complaint lives on.

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Anthea Hamilton transforms the heart of Tate Britain with sculpture and performance

A solo performer in a squash-like costume inhabits the Duveen Galleries every day for more than six months for the Tate Britain Commission 2018. Each element of The Squash has evolved from Hamilton's interest in a photograph she found in a book several years ago when looking at improvisational theatre and participatory art practices in the 1960s and 1970s. It showed a person dressed as what looks like a vegetable lying among vines. The original photograph dated from 1960 and depicted a scene from a dance by American choreographer Erick Hawkins. Hawkins was interested in Native American philosophies and he took the form of this costume from the Squash Kachina of the Hopi culture.

As Hamilton had lost the original source of this image, she was not able to discover its origins and was left to imagine its context from the image alone. The artist has brought together tiles, structures, sculptures and costume, inviting a performer to explore their own interpretation of the image and how it might feel to imagine life as other, as vegetable.

The performer selects their outfit for the day from a collection of seven elaborate costumes. Each one is inspired by the original image and by different kinds of squash or pumpkin. The length of the galleries' terrazzo floor has been tiled in domestic-scale white tiles to create a new environment within Tate Britain's neoclassical architecture.

Anthea Hamilton works across sculpture, installation and performance. She is interested in the complexity of ways we read and respond to images. Hamilton was born in 1978 in London where she lives and works.

The performer is in the gallery from 10am to 6pm every day but in that time they choose when they take their breaks, meaning they might not always be present in the space.

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Anthea Hamilton: The Squash - Exhibition at Tate Britain | Tate

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Anthea Hamilton transforms the heart of Tate Britain with sculpture and performance A solo performer in a squash-like costume inhabits the Duveen Galleries every day for more than six months for the Tate Britain Commission 2018.

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In most media - from film and theatre to music, TV and fashion - creative collaboration is the norm. In the art world, however, prestige tends to cling to the individual. A new tome by by Ellen Mara De Wachter, Co-Art: Artists on Creative Collaboration, seeks to unpick this attitude and, drawing from an inexhaustive pool of examples, highlights the arbitrary differences between single and multiple entity artists. Themes of anonymity, security and identity guide the course of the book, while love - that of friendship, romance or familial relationships - emerges as a driving force for creative works. From symbiotic duos to amorphous collectives, it seems that great work can come from sharing.

1. Guerrilla Girls (above)

Brought together by outrage at the lack of diversity in MoMA's International Survey of Painting and Sculpture in 1984, this group of anonymous radical feminists conjoined in a bid to protest. Creating propaganda-esque posters that now hang in galleries worldwide - Do Women Have to be Naked to Get into The Met. Museum? (1989) is their most famous - this gang of gorilla-masked artists eschew individual applause in favour of the liberation granted by divorcing your 'self' from your work. As one of the group professes: "you wouldn't believe what comes out of your mouth when you're wearing a gorilla mask". Besides the liberation offered by this collaborative approach, their work offers a comment on the art market itself too: "The concept of the individual genius artist is outdated, anyway, kept alive by an art market that needs super expensive art objects made by 'geniuses'."

2. Elmgreen & Dragset

Having met in a nightclub in Copenhagen and started a romantic relationship, Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dragset's union gradually developed into a collaborative artistic practice. The pair began to create mise en scene installations and the homogeneity of their same sex relationship inspired themes of gay identity and mirroring in their work. Marriage (2004), a pair of matching sinks linked by wildly contorting pipes, exemplified this, as did Boy Scout (2008), an installation of bunk beds with mattresses that face each other. "There are certainly a lot of male artists who have been heavily supported by their female spouses, but it is never even mentioned that they are part of the whole production and planning. Artists who run studios also use their assistants for more than practical stuff, packing, crating and putting screws into works [...] I would say that working together as an 'artist duo' is just a formalised collaboration - a working process without lying about your inspirational sources, somehow."

In 2009, the pair curated both of their national pavilions - Elmgreen is Danish and Dragset Nordic - at the 53rd Venice Biennale. "Our names were shortened in biennials and big group shows because we occupied too much space with our full names," explains Elmgreen. "And galleries suddenly left out our first names, so we simply became this corporate sounding brand name, 'Elmgreen and Dragset'. And we thought, 'Okay. Whatever.'" "The Italians called us Bang & Olufsen for years, the only other Scandinavian collaborators they knew!" Dragset adds.

3. Jane Wilson and Louise Wilson

Studying almost 200 miles apart, sisters Louise and Jane Wilson used their work to challenge the art world institutions from the outset of their careers. Submitting duplications of their joint project (subjecting themselves to hypnosis) for their respective BA shows, the siblings confounded their school syllabuses. "It meant that our tutors had to collaborate," Jane explains. "They had to talk to each other on the phone because they were assessing what was effectively the same work, and if they'd passed one and failed the other..." As such their submissions challenged the subjectivity of art assessment.

A further confrontation to the academic rulebook, the pair went on to make a joint application for their MA. A credit to its progressive tutorship, Goldsmiths College was one of the only universities to be flexible enough to let this happen. While undertaking the MA course they shared a studio and each contributed on a part-time basis (the sisters took LSD for their graduation show video work) and joined the throngs of YBAs to emerge from the famed university. In 1999, the sisters were nominated for the Turner Prize in an acknowledgement of the Wilsons' impact on these often staid institutions.

4. Assemble

Assemble began as a small group of architecture students at Cambridge University. Having expanded to an amorphous group of approximately 20 people - "that's how many are on the lunch rota" - the art-craft-design-building-collective maintains a group anonymity, refusing to publish a list of names or members. They made their name with the creation of The Cineroleum (2010): the reclamation of a disused petrol station on Clerkenwell Road that became an outdoor cinema. The collective went on to win the Turner Prize in 2015 for its project Granby Four Streets, which saw it redevelop an area in Liverpool that had been subject to "managed decline" since the 1990s - a deliberate disinvestment from public services. These projects embody their communal ethos, both outwards and in. Their methods engaging a communal spirit of creativity in order to realise community-engaging projects.

"We were really just having fun and experimenting for ourselves," Assemble explains. "So to be able to say that you authored something individually would have gone against the way in which the work had come about. I suppose it has got something to do with the hierarchy of the broader architectural world, because we were all indoctrinated to believe that we couldn't have a voice because we were, at that time, too inexperienced. So there was a clear feeling that we were still students and because of that, we had a freedom to do what we wanted. When we launched the project and people came to see it, it became clear what we were doing had implications within a wider discourse, and that discourse itself had value, and we realised inadvertently that we did have a voice."

5. Broomberg and Chanarin

Documentary photographers and artists Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin were awarded the Deutsche Börse Photography Prize for their book War Primer 2, described as a "book that physically inhabits the pages of Bertolt Brecht's remarkable 1955 publication War Primer". They were awarded the International Center of Photography Infinity Award for their publication, Holy Bible.

The artist duo's work explores photography as a medium usually associated with a single author since, as Co-Art' s author Ellen Mara de Wachter explains, the mechanics of the modern camera is intended for one person's eye. To address this notion, they used a medium format camera with a ground glass viewing plate, which enabled them to crowd under a black cloth together to view the subject. "The whole history of photography is premised on the idea of somebody looking with one eye through a lens and with one finger clicking a button," says Chanarin. "That's the mythology. So immediately to be two destroys the foundations of the history of photography."

Co-Art: Artists on Creative Collaboration is out now, published by Phaidon.

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Five Artist Collectives on the Art of Collaboration

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In most media - from film and theatre to music, TV and fashion - creative collaboration is the norm. In the art world, however, prestige tends to cling to the individual. A new tome by by Ellen Mara De Wachter, Co-Art: Artists on Creative Collaboration, seeks to unpick this attitude and, drawing from an inexhaustive pool of examples, highlights the arbitrary differences between single and multiple entity artists.

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ast night, Suzanne Treister took me on a 400bn light-year journey into space. The purpose was to visit her Museum of Black Hole Spacetime, and so, along with a couple of dozen fellow travellers, we jetted off - via a seance led by Treister. Describing the shared journey as we rose up from our chairs, through space, to reach her fantastical museum, Treister hoped that we would "reach an altered state of consciousness, ready to experience visions" that we might "otherwise be unable to experience in our everyday lives".

We drew and described whatever we felt we encountered during 20 minutes in the museum (in my case a monster tree and ersatz Hilma af Klint paintings), before Treister talked us slowly back down to earth.

This was no Halloween parlour game: Treister's seance took place at the heart of the British art world. Hosted by London's Serpentine Gallery, material produced during previous sessions feature in the touring exhibition Not Without My Ghosts, due to open next month at the Millennium Gallery in Sheffield.

There is a surge of interest in spirituality and mysticism at the moment, currently manifesting in both art practice and gallery programming, which extends to exhibitions such as Tantra at the British Museum, and The Botanical Mind at Camden Art Centre. In truth, things have been a bit witchy, a bit shamanic, in the art world for a few years. But this wave feels different: heavier, darker, more engaged. Rather than the hipster witchery of a few years ago, this new spirituality is rooted in explorations of feminism, anti-colonialism and alternative power structures.

Artwork made by Suzanne Treister during her Museum of Black Hole Spacetime seance. Photograph: Courtesy the artist, Annely Juda Fine Art London and PPOW New York

It is also, perhaps, a response to the fear and anxiety of the current moment. "I think this surge in esoteric beliefs tends to show up in moments of crisis, when things are feeling uneasy and unsettled on a good day, and bereft of hope on the worst of them," says S Elizabeth, author of The Art of the Occult. Growing up surrounded by richly decorated tarot cards and zodiac posters designed by Alphonse Mucha, Elizabeth sees the occult and art as inseparable.

As well as offering the consolations of ritual, Elizabeth describes the occult as a source of anti-authoritarian power. Much of the art in her book is by women, many - such as the Swedish theosophist Hilma af Klint or the surrealist mystic Remedios Varo - marginal figures in their time. "Spiritualism was very much intertwined with social justice movements of the day," says Elizabeth. "Transgressive women resisting patriarchal oppression have always been called witches."

A number of the female mystics whose work appears in The Art of the Occult also feature alongside Treister's seance pictures in Not Without My Ghosts, which explores the idea of the artist as spirit medium. Among them are mystic artists of the 19th century such as Georgiana Houghton, who produced drawings with the assistance of spirit guides. As spirit mediums, women were afforded leadership they could not have assumed in Victorian society beyond the sphere of the seance. Many were also connected to the struggle for women's suffrage.

Treister does not see herself within this lineage of spirit mediums, instead describing an interest in "areas of investigation currently unexplained by science, some of which may turn out to be differently accepted in future".

The Museum of Black Hole Spacetime grew out of a residency at the European Organization for Nuclear Research ( Cern) in Geneva. "One can look at much art practice as emanating from thought processes which access deeper levels of consciousness and which, as Bruce Nauman suggested, may 'reveal mystic truths'," she says. "Having spent a lot of time at Cern I would say this can apply equally to theoretical particle physicists."

Penny Slinger's Chakra Woman, 1976. Photograph: Courtesy Richard Saltoun Gallery, London and Blum and Poe, LA. Copyright Penny Slinger.

California-based artist Penny Slinger 's work has featured in both The Botanical Mind and Tantra exhibitions. "I always felt the practice of art to be akin to magical practices. In both cases, the intangible is being made manifest," she says. Slinger started exhibiting her feminist surrealist work in London in the late 1960s. While she had always been interested in the mystical (one might describe her collage works of the period as distinctly psychedelic) a visit to the 1971 Tantra exhibition at the Hayward Gallery was life-changing.

"When I walked into that amazing exhibit, I felt I had 'come home'," she recalls. "It was a sense of total recognition." The iconography and philosophy of Tantra is rooted in the concept of shakti - feminine energy. "Unlike much of our western definition of what is feminine, it is an active principle, an energy force underlying and underpinning all creation," explains Slinger. "As such, shakti presents a vehicle for the manifestation of the feminine that is unshackled, unrestrained and brimming with potential."

Her work increasingly turned toward Tantra. On show at Camden Art Centre, her collages Solar Flare and Eastern Alchemy (both 1976-77) offer an ecstatic, feminine vision of natural forces. To make the long scrolls Rose Devi and Chakra Woman - currently at the British Museum - Slinger applied areas of her naked body to a Xerox machine. "This was my way of 'bringing it home' and delivering it in a package that was at once shocking and arresting," she explains. "The series represented my homage to the 'chakra man' of Tantric art, bringing the mystic transmission into a modern, living context. Claiming it."

In 1979 Slinger co-authored the bestselling Sexual Secrets: The Alchemy of Ecstasy, and stepped away from an art world that was uncomfortable with her work. It took a new generation of feminist curators to bring her early art back into view this past decade. Slinger feels that it's about time there was a resurgence of interest in mystic subjects. "For a long time I had been encouraged by the world of fine art to remove references to the spiritual from my work."

Harminder Judge, who had an equally revelatory encounter with Tantric art, says that even 15 years ago, galleries would not have taken him seriously for engaging with spiritual subjects. "My interest in Tantra or Manichaeism? That kind of stuff was not cool: you'd get laughed out of the gallery. All of a sudden that's valid," he says. Ten years ago, Judge was celebrated for his ambitious performances, but lost faith with his own work and stepped away from the art world. A friend gave him Tantra Song, a book of abstract paintings made to assist meditation. It fuelled his desire to work in a new medium: highly polished gorgeously pigmented "paintings" built up in layers of plaster and wax.

Judge sees the art world's new openness as a response to larger shifts. "Artists are pretty sensitive, outward-looking. I feel artists are moving toward the spiritual again to comment on the forces connected to the rise of the right in Europe or Trump in the US - these scary political movements." Tantra, in particular, feels apt: it is "as much a reaction to conservatism as it is an ancient philosophy," says Judge.

This is, in broad terms, a sentiment echoed by Albert Whittle, recipient of the annual Frieze artist award for her powerful short film Reset. "Spiritualist practices always require and demand change of you," observes Whittle. "White supremacy does not want to change, it is so comfortable in itself."

Whittle left her home and studio in Glasgow to spend time with her family in Barbados during lockdown. Attending the Black Lives Matter marches, her mind turned to "early forms of protest on plantations" and how the pushback against black protest still "came down to a loss of property".

Whittle notes that some of the first laws passed by the British in the Caribbean forbade Obeah, the spiritual practice followed by enslaved west Africans. Just as Tantra was seen as a dangerous, unifying, revolutionary force by the British in India, so Obeah was seen as a source of rebellious power in the Caribbean. The 1898 Obeah Act condemned any person who "pretends to use any occult means, pretends to possess any supernatural power or knowledge".

In Reset, dancer Mele Broomes performs controlled ritualistic movements in a netted costume of ropes and shells, her body reflected in a cruciform pond. Whittle wanted her to look like "a goddess or some kind of avatar" as though she might have the power to summon a whirlwind of rebellion.

Avatar ... a still from Reset. Photograph: Alberta Whittle

"There's a very deep-seated fear of these different practices and their potential for resistance," says Whittle, whose work dives deep into the exploration of the uncanny: the enduring influence of ancestry, and the phantom-limb type sensations of having been uprooted, being out of place or out of time. For Whittle, spiritual and ritual practice in art is powerful, and subversive: "Thinking in other ways is a key idea of freedom."

Not Without My Ghosts will be at Millennium Gallery, Sheffield in December; Tantra is at the British Museum, London until 21 January 2021; The Botanical Mind is at Camden Art Centre, London until 23 December.

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The occult's return to art: 'Before, you'd have been laughed out of the gallery'

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ast night, Suzanne Treister took me on a 400bn light-year journey into space. The purpose was to visit her Museum of Black Hole Spacetime, and so, along with a couple of dozen fellow travellers, we jetted off - via a seance led by Treister.

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Susan Hiller.©SUSAN HILLER/COURTESY THE ARITST/CARLA BOREL

Susan Hiller, whose mysterious, discomfiting, and alluring works attempt to commune with supernatural beings and make visible invisible forces, has died at age 78, according to Lisson Gallery, which represents the artist. A representative for the gallery said she died of a "short illness."

"She was exacting, irreverent, mercurial, warmly mischievous, caring, and considerate," Andreas Leventis, the gallery's associate director, told ARTnews. "Expert on a diverse array of subjects, she wore her knowledge lightly and questioned everything."

Hiller is often grouped loosely with the British Conceptualists of the 1960s and '70s-she and Mary Kelly were the only two women included in a survey of the movement at Tate Britain in 2016. But Hiller eschewed the term "conceptual art," saying she preferred the word "paraconceptual" to describe her practice, given her interest in the supernatural.

"I'm interested in occult powers, and if people find this ludicrous that is their problem," Hiller told the Guardian in a 2015 interview. "I'm not a true believer but these things are there and to say they aren't is ridiculous."

Anne Gallagher, who curated a survey of Hiller's work for Tate Britain in 2011, said in a statement, "Susan's significance and influence as an artist is immense and will undoubtedly only increase over time, but her presence, her sharp intellect, her wisdom and her friendship will be much missed by so many."

Susan Hiller, 10 Months, 1977-79, 10 black and white composite photographs, 10 texts, arranged sequentially.©SUSAN HILLER/COURTESY LISSON GALLERY/GEORGE DARRELL

One of Hiller's earliest and most memorable adventures with the paranormal came during the '70s, when she began the project The Sisters of Menon (1972-79). Using a technique called automatic writing, in which a person scrawls text that is dictated by their subconscious or another person, Hiller penned words that she said were from multiple authors, whom she called the "sisters of Menon." Scholars have related the project to methods relied upon by the Surrealists, Fluxus artists, and Conceptualists, and to feminist concerns from the era. When Hiller's partner, David Coxhead, tried to speak with the sisters of Menon, they reportedly said they wouldn't converse with men.

Throughout her five decades of work, Hiller often made use of appropriated materials, creating video installations and photo-based projects in which she, in a sense, shared authorship with a network of other makers. For Psi Girls (1999), Hiller lifted clips from a variety of movies, including Firestarter, The Fury, and Stalker, in which women are shown making use of telekinetic powers, moving glasses and pencils simply with their minds. Hiller stripped all this footage of any dialogue, and added in its place recordings of hands clapping and a choir singing. She also tinted each clip a different color, further adding to the otherworldly feel of the work.

Indeed, it often seemed as though Hiller wanted to transport her viewers to another dimension or headspace by cinematic or aural means. Aliens and UFOs were a repeated point of interest. Her video installation Belshazzar's Feast, the Writing on Your Wall, which has taken a variety of forms throughout the years, features a TV set playing footage of flames inside a moodily lit mod living room. Included within the piece is the sound of a whispering voice reading a report from a British newspaper in which a person alleges that aliens are beaming messages about the end of the world through televisions, but people can't hear them. And for her sound installation Witness (2000), some 400 speakers play recordings of people describing their encounters with aliens.

Susan Hiller, Channels, 2013, video installation with sound.©SUSAN HILLER/COURTESY LISSON GALLERY/OH DANCY

Occasionally, her investigations carry a quiet poetic touch, as in her video piece The Last Silent Movie (2007/08), shown at Documenta 14, in 2017, which features a blank screen and the sounds of people speaking in dead or dying languages, accompanied by English subtitles so that they are alive, in at least some partial sense, for as long as the video screens.

Susan Hiller, Homage to Marcel Duchamp: Aura (Blue Woman), 2017, Giclée print.©SUSAN HILLER/COURTESY LISSON GALLERY/JACK HEMS

Hiller was born in 1940 in Tallahassee, Florida. As a teenager, she came across a Margaret Mead brochure about anthropology, and decided early on that she wanted to go into that field. Once she got married, during the 1960s, she moved to London, where she was put in touch with a number of British Conceptualists and Minimalists. Her work was seen as being too warm by some in her cohort. "The artefacts that interested me seemed to be things that were overlooked or discarded, kitsch or embarrassing," she said in 2005. "I liked to take them seriously."

Occasionally, her work evidenced an anthropologist's sensibility. Working on commission for the Freud Museum in London during the 1990s, Hiller began a project called From the Freud Museum, which groups unlike objects-reproductions of aboriginal cave paintings in Australia, essays on HIV/AIDS, ceramics, records-in archival boxes. The work was inspired by the Freud Museum's emphasis on displaying the psychoanalyst's personal belongings alongside artworks and antiquities from his collection, and was meant to expose cultural and historical biases integral to Western civilization.

Over the years, Hiller's work was surveyed frequently, at such venues as the Institute of Contemporary Art, London, the Moderna Museet in Stockholm, and the Castello di Rivoli in Turin, Italy.

In the last decade of her career, Hiller began applying her interests to the digital sphere. Her 2008 project Homage to Marcel Duchamp: Auras involved taking aura photographs-pictures meant to capture their sitters' energy-from the internet, altering them, and then re-presenting them in the form of a grid. She spoke of the project, an allusion to a 1910 Duchamp piece, as being about spirits and modern technology. "It's interesting that the subject dissolves in a cloud of colored light," she told Artforum. "On the one hand, the image has a history, and on the other, it is enigmatically definitive of how we see ourselves in the digital age. You know, we are pixels; we're light."

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Susan Hiller, Conjurer of Paranormal Activity Through Conceptual Art, Has Died at 78

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Susan Hiller, whose mysterious, discomfiting, and alluring works attempt to commune with supernatural beings and make visible invisible forces, has died at age 78, according to Lisson Gallery, which represents the artist. A representative for the gallery said she died of a "short illness."

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Celebrated artist on how the past informs his new exhibition

Celebrated artist Jeremy Millar talks to Neil Cooper about his interest in the history of culture and the ways in which references to the past inform his new exhibition

Jeremy Millar has just been listening to PJ Harvey's new album prior to talking about his forthcoming show at the CCA in Glasgow. Somehow the other-worldly, transcendent qualities of this most hypnotic of singer-songwriters fits in with Millar's aesthetic, adding another presence over our shoulders as he gathers his thoughts about why, exactly, he decided to encase himself in silicon and pose as a dead body for a newly commissioned sculpture, 'Self Portrait as a Drowned Man (The Willows)', that forms the show's centrepiece.

The cast for 'Self Portrait as a Drowned Man (The Willows)' has been built by special effects expert Grant Mason, whose work has previously been seen in Taggart and David Mackenzie's big-screen adaptation of Scots beat writer Alexander Trocchi's novel Young Adam. While this lends Millar's work a patina of pop cultural cred, it shouldn't undermine the seriousness of the work's intent.

'The last few years I've been interested in artwork that has some kind of effect,' Millar explains, the CD player muted. 'That an object, an act or a ritual has some sort of purpose and can bring about change. A lot of this comes from my researches into anthropology, where you find that in certain cultures an object or a sound can be deemed important, and can bring about some sort of change in the world.'

Millar's own set of totems come in many shapes and sizes. 'Self Portrait as a Drowned Man (The Willows)', which takes the second part of its title from a ghost story penned in 1907 by Algernon Blackwood and declared by many to be the best supernatural yarn ever written, will sit in the same room as a life-sized bronze cast of a fly. This comes from a story by Virgil about a man who, tasked with removing all the flies from Naples, put a similarly styled insect at the city gates to ward off his winged peers.

'I like the idea that an object can have supernatural powers,' Millar says, 'and that it doesn't matter what it looks like, but is more about what it does beyond that. Also, dead bodies attract flies.'

'A Firework For WG Sebald' is a series of photographs inspired by the German writer's 1995 novel The Rings of Saturn, and in part features images of a lighthouse seen in Peter Greenaway's 1988 art-house cinema classic Drowning By Numbers. In the film, every time there is a death, a boy sets off a firework. Millar has done something similar in his tribute to Sebald, and even claims that four of the pictures are possessed by something suitably spectral. 'You can see Sebald's face in the smoke,' Millar maintains with total seriousness.

Of the remaining works, 'The Writing of Stones' is a film that kaleidoscopically references a paragraph from French thinker Roger Caillois' similarly inclined examinations of the sacred, beginning with the words 'Life appears'. The key to 'Resemblances, Sympathies and other Acts', however, comes from Sol LeWitt's 'Incomplete Open Cubes', of which Millar has constructed eight metre-square versions.

'Sol LeWitt wrote that "Conceptual artists are mystics rather than rationalists". In this way, conceptual art can become something mystical or magical,' says the artist.

Millar can't explain where his fascinations come from, and he remains resolutely secular in outlook. 'All of us have moments when we try and imagine ourselves in a pretty horrific place,' he says. 'There's a sort of safety in knowing that it's not really happening.'

There are clear connections between Millar's own work and Every Day is a Good Day, a large-scale touring exhibition of paintings by composer John Cage curated by Millar, which coincidentally opens in Glasgow the week before Millar's show.

'In a way I'm sitting back and letting things develop,' he says. 'I quite like the idea of not having to make a decision.'

Beyond the CCA show, Millar will further his anthropological explorations with a group of Balinese performers to make a piece of musical theatre.

'I have no theatrical experience whatsoever,' Miller says, before PJ Harvey carries him away once more, 'and I don't know what form it will take, but I like a piece that emerges, and you suddenly find yourself a long way from shore.'
Jeremy Millar: Resemblances, Sympathies and Other Acts, CCA, Glasgow, Sat 26 Mar-Sat 7 May.

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Jeremy Millar on new exhibition Resemblances, Sympathies and Other Acts

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Jeremy Millar has just been listening to PJ Harvey's new album prior to talking about his forthcoming show at the CCA in Glasgow. Somehow the other-worldly, transcendent qualities of this most hypnotic of singer-songwriters fits in with Millar's aesthetic, adding another presence over our...

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Due to the coronavirus pandemic, the jury of the cancelled 2020 Turner Prize has selected 10 artists to receive £10,000 bursaries. The artists were chosen for their significant contributions to new developments in British contemporary art.

'Following a lively and rigorous virtual debate, the jury has settled on a list of ten fantastic artists who reflect the exceptional talent found in contemporary British art. From ceramics to film, performance to photography, they represent the many exciting and interdisciplinary ways that artists work today. These bursaries represent a vote of confidence in that work and offer some much-deserved support in challenging times.'
- Alex Farquharson, Director of Tate Britain

The Turner Bursaries are generously supported by John Booth, Catherine Petitgas and The Ampersand Foundation.

Arika

Arika is a political arts organisation based in Edinburgh who since 2001 have organised projects supporting connections between art and social change. Arika was selected by the jury for their innovative project Episode 10: A Means Without End presented at Tramway, Glasgow. The project was a 5-day programme of performances, discussions, screenings and study sessions exploring ideas in maths and physics as analogies for the desires and struggles of social life and existence.

Liz Johnson Artur

Liz Johnson Artur is a Ghanaian-Russian photographer based in London. For over thirty years she has been photographing the lives of people from the African diaspora in an ongoing project titled the Black Balloon Archive. The jury praised this body of work, in particular the exhibition at the South London Gallery If you know the beginning, the end is no trouble, which focused on her photographs of Black British life including Black-majority churches and non-binary club nights, presented in a series of installations.

Oreet Ashery

Oreet Ashery is a London-based artist whose projects include moving image, performance, photography, workshops, writing and assemblages. Ashery's work explores issues of gender, autoethnography, fiction, biopolitics and community. She was selected for her contribution to Misbehaving Bodies: Jo Spence and Oreet Ashery at the Wellcome Collection, which explored lived experiences of care and chronic illness. The jury were particularly moved by her new film Dying Under Your Eyes and the innovative web series Revisiting Genesis following two nurses who assist people actively preparing for death to create biographical slideshows serving as their posthumous digital legacy.

Shawanda Corbett

Shawanda Corbett is an Oxford-based artist whose expansive practice combines ceramics, paintings and performance to question the idea of the 'complete' body. Each of her hand-thrown ceramic vessels are inspired by real people and are frequently incorporated into politically charged performances in which Corbett's own body leaves traces on the pottery vessels and surfaces. The jury commended the power of her performance Blackbird Mississippi at the Serpentine Gallery in which the artist drew parallels between a slave's voyages on the underground railroad to the artist's own journey towards rehabilitation. The jury also noted the current exhibition of jazz-inspired paintings and hand-thrown ceramics Neighbourhood Garden at Corvi-Mora, London.

Jamie Crewe

Glasgow-based artist and singer Jamie Crewe uses video, sculpture, drawing and text to probe ideas of identity, power, desire, community and history. Crewe was selected for their 'sister' exhibitions at the Grand Union in Birmingham and the Humber Street Gallery in Hull. These were inspired by Radclyffe Hall's 1928 novel The Well of Loneliness and its lasting impressions on generations of LGBTQIA+ people. The jury particularly praised Crewe's dynamic and poetic retellings of mythology and literature while exploring contemporary notions of gender.

Sean Edwards

Sean Edwards, Undo Things Done (Wales in Venice), 2019 in parallel with the past i-iv, 2019, UV curable ink printed direct to medium density fibreboard substrate, perforated hardboard, plywood, hardboard, automotive spray paint, graphite, colouring pencil, household emulsion, plywood, wood glue and steel. Photograph: Jamie Woodley. Image Courtesy the Artist and Tanya Leighton gallery, Berlin.

Sean Edwards is a Cardiff-based artist who intertwines simple sculptural objects and mixed media installations with personal family histories. Edwards was selected for his installation Undo Things Done for the Welsh Pavilion at the 2019 Venice Biennale, which addressed austerity, class, shame and loss. Responding to his own experiences of growing up on a council estate, the work included a live radio play spoken by his mother from Cardiff and a video of shuffling dominoes evoking memories of his father.

Sidsel Meineche Hansen

London-based artist Sidsel Meineche Hansen investigates the ways in which virtual, robotic and human bodies are manufactured and manipulated in today's technology-driven, capitalist society. With particular attention to the pharmaceutical, pornographic, gaming and tech industries, Meineche Hansen explores how these different bodies relate to human labour. The jury noted the innovative use of VR and AR in her work and praised her exhibitions Welcome to End-Used City at Chisenhale Gallery and An Artist's Guide to Stop Being An Artist, at the National Gallery of Denmark.

Ima-Abasi Okon

Ima-Abasi Okon,
Infinite Slippage: nonRepugnant Insolvencies T!-a!-r!-r!-y!-i!-n!-g! as Hand Claps of M's Hard'Loved'Flesh [I'M irreducibly-undone because] -Quantum Leanage-Complex-Dub (2019)
Installation view, Chisenhale Gallery, 2019. Commissioned and produced by Chisenhale Gallery, London. Courtesy of the artist. Photo: Andy Keate.

Ima-Abasi Okon is a London and Amsterdam-based artist who works with sculpture, video, sound and installation. Okon was selected for her exhibition Infinite Slippage: nonRepugnant Insolvencies T!-a!-r!-r!-y!-i!-n!-g! as Hand Claps of M's Hard'Loved'Flesh [I'M irreducibly-undone because] -Quantum Leanage-Complex-Dub at Chisenhale Gallery. The jury praised this highly accomplished installation, which included industrial air conditioners adapted to become hosts for a multi-channel sound piece.

Imran Perretta

Imran Perretta, the destructors (2019). I
Installation view, Chisenhale Gallery, 2020. the destructors is produced by Chisenhale Gallery and Spike Island, Bristol, and commissioned by Chisenhale Gallery; Spike Island; the Whitworth, The University of Manchester; and BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead. Courtesy of the artist.
Photo: Andy Keate.

Imran Perretta examines marginality and cultural histories through film, performance, sound and poetry. The London-based artist was commended by the jury for his powerful recent film, the destructors 2019, which reflects on his experiences as a young man of Bangladeshi heritage. It addresses the complexities of 'coming of age' for south Asian men from Muslim backgrounds in the UK and explores the uncomfortable relationship between austerity and the War on Terror. The destructors was commissioned by and exhibited at Chisenhale Gallery, London; Spike Island, Bristol; the Whitworth, The University of Manchester; and BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead.

Alberta Whittle

Alberta Whittle lives and works between Barbados, Scotland and South Africa. Rooted in the experiences of the diaspora, Whittle's work incorporates performance, video, photography, collage and sculpture to tackle anti-blackness and the trauma, memory and ecological concerns which come in the aftermath of slavery and colonialism. The jury were moved by Whittle's exhibition How Flexible Can We Make the Mouth at Dundee Contemporary Arts which thoughtfully focused on healing, writing and speech as means of self-liberation.

The 2020 jury

The members of the 2020 jury were: Richard Birkett, Curator at Large at the Institute of Contemporary Arts; Sarah Munro, Director of BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art; Duro Olowu, designer and curator; and Fatoş Üstek, Director of Liverpool Biennial. The jury is chaired by Alex Farquharson, Director of Tate Britain.

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Due to the coronavirus pandemic, the jury of the cancelled 2020 Turner Prize has selected 10 artists to receive £10,000 bursaries. The artists were chosen for their significant contributions to new developments in British contemporary art. 'Following a lively and rigorous virtual debate, the jury has settled on a list of ten fantastic artists who reflect the exceptional talent found in contemporary British art.

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Carrie Mae Weems

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Carrie Mae Weems: “The Kitchen Table Series” (SHORT) | Art21

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Art21 is a celebrated global leader in presenting thought-provoking and sophisticated content about contemporary art, and the go-to place to learn first-hand from the artists of our time. A nonprofit organization, Art21’s mission is to inspire a more creative world through the works and words of con…

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Check out these publications

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Shop Whitechapel Gallery Books - Documents of Contemporary Art

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Buy Documents of Contemporary Art, the Whitechapel Gallery's acclaimed series of critical readers dedicated to key themes in contemporary art.

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Curated by Barry Schwabsky
25 November 2015 - 24 January 2016
White Cube Bermondsey

The group exhibition 'Tightrope Walk' brought together paintings by close to fifty artists in an effort to illuminate how the act of making a representational painting became redefined over the past century, following the emergence of abstraction as a competing proposition. Since then, representational painting has always been made in cognisance of abstraction - sometimes polemically against it but more often incorporating aspects of it into a new synthesis. The exhibition drew on some of the forms in which this contentious encounter has taken place and its impact on the many ways painters have revised their conception of what representation can be.

Francis Bacon explained his art to David Sylvester as 'a kind of tightrope walk between what is called figurative painting and abstraction.' He continued, 'It will go right out from abstraction, but will really have nothing to do with it. It's an attempt to bring the figurative thing up on to the nervous system more violently and more poignantly.' Just as Matisse's liberation of colour and Picasso's deconstruction of form helped make abstraction possible, the prevalence of abstraction has encouraged figurative painters to incorporate the geometry of the Constructivists and the free gesture of Abstract Expressionism, as well as following Duchamp in responding to and incorporating mechanical reproduction and the photographic. Some fragment the depicted body or recombine these fragments into new synthetic combinations. Sometimes objects become stylised signs for human presences and absences - or vice-versa, the human form is objectified. Some painters continue to work from an encounter with the model, but the result is just as likely to be a dichotomy rather than an accord between perception and depiction; others cut the cord to any pre-existing reality in order to deploy images purely as means of fiction and metaphor.

In many different ways painters before and since Bacon have been walking this tightrope between abstraction and the recognisable image, and the results have included some of the greatest works of the last century as well as this one. This exhibition looked specifically at what effect the advent of abstraction has had on painters' determination to continue painting non-abstractly. It aims to open new perspectives on familiar artists and to draw some of the lines connecting a number of today's best painters to their modernist forebears.

Featured work by artists ranging from Matisse, Picasso, and Duchamp through Alice Neel, Philip Guston, Lucian Freud and Bob Thompson, to contemporaries such as Michael Armitage, Georg Baselitz, Cecily Brown, Tracey Emin, Alex Katz, Marilyn Minter, Dana Schutz, Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, and many more, 'Tightrope Walk' was curated by Barry Schwabsky, art critic for The Nation in New York and co-editor of international reviews for Artforum as well as author of several books included Vitamin P: New Perspectives in Painting (Phaidon Press) and its sequel, Vitamin P2. His latest book is The Perpetual Guest: Art in the Unfinished Present.

A fully illustrated book, with an essay by Barry Schwabsky, was published on the occasion of the exhibition.

© Alex Katz, DACS, London / VAGA, New York 2015. Photo © Paul Takeushi Courtesy White Cube

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White Cube - Gallery Exhibitions - Tightrope Walk: Painted Images After Abstraction

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The group exhibition 'Tightrope Walk' brought together paintings by close to fifty artists in an effort to illuminate how the act of making a representational painting became redefined over the past century, following the emergence of abstraction as a competing proposition. Since then,

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Shades of Noir

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Terms of Reference Journals - Shades Of Noir

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This international, cross-generational exhibition is a celebration of women artists who have shaped and transformed, and continue to influence and expand, the language and definition of abstract painting. The exhibition...

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Mark Wallinger, born 1959 in Chigwell, Essex, is one of the most important artists of his generation. Widely known for his sculpture Ecce Homo, the first sculpture presented at the fourth plinth at Trafalgar Square in 1999, also exhibited in the British Pavilion at the 49th Venice Biennale in 2001 as well as in a solo exhibition at the Secession in 2000 in Vienna. In 2007 he won the Turner Prize for his installation State Britain.

The exhibition, entirely devoted to his paintings, is the artist's third solo show at Galerie Krinzinger. Upside Down Inside Out Back to Front brings together paintings made since 2015, incorporating three distinct, but related bodies of work, entirely hand-made and related to the proportions of the artist.

The id Paintings (2015/2016) are black-and-white monochromes that grew out of the extensive Self Portrait series (exhibited at Krinzinger in 2013). Each canvas is the width of the artist's span or height (180cm), by double height (360cm). They mark a significant shift from the painted 'I' to 'I paint'. These performative works follow the traces of the artist - both hands working simultaneously to achieve symmetry on the upright canvas. The painting is flipped halfway through the process and thenceforth there is a dialogue for the other half to take part in. These pieces bear some resemblance to the psychological Rorschach test: the standard set of symmetrical ink blots of different shapes and colours presented one by one to a subject who is asked to describe what they suggest or resemble. Recognition of figures is a reflection of our own desires and predilections, a mapping of the territory. We invite your introspection. You are implicated. Perhaps any mark when met with its mirror image, twin or double, has authority or meaning. One senses the process of making in more than purely visual terms because everything is pointing to active participation, something felt, experienced as empathy, is encouraged by the process itself. Painting is not usually experienced as a time-based medium. The various trajectories of a painting's making are subsumed in a rush to apprehension of its finality. The painting is ready for the viewer when the work is completed. Here the activity has ceased as a point of arrest, so one's scrutiny tends towards forensic examination: apprehension at the scene of the crime - evidence.

The Action Paintings (2017) are painted silver into black, wet on wet. The paintings capture four actions, (the canvas revolved by 90 degrees for each action) in the quickly drying paint. These works represent part of a larger concern with self-reflection, and how the trace of the hand's gestures are indicative of the artist's presence within the work: relaying movement and creating an unexpected illusory space that give the paintings a curious photographic quality. And, indeed, silver salts in gelatin are the light-sensitive material that is the basis of black-and-white photographs. 'Silver' has value and meaning beyond the paint and its reflective qualities here make for a shifting surface that is hard to define. The artist might be said to be painting with light.

The title Action Painting is obviously the term Harold Rosenberg coined in 1952 to describe how the canvas became 'an arena in which to act,' the painting being the residue of the act or process of painting itself. However, Wallinger dispenses with brushes and the 'brush mark' as some kind of authentic trace of the artist's psyche, and makes literal 'the hand of the artist.' What could be more authentic than the direct handling of paint?

The Mirror Paintings (2018) have developed from the Self Portraits and id Paintings. The artist comments 'Again working directly with my hands I began using silver paint on black grounds and working wet into wet. There is a hard-to-define embodying of gestures achieved by dint of the reflective nature of the paint and I was interested in paintings that shift and change according to the position of the viewer and the existent light. Pushing further I began to cover the entire expanse of the canvas with silver. These are worked in layers until the finished works are a palimpsest of their making, simultaneously registering the material of paint with depth and reflection. The surface sheen picks up the final gestures like the nap on cloth.'

Through the use of silver paint applied with the artist's hands in free-form gestures these new works represent a further fetishized encounter with the canvas. The memory of his touch is suspended in the substance of the paintings. Their surfaces are insistently sculptural, tracing his hand and fingerprints, asserting direct and immediate engagement. They also take on an unpredictable illusory quality as the material sets. This transformation infuses the paintings with 'a quality of otherness,' a sense of elusiveness that Wallinger likens to gazing through the surface of water. „I was bearing in mind Claude Monet's 'Water Lilies' and the ineffable space - the reflection on the surface of water of endless space. There is a photograph, a self portrait that Monet took of his shadow on the lily pond at Giverny that became emblematic to the sequence."

Mark Wallinger is one of the UK's leading contemporary artists. Having previously been nominated for the Turner Prize in 1995, he won in 2007 for his protest-installation against the Iraq War State Britain. His work Ecce Homo (1999-2000) was the first piece to occupy the empty plinth in Trafalgar Square. He represented Britain at the Venice Biennale in 2001. Labyrinth (2013), a major and permanent commission for Art on the Underground, was created to celebrate 150 years of the London Underground. In 2018, the permanent work Writ in Water was realized for the National Trust to celebrate Magna Carta at Runnymede, and The World Turned Upside Down was unveiled in 2019 for the London School of Economics. Selected solo exhibitions at: Serpentine Gallery, London (1995); Portikus, Hamburg (1999); Museum for Gegenwartskunst, Basel (1999); Palais Des Beaux-Arts, Brussels (1999); Tate Liverpool, Liverpool (2000); Vienna Secession, Vienna (2000); Whitechapel Gallery, London (2001); Neue Nationalgalerie, Berlin (2004); Hangar Bicocca, Milan (2005); Museo de Arte Carillo Gil, Mexico City (2006); Tate Brita London in, (2007); Kunstverein Braunschweig, Braunschweig (2007); Aargauer Kunsthaus, Aarau (2008); Kunstnernes Hus, Oslo (2010); Museum de Pont, Tilburg (2011); BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead (2012); Serlachius Museum, Mänttä (2016); The Fruitmarket Gallery, Edinburgh (2017); Dundee Contemporary Arts, Dundee (2017); Centro per l'Arte Contemporanea Luigi Pecci, Prato (2018) and Jerwood Gallery, Hastings (2018). Collections including: Tate, London; MoMA, New York; and Centre Pompidou, Paris. After sum (2013) and W-E (2005), Upside Down Inside Out Back to Front fully devoted to his paintings, is the artist's third solo exhibition at the Main Space of Galerie Krinzinger.

Courtesy Galerie Krinzinger / Photo Tamara Rametsteiner

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pictures and details of mark wallinger: upside down inside out back to front at galerie krinzinger

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2019 – contemporary art with installation views

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Mark Wallinger: Upside Down Inside Out Back to Front at Galerie Krinzinger, Vienna

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Mark Wallinger, born 1959 in Chigwell, Essex, is one of the most important artists of his generation. Widely known for his sculpture Ecce Homo, the first sculpture presented at the fourth plinth at Trafalgar Square in 1999, also exhibited in the British Pavilion at the 49th Venice Biennale in 2001 as well as in a solo exhibition at the Secession in 2000 in Vienna.

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Andy Warhol,
Rorschach, 1984

Rorschach, 1984

Rorschach, 1984
164 x 115 in.

Rorschach, 1984

Rorschach, 1984

andy warhol: rorschach paintingsby Mia Fineman

Andy Warhol's Rorschach paintings, produced in a giant spurt of activity in 1984, have the kind of star quality that Warhol always admired. Liquid, protean and seductively vacant, they reflect your own desires and fantasies right back at you. Conceived in the spirit of superstar Nico's beguiling promise ("I'll be your mirror"), these pictures will be whatever you want them to be. The entire series of Rorschach paintings, many of which have never been shown before, were put on view in a massive show at both Gagosian in Soho and up on Madison Avenue. There are 38 paintings at the uptown venue--upstairs are medium-sized symmetrical black stains on bright white backgrounds, while downstairs are smaller works, including a wall of paintings made with multicolored, butterfly-like blots in gaudy tones of pink, yellow, sea-green, violet and cobalt blue. Seven huge canvases, each about 10 by 14 feet, fill the lofty downtown space, including two on the west wall composed of glitzy gold blots that verge into the brash decorative register of rococo wallpaper. But many of the paintings--especially the large ones-- have a queer sort of carnal presence. Aside from the undeniably genital imagery, the symmetrical networks of thick, syrupy veins of paint left behind by Warhol's pour-and- fold technique conjure up the fleshy physicality of lungs or kidneys. Hermann Rorschach, the Swiss psychiatrist who invented the eponymous test, was himself a frustrated artist whose high school buddies prophetically nicknamed him Kleck, meaning "inkblot," because of his interest in sketching. In a real Rorschach Test, a patient is asked to describe what he sees in ten standardized blots--some black and gray, others with patches of color. Trained professionals then measure the responses against a set of established norms, interpreting the interpretations to unearth dark secrets about the subject's personality, intelligence and sexual proclivities. Although Warhol professed ignorance about the standardized blots of the official Rorschach Test, he was obviously intrigued by their serial repetitiveness and formulaic impersonality. In his brilliant faux-naive deadpan, he explained: "I was trying to do these to actually read into them and write about them, but I never really had the time to do that. So I was going to hire somebody to read into them, to pretend that it was me, so that they'd be a little more...interesting. Because all I would see would be a dog's face or something like a tree or a bird or a flower. Somebody else could see a lot more." Warhol never actually got around to hiring an analytical ghost-writer, but Gagosian managed to snag critic extraordinaire Rosalind Krauss to say something interesting about the paintings. In her rather highbrow catalogue essay, Krauss reads the Rorschach series as a "parodic vision of Color Field abstraction," as a sassy corruption of the "stain painting" practiced by Helen Frankenthaler and Morris Louis, Kenneth Noland and Jules Olitski. If the Color Field painters wanted to transcend the carnal messiness of Abstract Expressionism, to move painting into the disembodied realm of pure opticality, as Krauss says, then Warhol "pulled the plug" on these sublime aspirations by reminding us that there's no form so innocently abstract that it can't be turned back into literary content--like a tree or a bird or a flower. And it's true--these are abstract paintings without the heavy air of cryptic obscurity and vague profundity that hangs around a lot of abstract art. There's a democratic, do-it-yourself quality to the Rorschach paintings: you can read whatever you want into them, there are no wrong answers. Go see the show when you're a little tired, when you're defenses are down, when you need to sort out and discard some of the odd junk lying around between your ears. That's what I did, and this is what I saw: a blooming iris; a solar plexus; a sinister jack-in-the-box; Jimmy Durante's nose; a couple of flamenco dancers in a bowl of Cheerios; a schematic portrait of Groucho Marx; a pouncing black cat; the Lone Ranger with a bad skin disease; a grimacing clown's face; a startled elephant; twin fetuses with coiled tails; a grizzly bear with his head lodged in a guillotine; a mutant Mickey Mouse licking his own tail; two facing seahorses kissing a penis; a vampire bat swooping down over a headless male nude; a giant insect crawling up a wall and extruding a rooster-shaped turd; an atom bomb exploding over the man in the moon. Any further analysis is best left to trained professionals. MIA FINEMAN is a New York writer.

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artnet.com Magazine Features - ANDY WARHOL: RORSCHACH PAINTINGS

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Andy Warhol, Rorschach, 1984 Rorschach, 1984 Rorschach, 1984 164 x 115 in. Rorschach, 1984 Rorschach, 1984 andy warhol: rorschach paintings by Mia Fineman Andy Warhol's Rorschach paintings, produced in a giant spurt of activity in 1984, have the kind of star quality that Warhol always admired.

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Nalini Malani: Can You Hear Me? - Whitechapel Gallery

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Nalini Malani’s first UK commission, immersviely explores themes of violence, feminism, politics, racial tensions and social inequality.

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''My work is all about our relationship with animals and nature'There is humour in the work, but a serious side explores how we use our relationship with animals to define our humanness.'

Marcus Coates

This exhibition is the first survey of Marcus Coates' work in a public gallery in the UK and it includes early film pieces, sculpture, sound, costumes and photographs as well as new work.

Coates often assumes the identity of an animal, such as a fox, goshawk or stoat, by simulating its appearance, enacting its habits and appropriating its language. In the film, 'Stoat' (1999), for example, Coates totters around on ramshackle platforms, learning to recreate the animal's bounding movements; in 'Goshawk' (1999), a telephoto lens captures the artist as a rare bird perched precariously at the top of a tree; while in 'Finfolk' (2003), the artist emerges from the North Sea spluttering a new dialect, as spoken by seals.

Coates has also trained as a shaman and the exhibition includes films of his rituals, where he achieves a trance-like state and communes with the animal kingdom to address social issues. Wearing an array of costumes such as a badger's hide, a stuffed horse's head, a blonde wig and a necklace of money (all of which will be on display), Coates has addressed issues including prostitution, regeneration and swine flu for communities worldwide and most recently in Israel, Japan and Switzerland.

''I feel that my imagination can be put to good use socially, even politically.'

Marcus Coates

'Dawn Chorus '(2007) is a major, multi-screen installation in which human voices re-create the chorus sung at dawn by birds, including a chaffinch, pheasant and yellowhammer. Together with wildlife sound recordist Geoff Sample, Coates recorded individual birds singing simultaneously on a single morning. Each was slowed down to a human pitch, so that people could be filmed mimicking these lower and slower sounds in their own natural habitats, such as a hotel, osteopath's clinic or even a bath tub. The films were then accelerated until people twitter like birds and their voices precisely echo the original birdsong.

Coates' interest in appearance and transformation is encapsulated in the sculpture 'Peregrine', 1999, where an ordinary starling has been re-cast as a powerful predator, through the simple painting of its feathers.

The exhibition includes works spoken in numerous tongues as Coates exploits the spiritual and social potential of art and ultimately addresses his audiences using the universal language of the imagination.

'Psychopomp' means 'the guide of souls'; they are creatures, spirits, angels, or deities in many religions whose responsibility is to escort newly-deceased souls to the afterlife, or to act as mediators between the unconscious and conscious realms. They have been associated in many cultures with animals, such as horses, dogs, crows and sparrows. In many cultures, the shaman fulfills the role of the psychopomp.

Marcus Coates Biography

Marcus Coates' (born 1968) practice questions how we perceive human nature through imagined non-human situations. An extensive knowledge and understanding of British wildlife has led him to create interpretations of the natural world and its evolving relationship with society. An aspect of Coates' recent work sees him as a 'useful social agent' or problem solver.

Using his skills and position in society as an artist and his knowledge of British wildlife he seeks resolutions to social issues for clients. Through self designed rituals informed by traditional cultures he consults a non conscious world of animals and birds to seek relevant information. He has performed 'consultations' with a variety of clients: Ikebukuru Council, Tokyo, Japan, the Mayor of Holon in Israel, a residents housing association in Liverpool and City Council of Stavanger in Norway. Their problems range from illegal cycle parking, prostitution and the Israeli/Palestinian crisis. Coates' videos, performances and installations have been shown internationally.

Related Articles

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''My work is all about our relationship with animals and nature'There is humour in the work, but a serious side explores how we use our relationship with animals to define our humanness.' Marcus Coates This exhibition is the first survey of Marcus Coates' work in a public gallery in the UK and it includes early film pieces, sculpture, sound, costumes and photographs as well as new work.

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P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center presents Janet Cardiff: A Survey of Works including collaborations with George Bures Miller, the first mid-career survey of the Canadian artist's artwork. The exhibition includes a selection of the artist's most significant installations as well as a survey of her "Walks." Curated by P.S.1 Senior Curator Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev, the show brings together all of Cardiff's major installations, including To Touch (1993), The Dark Pool (1995), Playhouse (1997), The Muriel Lake Incident (1999), and Forty-Part Motet (2001), and is the first and most comprehensive survey of Cardiff's work to date.

Cardiff (b. 1957) has gained international recognition for her audio and video "Walks" in which visitors, while listening to a CD walkman or watching the screen of a camcorder, follow the artist's directions through a site and become involved in the stories embedded in Cardiff's recorded instructions and suggestions. Voices, footsteps, music, sounds of cars, and gunshots make up a fictional soundtrack to an actual walk through real indoor and outdoor spaces. Cardiff's works involve the conventions of cinema and science fiction and explore the complexity of subjectivity in today's highly technological world, where the distinction between sensation and imagination continuously collapses. In Cardiff's "Walks," characters narrate dream-like recollections of particular events and refer to the participant's physical surroundings. Shifting between past and present, memory and reality, Cardiff's stories become a manipulation of the "real" and of a participant's projections, fantasies, and desires. This survey will present documentation of Cardiff's most significant "Walks" in a unique and innovative way.

Janet Cardiff was born in Brussels, Ontario, in 1957 and lives and works in Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada. She and artist George Bures Miller currently represent Canada at the 2001 Venice Biennial, where they were awarded a prize for The Paradise Institute (2001). Cardiff has created site-specific audio and video works for a number of group exhibitions, such as NowHere, Louisiana Museum, Humlebaek, Denmark (1996); Skulptur Projekte, Münster (1997); São Paolo Biennial (1998); La Ville, le Jardin, la Memoire, Villa Medici, Rome (1998); The Carnegie International, Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh (1999); The Museum as Muse, MoMA, New York; and 010101, SFMoMA, San Francisco (2001), among others. In 1999, Cardiff was also commissioned by Artangel to create a walk in London, titled The Missing Voice (Case Study B).

This exhibition will tour to the Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal and the Palazzo delle Esposizioni, Rome. A comprehensive monograph on Cardiff's work is being published by P.S.1 on the occasion of this exhibition. It contains a survey essay by Christov-Bakargiev, focused chapters on individual works, black-and-white and color images of works, and scripts. The catalogue also includes a detailed chronology with an ample anthology of critical essays by an array of international authors, as well as a complete bibliography.

This exhibition and catalogue are made possible by the National Endowment for the Arts, the Canadian Consulate, The Canada Council for the Arts, The James Family Foundation, and B.Z. and Michael Schwartz.

Special thanks also to Luhring Augustine Gallery, New York, and Galerie Barbara Weiss, Berlin.

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Janet Cardiff: A Survey of Works, Including Collaborations with George Bures Miller | MoMA

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Exhibition. Oct 14, 2001-Jan 31, 2002. P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center presents Janet Cardiff: A Survey of Works including collaborations with George Bures Miller, the first mid-career survey of the Canadian artist's artwork. The exhibition includes a selection of the artist's most significant installations as well as a survey of her "Walks."

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David Medalla

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This work is a kinetic sculpture consisting of wooden boxes arranged in a circle on the gallery floor with a tall plastic tube placed at their centre. At the bottom of the tube is a quantity of soapy liquid that is turned into foam by compressors located inside the wooden portions of the sculpture. This results in the foam being projected upwards and out of the tube, forming a jet of bubbles that extends above head-height. The plastic of the tube is clear, such that once the bubbles are released they can be seen rising up inside the tube. The bubbles are produced constantly and form cloud-like clusters at the top of the tube, and once these clusters have been propelled upwards they drop back and slide slowly down the exterior of the tube to its base, where they rejoin the bath of soapy liquid from which they came.

Cloud Canyons No. 3: An Ensemble of Bubble Machines (Auto Creative Sculptures) was made by the Filipino artist David Medalla in 1961. It is among the earliest of several 'bubble machines' that Medalla produced at the time and first exhibited in 1964 at Signals Gallery in London, a space devoted to international kinetic art that Medalla co-founded that same year. Cloud Canyons No. 3 bears the additional date of 2004, as it was recreated that year for the exhibition Art & The 60s: This Was Tomorrow at Tate Britain in London.

Although the materials and construction for Cloud Canyons No. 3 are controlled by Medalla each time it is installed, the sculpture changes constantly once it is on display due to the varying shapes formed by the foam. In an interview in 1979, Medalla noted that he had been attempting with his sculptures to give 'tangible form to invisible forces ... to find a model which would show the transformation of matter into energy' (quoted in Araeen 1997, p.11), and the words 'cloud' and 'canyon' in the work's title reflect the artist's interest in the random shapes formed by the earth's natural processes. The art critic Guy Brett has described the first installation of Cloud Canyons No. 3 in 1964 as follows:

The foam was allowed to follow its own aleatory paths, emerging and forming according to its own energies interacting with gravity, air currents, atmospheric pressure, and the shape of the containers ... the analogy with clouds was no exaggeration. It was never the same two days in a row.
(Brett 1995, p.53.)

In creating his series of Cloud Canyons, Medalla drew on a range of artistic practices as well as scientific theories that were emerging at the time. He was inspired by the 'auto-destructive' sculptures of the Polish artist Gustav Metzger, a friend of Medalla who was also involved with Signals Gallery, and by current research into relativity and cellular biology. Medalla has explained that his use of bubbles was also connected to specific childhood memories, including the clouds in tropical sunsets in Manila; watching his mother cooking; a visit to a brewery in Edinburgh; and the frothing mouth of a wounded Japanese soldier he discovered in the family garden. Although his work was inspired by personal experience, Medalla was concerned with breaking the boundary between the spectator and the artwork and intended for viewers to bring their own personal interpretations to the cloud-like forms created by the bubble machines. He said in 1968:

The most important thing is to give life to materials, so that instead of finding ourselves separate from them, we find a complete dialogue with the material.
(Quoted in Brett 1995, p.62.)

Photographs of the bubbles created by Medalla's work were reproduced in the Signals Gallery Newsbulletin in September 1964. In the accompanying text, Metzger called Medalla 'the first master of auto-creative art', implying that Medalla's practice was a variation on Metzger's own auto-destructive art. Metzger argued that the bubble machines were 'capable of achieving not only the most complex forms and motions but also an aesthetic content of the highest order', and that they were extensions of the work of earlier modernist sculptors such as Constantin Brancusi, Hans Arp, Alexander Calder and Naum Gabo. In 1968, Signals member Paul Keeler showed a copy of the September 1964 Newsbulletin to the artist Marcel Duchamp, who subsequently created an edition of one hundred sculptures entitled Medallic Object that took the form of a medal bursting with bubble-shaped forms.

Further reading
Rasheed Araeen, 'Conversation with David Medalla', Black Phoenix, no.3, Spring 1979, pp.10-19.
Guy Brett, Exploding Galaxies: The Art of David Medalla, London 1995, pp.50-65.
Pamela M. Lee, Chronophobia: On Time in the Art of the 1960s, Cambridge, Massachusetts 2006, pp.126-30.

Fiona Anderson
May 2014

Supported by Christie's.
Does this text contain inaccurate information or language that you feel we should improve or change? We would like to hear from you.

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‘cloud canyons no. 3: an ensemble of bubble machines (auto creative sculptures)’

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'Cloud Canyons No. 3: An Ensemble of Bubble Machines (Auto Creative Sculptures)', David Medalla, 1961, remade 2004 | Tate

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Artwork page for 'Cloud Canyons No. 3: An Ensemble of Bubble Machines (Auto Creative Sculptures)', David Medalla, 1961, remade 2004 Medalla has described himself as 'a poet who celebrates physics', combining science and nature with art.

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Drawing inspiration from the lush plants, vibrant flowers, birds and constantly changing weather of this tropical habitat, her mixed media abstract paintings evoke the living energy of the forest: large, unstretched canvases are swathed in colour, gestural brushstrokes and organic motifs.

In 2005, a tropical storm destroyed large parts of Panajachel and flooded Suter's studio. Rather than seeing damage in the canvases, which were caked in mud and stained with watermarks, Suter saw her work developing in response to, and in harmony with, its environment. Since then, she has embraced the unpredictability of her adopted home, actively encouraging the intrusion of the elements into her practice. Her unprimed canvases are left outdoors to absorb the traces of falling leaves, rainwater, dirt, passing animals and the marks of her dogs, Bonzo, Nina and Tintin, imprinting the daily life of the forest onto the surface of each work.

For this exhibition, Suter filled the galleries with her delicate but powerful paintings, hanging them in an immersive cacophony which mirrors the canopy of the rainforest: suspended, draped, overlapping and organic. Composed individually but hung collectively, one canvas reveals the next, creating an ethereal record of the passage of time and forming a permeable membrane between nature and civilisation. Removed from the tropical setting in which they were conceived, the paintings bear witness to their unique environment at a time of renewed focus on this vital but increasingly vulnerable ecological resource.

Suter conceived a new installation specially for Camden Arts Centre's garden. Transferred from the rainforest in which they were conceived, to hang in dialogue with London's winter landscape, the works will develop throughout the exhibition, accumulating memories of their interactions with this environment.

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Drawing inspiration from the lush plants, vibrant flowers, birds and constantly changing weather of this tropical habitat, her mixed media abstract paintings evoke the living energy of the forest: large, unstretched canvases are swathed in colour, gestural brushstrokes and organic motifs. In 2005, a tropical storm destroyed large parts of Panajachel and flooded Suter's studio.

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The Botanical Mind: Art, Mysticism and The Cosmic Tree - Camden Art Centre

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The Botanical Mind brought together work by over 60 visionary, surrealist, modern, outsider, indigenous Amazonian and contemporary artists to reveal the on…

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REVIEWS

Laura Owens at Sadie Coles HQ, London

by Nicholas Hatfull

The accommodating rhyme scheme of Laura Owens's first show at Sadie Coles's Kingly Street space puts bitmap pixels, silkscreened threads and the often visible tooth of the linen support on neighbourly terms. Of a swath just shy of fifty paintings, knottiest are several large formats enacting a disruption of enlarged embroideries, or painting software efforts that echo the woven. An absorbing essay in moss greens is elaborated from a piece signed "E OWENS 83"-presumably the artist's grandmother-and shows a cross-section of a well-appointed period house. It's a while before you notice actual yarn leaping through the surface.

Pixels bubbling forth are unsettled in scale, evoking and freezing deep dives with the zoom tool, but are foamily expressive, too-tesserae breezily revealed. These glitches flag up granular richness, underwriting the open-weave scrambling of motif and picture. An off-kilter painting within a painting of a lighthouse caught in a kelp-colored sunset acquaints some descendent of pointillism with the sun-bleached palette of a favorite T-shirt. The queasy, deprived colors familiar from graphics of yore are given heft and self-assurance by their elaborate reincarnation-there have been exacting demands made of screenprinting, for sure. The subject calls to mind stuttering paint programs from more like thirty years ago-the passage of time kindly allowing nuance, even melancholy. A recently bygone mode, just as serviceable as found objects of a distinct vintage. This expansive frame of reference is not new, but the multitasking and cross-referencing of the juggling has been ratcheted up.

Chatterbox brushstrokes shift between the anonymous abandon of pen-testing pads to the practiced and weighed, like translucent scoops of viridian in a tennis net scene, which fractures a headband-sporting player, shot through with a dazzling cross-stitch. The actual racquet being sewn into an adjacent, modest canvas appears a curiously mute found object, and something of a backhand slice, but may be one of Owens's strongest suits: opening up space to speak extemporaneously. The by-now patented cookie-cutter doodle, and various spatial limbos originating in Photoshop, are still paralleled by caricatured physicality in cake-mix-thick paint, blithely dispensed sand, and insouciant charcoal. "Contrast" seems an inadequate explanation of how well this works; it's delicious in the way lime bursts through an earthy mole. The artist has offered onomatopoeia as a way of understanding the behavior of her marks, and indeed there are essences, like the sensual equivalents itemized by Roland Barthes on Cy Twombly, where a certain scrawl is casual like a sloughed-off pair of jeans.

Attentive surface grazing is certainly rewarded. Just when you've acclimatized to raw linen, you encounter a polluted sky squeegeed repeatedly on such pristine gesso that it becomes reflective. This ping-pong facture is worn lightly, but could hardly be more committed. There is a steely thoroughness in the scoping of avenues indicated by the work. One petite canvas seems to celebrate a typical glob of Play-Doh-ish paint. Except, impossible to discern online (or at five paces), it's a trompe-l'oeil retort-printed, not caked. Owens is not averse to the one-liner, delivered briskly. To some tastes, this might smack of completism-isn't this over-egging? But, as with a set of ceramic emoji-an idea that should be no more detaining than the plush hearts and turds stuffing the windows of souvenir shops-the premise is comfortably transcended.

A state change is often performed where something you might have considered twee is beefed up and invigorated. One work bearing the legend "Time for Tea" blows up a coloring-book page, rendering the teapot concerned positively philosophical. The fibers of the paper source, revealed by supersizing, are retained in the silkscreen, as is the ghost of a polar bear we would have encountered on the overleaf. But nowhere is Owens's transmogrification of vernacular sources more adventurous than in a customary array of artist's books. Rife with babbling tongues, from midcentury editions of the Los Angeles Times to disquieting spam, they eviscerate these materials and heighten their graphic properties. The old papers become inky heritage Pop, while mosaics of heavy pixellation seem an appropriate guise for unsolicited drivel. If anything, further subtleties of ineffable shallow space are found within these pages-peek-a-boo windows, the occasional deliberately dog-eared corner on a meta-page. One newspaper clipping is headed with what might be clung to as an aphorism for this resolutely untitled show-Screwball Ideas Essential.

The inclusion of what (anecdote has it) comprised the entire contents of the studio at the time of shipping, along with a puckish website matching thumbnails with oral accounts of technical challenges certain paintings entailed, feels declarative. Declining to hold much, or anything, back (though the hang negotiates a canny valley between more than enough and all too much) seems in keeping with the voluminous Studies section of the artist's personal website. This foregrounding of the strange practicalities, repetitions, even monotonies of the studio asks whether painting must retain some of its mystique by a counterintuitive up-front-ness. You could call this a form of brinkmanship. Taking in the show, we are held in a moment where a picnic blanket, laden with the full gamut of painterly utensils, dishes, and condiments, is once again tossed in the air. The tableware is sent tumbling, the rug billows as it's whisked away. What might have been trifles are writ large, with scything brio.

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by Nicholas Hatfull The accommodating rhyme scheme of Laura Owens's first show at Sadie Coles's Kingly Street space puts bitmap pixels, silkscreened threads and the often visible tooth of the linen support on neighbourly terms. Of a swath just shy of fifty paintings, knottiest are several large formats enacting a disruption of enlarged embroideries, or ...

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One day, Jenny Holzer saw a picture. It showed a woman with her legs spread, lying in a forest after being raped and murdered. The drawing, by the unflinching German artist Käthe Kollwitz, provoked Holzer to write some text in the voice of an imagined adviser to the attacker. "Crack the pelvis so she lies right. This is a mistake. When she dies you cannot repeat the act. The bones will not grow together again and the personality will not come back."

Another text, for the same Under a Rock series, read: "Nothing will stop you the mad foreigner. No one sees you walking with a tick tick in your dick. You set a bomb in the Queen City of the big nation to start the war that stops when silence breaks the ears of dead people." She made these words flash across LED signs and carved them into stone benches. One of the LEDs is at the Sprüth Magers gallery in London for a show called Sophisticated Devices, featuring Holzer's work from the 1980s, including her collaboration with New York graffiti artist Lady Pink.

In one work, a Holzer slogan howls from Lady Pink's graffiti through the window to the street beyond: "I am not free because I can be exploded anytime." It's characteristic Holzer: text as punchy as a headline, yet confusing to unsuspecting passersby. Inside, there are marble benches inscribed with texts. Visitors seem unsure if they're permitted to sit on them. Holzer hopes they will.

Meanwhile, at Sprüth Magers's sister gallery in Berlin, Holzer has a show of more recent work called Endgame. For this, she plundered declassified US war documents, including autopsy reports, FBI emails from Guantánamo and letters from detainees - and meticulously reworked them in paint.

Although two decades separate the work in the two shows, they are surely the work of a politically conscious artist. "On the worst days, I don't feel like an artist," laughs Holzer when I put this to her. "The continuity between this show and the other is tough content. That's what I gravitate towards." Where does this dark aesthetic come from? "The desperate things seem to require attention, the lovely things seem to elicit celebration. If I had to choose, I would go to the awful in the hope that doing something could yield a happier result."

Holzer, now 61 and living in Hoosick Falls in upstate New York, is perhaps best known for the slogans she put on everything from T-shirts and caps to LEDs and even condoms in New York in the late 70s and early 80s. In those days, she would skulk around at night putting up posters with texts culled from Karl Marx, Susan Sontag and other intellectuals: "The desire to reproduce is a death wish" was one; "Romantic love was invented to manipulate women" another.

"I would sneak around the morning after I'd pasted them up to see if anybody would stop," recalls Holzer. "That's the test of street art - to see if anybody stopped. People would cross out ones they didn't like and would star others. I liked that people would engage with them."

Later, she put up a huge electronic billboard above Times Square that read: "Protect me from what I want." There's an endlessly reproduced shot from 1983 of Lady Pink, cigarette in hand, walking down a New York street wearing denim shorts and a singlet inscribed with the Holzer text: "Abuse of power comes as no surprise." Have you ever worn one of your T-shirts? "No, that would be mortifying. Shoot me if you ever see me in one."

Holzer didn't set out to be a conceptual artist who uses text, but rather an abstract painter. "I wanted to be soft like Rothko and ruthless like Ad Reinhardt." So you were inspired by men not women? "There was a real paucity of role models. When I was a kid, the only artist I knew about was Picasso courtesy of Life magazine. And, as a little female kid in Ohio, it was hard to identify with Picasso: his life with his babes and my life with my cat were rather different."

We're chatting amid her flashing LED installations in the gallery's basement. Holzer is nursing a broken arm, the result of being smashed into by a cyclist in a park in Paris three weeks ago. Did the cyclist stop? "No, but a nice granny and grandpa hovered over me. Now I've got all kinds of metal and garbage in my arm. I'm the most scanned individual at an airport because I'm full of metal." If only she'd been wearing a T-shirt with the slogan: "Cyclists should not race through parks like sociopathic boneheads."

Holzer gave up her dream of emulating Rothko and Reinhardt in 1976 when, after a liberal arts education followed by art school, she took part in a study programme at the Whitney Museum in New York. Holzer's tutor Ron Clark smothered her and her fellow students in texts. "He gave us a wonderful yet absolutely daunting reading list that, happily, I reacted against. I reduced all the reading to one-liners." Her version of the list, turned into a work called Truisms, features such nuggets as: "A lot of professionals are crackpots."

Why put these words on posters? "I knew the reading list had genuinely important material and I knew most people in the world wouldn't read it. So I thought, 'Maybe I can convey some of the valuable content in an accessible way.'"

In the decades that followed, Holzer developed more sophisticated ways of using text; her work moved from the streets into venerated art institutions, becoming infinitely more distinguished visually. As an example of her painterly sensibility expressing itself through electronic light, she is most proud of her 2001 installation for Berlin's Neue Nationalgalerie: amber text scrolled along 13 LEDs 49 metres long that hung below a ceiling of black-painted steel beams, all of this inside Mies van der Rohe's building. "We managed to turn the air amber - that was my equivalent to the halo in a Rothko."

This installation marked a break in Holzer's work. From that point on, she would use only other people's words. "Because I'm a bad writer. I was so relieved to stop, not just for sheer laziness but because I was able to expand what I could do when I work with other people." One such project saw her projecting In Praise of Feeling Bad About Yourself, by Nobel-winning Polish poet Wisława Szymborska, on to the Chicago Tribune Tower. She remembers fondly what the poet - who died aged 88 in February - thought of Holzer's projections. "She watched them scroll over a castle and a river and laughed. She was a good laugher."

Holzer also made entire novels scroll across a convention centre in Pittsburgh. "Computers have big brains, so you can put a lot of stuff up. People who worked there would see something different every day." Holzer now often projects words on to waves or around the contours of buildings. Why? "This is maybe ridiculously pretentious, but I want it to be a little like song. You know, rise and fall."

Any suggestion that Holzer has softened politically is confounded by her work since 2004, much of it featured in Endgame. Catalysed by her loathing for war in Iraq and Afghanistan, she studied redacted, declassified documents from the US's National Security Archive and made silkscreen paintings of the most striking. They include maps used to plan the invasion of Iraq; these look like parodies of US foreign policy but, disturbingly, are the real thing. Big arrows are marked with such words as "Exploit" and "Isolate". She laughs: "They really did say shock and awe!" In 2010, she started hand-painting copies of some of these documents - why the return to painting after a three-decade layoff? "I wanted to show time and care. I wanted it to be an indicator of sincerity and attention. I wanted it to be human."

Does the work reflect your own political views? "Don't be a psycho killer - that has to be a goal, right?" she says, laughing again. "Having torture seemingly normalised is, I don't think, a positive thing. Not enough people have stated that." But, crucially, Holzer doesn't overtly state that: she leaves us to arrive at that belief through looking at her work. "I think the material speaks for itself," she says. "There's no reason for me to give my pathetic opinion."

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Jenny Holzer's stark, often shocking slogans have graced T-shirts, posters, LEDs and even condoms. As a show of her early work opens, the US artist tells Stuart Jeffries why she's drawn to dreadful things

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Not Without My Ghosts: The Artist As Medium

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Drawing Room and Hayward Gallery Touring presents ​Not Without My Ghosts: The Artist As Medium,​ a major exhibition of artists and works inspired by mediumistic methodologies and their deep cultural history. ‘[A] fascinating celebration of ethereal forces’ - The Guardian…

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Sophie Calle (born 9 October 1953) is a French writer, photographer, installation artist, and conceptual artist. Calle's work is distinguished by its use of arbitrary sets of constraints, and evokes the French literary movement known as Oulipo. Her work frequently depicts human vulnerability, and examines identity and intimacy. She is recognized for her detective-like tendency to follow strangers and investigate their private lives. Her photographic work often includes panels of text of her own writing.

Since 2005, Calle has taught as a professor of film and photography at European Graduate School in Saas-Fee, Switzerland. She has lectured at the University of California, San Diego in the Visual Arts Department. She has also taught at Mills College in Oakland, California.

Exhibitions of Calle's work took place at the Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris; Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg, Russia; Musée d'Art et d'Histoire du Judaïsme, Paris; Paula Cooper Gallery, New York; Palais des Beaux-Arts, Brussels, Belgium; Videobrasil, SESC Pompeia, São Paulo, Brazil; Museum of Modern Art of Bahia, Salvador, Brazil; Whitechapel Gallery, London; and the De Pont Museum of Contemporary Art, Tilburg, Netherlands. She represented France at the Venice Biennale in 2007.

In 2017 she was shortlisted for the Deutsche Börse Photography Prize for her publication My All (Actes Sud, 2016). In 2019 she was the recipient of the Royal Photographic Society's Centenary Medal and Honorary Fellowship.

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Artist page for Sophie Calle (born 1953)

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Installation view of "Bad Girls (Part 1)," 1994, at the New Museum of Contemporary Art, New York.FRED SCRUTON/COURTESY NEW MUSEUM OF CONTEMPORARY ART, NEW YORK

In my new book Curatorial Activism: Towards an Ethics of Curating (Thames & Hudson), I devoted a chapter to exhibitions that have lingered in the historical record for their commitment to "Resisting Masculinism and Sexism." As what constitutes sexual prejudice continues to evolve, it's imperative that curators continually query and challenge the gender norms by which we are all confined. "Trigger: Gender as a Tool and a Weapon," a recent exhibition at the New Museum in New York, did just that-and within a lineage worth revisiting as the present adjusts for oversights of the past.

Though most commonly associated with a notorious run at the New Museum in 1994-in a tradition that would directly influence "Trigger" decades later-the first iteration of a series of shows titled "Bad Girls" was organized separately the year before for the Institute of Contemporary Arts in London (followed by a presentation at the Centre for Contemporary Arts in Glasgow). Curated by Kate Bush, Emma Dexter, and Nicola White, the exhibition celebrated a new spirit of playfulness, tactility, and perverse humor in the work of six British and American women artists: Helen Chadwick, Dorothy Cross, Nicole Eisenman, Rachel Evans, Nan Goldin, and Sue Williams -each of whom was represented by several works.

The term "bad girls" was defined in the London catalogue as "sly, in-your-face, disturbing, provocative, haunting, subtle, sensual, shocking, sexy." The exhibition sought to celebrate the multiplicity of feminisms in the 1990s, undermining tendencies toward the essentialist and didactic voices of early feminist work. "Irreverent, personal, shocking, funny, and fey," the curators explained, the show "dares to attack on two fronts at once: offending proscriptive feminism as well as the reactionary forces of patriarchy." The curators' aim was not to present work in the lineage of 1980s artists such as Cindy Sherman, Barbara Kruger, and Jenny Holzer-whose works, they argued, "put a feminist gloss upon the power and manipulations of the media, movies, and advertising"-but rather to harken back to "the surrealist traditions of Louise Bourgeois and Meret Oppenheim as well as the aggressive camp of Judy Chicago's Dinner Party." It did not purport to be a definitive survey of current trends within feminist art, but rather a "sympathetic grouping" that allowed for "intriguing and provocative correspondences" between the works.

Highlights of the London exhibition included Eisenman's drawing Betty Gets It (1992), which parodies the happy heterosexuality of the characters Betty and Wilma-from the 1960s animated television series The Flintstones-as a lesbian couple, and Williams's A Funny Thing Happened (1992), which depicts a series of rape scenes in stark black acrylic on white canvas with scrawled texts reading, "We don't know if she enjoyed it or not." Also featured were Chadwick's sculpture Glossolalia (1993)-a circular table on which several golden pelts are arranged like a trophy below a cone centerpiece with lapping lambs' tongues cast in glistening bronze-as well as photographic portraits by Goldin of drag queens and those living with AIDS. And then there were images of Amazons castrating pirates (Eisenman), platonic romance (Evans), and surrealist juxtapositions (Cross). In all, it was a selection of powerful works exemplifying what one critic called "the very highest fuck-you-fem Mae West tradition."

The London exhibition received mixed reviews. Brian Sewell, writing in the London Evening Standard, complained that the works on view demonstrated "anti-male prejudice at its silliest and most obsessive-hysterical and violent propaganda utterly contemptible as art." Laura Cottingham, writing in Frieze magazine-but who, ironically, also wrote for the ICA catalogue-was fiercely critical of the exhibition, taking particular issue with the title itself, as did Iwona Blazwick, who noted that it stressed an "infantile, naughty, rebellious posture whereas there was actually a very serious and powerful thrust to a lot of the work in the show." Cottingham argued that the exhibition presented some of "the artistic products of feminism's partial success in the form of an apology, a laugh." The curators, she said, attempted to appeal to "the tritest cliché of male chauvinist charges-that feminists have no sense of humor." The "girlie giggle," she continued, "an unconscious social signifier women deliver as a sign that you (men) need not take us seriously, is put forward as the controlling rhetoric. This 'It's So Funny!' curatorial posture betrays both feminism and art: none of the artists included in this exhibition is either a failed or an aspiring comedian and all are undeservedly trivialized by this mockery."

Others were more forgiving. Ekow Eshun wrote in Elle magazine, for example, that while the images were disturbing and confrontational, they also challenged a history of art in which women are merely passive subjects: "And bleak as their subject matter is, the cumulative effect of the new generation's work is liberating rather than depressing."

Deborah Kass, 4 Barbras (The Jewish Jackie Series), 1992, which appeared in "Bad Girls West," 1994, at the Wight Art Gallery, University of California, Los Angeles.©DEBORAH KASS/COURTESY ARTIST RIGHTS SOCIETY (ARS), NEW YORK

A year later, in 1994, curator Marcia Tucker organized a two-part "Bad Girls" exhibition at the New Museum in New York, and Marcia Tanner curated "Bad Girls West" at the Wight Art Gallery, University of California, Los Angeles, as a "sister exhibition" to Tucker's. Although the two curators inspired and assisted each other, and shared the same catalogue, the two exhibitions were organized independently. Both examined a phenomenon they had observed in the early 1990s: "a new wave of female artists who were using humor (often bawdy, raucous 'unladylike' humor) in their work as a strategy to engage viewers with feminist issues." Tanner explained that what distinguished this new wave from earlier feminist work was its use of humor as a subversive strategy operating outside the bounds of feminine propriety. In both curators' catalogue essays, laughter is presented as "an antidote to being silenced, defined, and objectified," and as these artists' "most transgressive strategy." Tucker's concept for the exhibition called for art that is "funny, really funny," and that goes "too far"; Tanner's was to showcase work that is "irreverent, anti-ideological, non-doctrinaire, non-didactic, un-polemical and thoroughly un-ladylike."

Subversive humor was the connecting force between the more than 100 artists, performers, and filmmakers-women and men-featured in "Bad Girls" and "Bad Girls West." The works ranged from sculptures to wall texts to photographs, and videos to comics, and addressed such issues as marriage, child-rearing, food, genitalia, lesbianism, motherhood, gender identity, role reversal, aging, sex, race, class, and violence. Standouts from the New York presentation included Xenobia Bailey's Sistah Paradise's Revival Tent (1993), a tent of brightly colored, beautifully patterned knitted wool that is part shelter, part headdress, part woman's head, and Renée Cox's larger-than-life photograph Mother and Child (1993), a nude self-portrait of the artist holding her son. Jacqueline Hayden's images of heavyset elderly women in the nude pointed up the obsession with beauty and youth, while Portia Munson's Pink Project: Table (1994), reinforced femininity by way of a large table laden with an orderly, densely packed array of some 2,000 pink objects-from combs, brushes, and hair slides to children's toys, dildos, and a garbage can. The stripper/photographer Cammie Toloui's Lusty Lady Series (1992) presented a slideshow of patrons masturbating, snapped in her place of business, "The Pleasure Palace," which viewers could ogle through a set of peepholes. And Yasumasa Morimura showed Portrait (Futago), 1988, a photographic self-portrait of the artist playing the role of both maid and model in a scrupulously reconstructed image of Edouard Manet's Olympia (1863).

West Coast highlights included Lutz Bacher's 1993 work titled Feminist Movement ("Sure I'm for the feminist movement. In fact, I'm pretty good at it."), which was based on the sensual, large-breasted, and blithely smiling pinups by illustrator Antonio Vargas that appeared in Playboy in the 1960s and 1970s, and Deborah Kass's 4 Barbras (1992), a Warhol spoof with a Jewish twist. Rona Pondick showed a wacky sculpture, titled Double Bed (1989), comprising a mattress, pillows, and dozens of baby bottles, and Sue Williams presented Manly Footwear (1992), which featured a series of squashed-in faces made of silicone rubber, referring to violence against women.

THAMES & HUDSON

The "Bad Girls" exhibitions in the United States drew mixed reactions from critics. Most took aim at the title, arguing that it was "trendy," "angry," "a cheap hook," and that it "eclipsed any real debate around the work." Some claimed that the exhibitions were based on a weak idea and actually trivialized the work of women artists. Others stated that the concept was backward, or like "a byline for a fashion magazine." As Jan Avgikos explained in Artforum, "Once feminist-oriented art has been disparagingly categorized as the work of 'bad girls' it can be laughed off, crated up, and shipped out to sea." She continued, "This curatorial misadventure . . . is particularly egregious, given that the show's organizers happen to be women."

And while some praised the quality of the work on view, others claimed that it was "not 'bad' enough." Benjamin Weissman from Artforum agreed: "The badness is elegant, safe, conventional, and, most important, museum-ready." Roberta Smith of the New York Times was disappointed by Part I of the New York City exhibition. She had hoped for a "reasonably accurate view of the new, angrily ironic feminist art . . . that has been percolating up through the galleries and alternative spaces in the last few years." She argued that this third generation of feminist artists to emerge since the 1970s "built on the attitudes of the photo-appropriation feminists of the 1980s (Barbara Kruger, for example), confidently branching out into painting and sculpture and installation art. It's a good time to assess their efforts and consider the issues they raise." She believed the exhibition fell short of doing so. Yet, a critic from the New York Observer argued that "Bad Girls' satirical sendup of feminism is refreshing . . . excess and outrageousness is the rule." And Elizabeth Hess of the Village Voice declared, "Tucker should be congratulated for staking her territory smack in the middle of current feminist debates."

It is too soon to know how "Trigger: Gender as a Tool and a Weapon," which closed this past January after a four-month run, will be regarded by history, particularly within its lineage of other gender- and identity-probing New Museum shows that included "Bad Girls" as well as "Extended Sensibilities: Homosexual Presence in Contemporary Art" (1982), "Difference: On Representation and Sexuality" (1984-85), and "HOMO VIDEO: Where We Are Now" (1986-87). But it will be intriguing to see how its conception of gender as malleable, variable, and nonconforming comes to age. In the catalogue assembled in advance of the exhibition's run, the show's curator, Johanna Burton, explained that "Trigger" and its devotion to work by trans and queer artists "synthesizes channels that take up the instability of gender and the forms that gender might temporarily coalesce into-or refuse altogether. If there is a shared impulse among the practices included," Burton wrote, "it is toward this idea of the impossible as a space of potential, and a place of other futures."

Adapted from Curatorial Activism: Towards an Ethics of Curating, by Maura Reilly. Text: ©2018 Maura Reilly. Reprinted with permission from Thames & Hudson Inc., www.thamesandhudsonusa.com.
A version of this story originally appeared in the Spring 2018 issue of ARTnews on page 32 under the title "Bad Girls to the Rescue."

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'Bad Girls' to the Rescue: An Exhibition of Feminist Art from the 1990s Has Much to Teach Us Today

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In my new book Curatorial Activism: Towards an Ethics of Curating (Thames & Hudson), I devoted a chapter to exhibitions that have lingered in the historical record for their commitment to "Resisting Masculinism and Sexism." As what constitutes sexual prejudice continues to evolve, it's imperative that curators continually query and challenge the gender norms by which we are all confined.

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Assuming the guise of décor, Jorge Pardo's art, paradoxically, trades in essences rather than objects. It transforms a gallery into a showroom of interior design but, conversely, if it were installed in your apartment, it would carry the art space with it ­- at least notionally - to create a contested ground on which the bric-a-brac of everyday living is liberated from mere functionality.

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Discover the imaginative films of Canadian artist Tamara Henderson in this short film programme

Join us for an evening with Tamara Henderson as she presents the world premiere of Seasons End: Out of Body alongside a selection of previous works. Henderson's films bridge dreams with everyday life in a surprisingly personal and poetic visual language. The films are as itinerant as she is, often shot in multiple locations during the artist's frequent travels. Her works are shot with a handheld 16mm camera and edited in camera to preserve their unconscious and associative qualities. Much of her imagery is drawn from her dreams using various recording methods.

Objects are intuitively and performatively assembled and manipulated throughout the films, which include some of the artist's sculptures among a range of other materials. These choreographies of movement often use hidden ropes and wires to animate objects in a manner akin to puppet theatre. Motifs such as plants, keys, shells and shellfish, fruits, fabric, gloved hands and vessels such as bottles and urns recur throughout these works, often approached in a ritualistic fashion.

Programme

Spirit of Garfield 2012, 16mm, colour, sound, 3 min

Three Pockets di Oggetti, collaboration with Tiziana La Melia, 2013, 16mm, colour, sound, 3 min

Bottles Under the Influence 2012, collaboration with Julia Feyrer, 16mm, colour, sound, 10 min

What's Up Doc? 2014, 16mm, colour, sound, 8 min

Seasons End: Out of Body 2018, 16mm, colour, sound, 26 min

The screening is followed by a discussion with the artist and Q&A.

See more from Tamara Henderson

A sculptural commission by Tamara Henderson is on view in the Virginia Woolf exhibition at Tate St. Ives, until 29 April 2018.

About Tamara Henderson

Tamara Henderson (b.1982, Canada) is an artist working across sculpture, text, installation and 16mm film. She studied at NSCAD University in Halifax and Städelschule in Frankfurt am Main, and holds a Master degree from the Royal Institute of Art in Stockholm. She has exhibited at Glasgow International and documenta 13, and recently staged a performance for the Serpentine Gallery's 2017 Park Nights series. Solo exhibitions include Douglas Hyde Gallery, Dublin (2018); Oakville Galleries (2017); Rodeo Gallery, London (2017); REDCAT, Los Angeles (2016); Moderna Museet, Stockholm (2016; ICA, Philadelphia (2015); and Andrew Kreps Gallery, New York (2014).

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Tamara Henderson: Out of Body - Film at Tate Modern | Tate

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Discover the imaginative films of Canadian artist Tamara Henderson in this short film programme Join us for an evening with Tamara Henderson as she presents the world premiere of Seasons End: Out of Body alongside a selection of previous works. Henderson's films bridge dreams with everyday life in a surprisingly personal and poetic visual language.

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If you have recently ridden on the London Underground escalators, you would have passed several simple white posters inscribed with bold, black text. An authoritative presentation of decidedly muted and fragmented statements, they ranged from the paranoid ('I think I'm being watched'), to the heavily ironic ('Oh boy! What a wonderful city!'), to the mundane ('Off to work 8:15 AM. [Nylon uniform.]'). Anna Barriball's poster campaign acted as a comic strip's thought bubble might, transposing fellow travellers' musings to legible advertisement-style signs. But as a series of inscriptions taken from the back of found photographs, one stands out as particularly representative: 'Looking back the way we had come.' The sentence exists somewhere between the past and the present, paused in the act of examining its own trace, while blatantly denying us access to the view being described. Willfully obstructive, the phrase is, instead, released from its context to become elegiac, self-reflective.

As with the found phrases, Barriball's work hovers between states, playfully bouncing between documentation and transformation, detachment and intimacy. In her recent exhibition at London's Frith Street Gallery, the floor was seemingly scattered with leaves, a serene autumnal scene for a pleasant stroll. Each leaf in Untitled (2008), however, was a piece of cloth cut from the patterns of second hand curtains; countless inane floral draperies and vegetal patterns given a new, theatrical life that was neither natural nor domestic, though still relying on both. Veering between realism and kitschy exaggeration, the installation's use of illustration also highlighted the artist's central concern with the transformative possibilities of drawing, which, for Barriball is not simply the hand applying a series of lines to paper. She employs a wider definition of the medium as a gesture, an act that creates an imprint - and in the act endows an ambiguous autonomy on the imprint itself.

Anna Barriball, Installation View, Frith Street Gallery, 2009.

Barriball's earlier work has focused exclusively on that momentary touch of the imprint - as in her 2002 series of constellation-like drawings that document the impact of a rubber ball covered in graphite powder on paper, each titled simply with an hour, minute and second. Her ongoing set of traced surfaces explores this in more prolonged depth: in each of the 'Mirror Window Wall' (2008) series, four framed silver sheets are arranged to resemble a window frame. The sheets give a muffled sheen, interrupted by bumps and grain occasionally breaking through the paper. Each details a portion of brick wall, its rough contours obsessively traced with a silver pen covering the entire surface. The line of the pen is so thoroughly applied so as to almost erase the evidence of its mark, its fill at once rendering the brick reflective and the 'window' opaque. Sunset / Sunrise V (2008) is a similar tracing of a two-part stained glass window, its semi-circle sun and outgoing rays impressed on the paper by thickly applied pencil. The immediate impact of these works is their dense, confrontational façade, the drab shades then giving way to the intricacies of textures from the original object. These shining walls and impenetrable windows are visual puns that knowingly implode, refusing to act as either their original archetype might, or under the new designation of its correspondent rubbing. It is then, as a potent afterthought, the process that created such a surface is realized as the means through which this object is held in its suspended, permanently unsettled state. The act of drawing continues to perform its nullifying transformation, hiding in plain sight.

Barriball's self-evident, self-effacing work can feel impersonal, but its detachment marks the point at which the artist relinquishes control to whoever wants to experience it. She seems to have progressively traced the outline of an interior, domestic space, having taken the imprint of familiar walls, windows, a door, floorboards; similarly, her video Draw (fireplace) (2005), is a shot of the wind from a chimney repetitively sucking in a sheet of paper placed over a Victorian fireplace, its indrawn breaths pressing its contours to the paper before again breathing out. Gesturing towards an inhabitable space, Barriball consistently circles and pushes at its parameters, only to reinforce this house as determinedly inaccessible. It instead exists as a site that wavers between two and three dimensions, a locus of paradoxes and simultaneities.

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If you have recently ridden on the London Underground escalators, you would have passed several simple white posters inscribed with bold, black text. An authoritative presentation of decidedly muted and fragmented statements, they ranged from the paranoid ('I think I'm being watched'), to the heavily ironic ('Oh boy!

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Ann Veronica Janssens at the South London Gallery

Installation view of Bikes, 2001 and Phosphènes, 1997-2018 (left to right) by Ann Veronica Janssens

Photo: Andy Stagg

Belgian artist Ann Veronica Janssens (b. 1956)  has created an extensive body of work over four decades spanning installations, projections, immersive environments and sculptures. At the core of her practice is an interest in light and its impact on our perception and experience.

This exhibition is the first major presentation of Janssens' work in London.

Janssens' Untitled (Blue Glitter), an expanse of reflective, blue glitter scattered across the floor of the gallery, occupied the Main Space for the first half of the show.

It has now been replaced by Janssens' reflective wheeled Bikes, 2001. Visitors are invited to cycle round the Main Gallery on one of five custom-made bicycles with mirrored wheels, which reflect light on the surrounding gallery walls and floor as the wheels turn.

Across three floors of the Fire Station, sculptures, projections, light works and installations continue Janssens' exploration of perception and ephemerality.

VISITOR INFORMATION REGARDING BIKES

Booking a visit to the SLG does not reserve a timeslot for riding Ann Veronica Janssens' , and you may have to queue

Visitors must use the hand sanitiser provided before riding a bike

Before riding, visitors are required to read and sign an injury waiver

A face mask covering your nose and mouth must be worn at all times

A protective helmet, provided by the SLG, must be worn while riding

Only two bikes will be in use at any one time to ensure social distancing is maintained

Unaccompanied children under the age of 18 are not permitted to ride a bike

Edition

Janssens has created a new edition to accompany Hot Pink Turquoise at the SLG. Click here to visit our online shop for more details.

Catalogue

Click here to visit our online shop to purchase Hot Pink Turquoise, the catalogue accompanying the exhibition.

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Ann Veronica Janssens: Hot Pink Turquoise - South London Gallery

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Belgian artist Ann Veronica Janssens (b. 1956)  has created an extensive body of work over four decades spanning installations, projections, immersive environments and sculptures. At the core of her practice is an interest in light and its impact on our perception and experience. This exhibition is the first major presentation of Janssens' work in London.

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A journey through the ground-breaking works of this quintessential contemporary artist

Bruce Nauman is a restlessly inventive artist. Since the late 1960s he has continually tested what an artwork can be, by reshaping old forms and creating new ones. His ground-breaking works using sound, film, video and neon have influenced generations of artists.

This is the first major exhibition of his work in London in more than 20 years. It allows visitors to engage with the artist's universe through immersive installations with a strong emphasis on sound and moving image, as well as poetic sculptures and neon pieces.

Major works like Double Steel Cage Piece 1974, Anthro/Socio (Rinde Spinning) and Clown Torture 1987 highlights Nauman's distinctive preoccupations and how he incessantly revisits them - yet never repeats himself.
Exhibition organised by Tate Modern and Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam in collaboration with Pirelli HangarBicocca, Milan

Bruce Nauman e 1970 Tate Purchased 1994 © ARS, NY and DACS, London 2020

Bruce Nauman The True Artist Helps the World by Revealing Mystic Truths (Window or Wall Sign) 1967 Kunstmuseum Basel (Basel, Switzwerland) © ARS, NY and DACS, London 2020

Bruce Nauman Manipulating the T-Bar 1965-1966 Courtesy of the Artist © ARS, NY and DACS, London 2020

Explore the exhibition room by room

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Bruce Nauman - Exhibition at Tate Modern | Tate

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A journey through the ground-breaking works of this quintessential contemporary artist Bruce Nauman is a restlessly inventive artist. Since the late 1960s he has continually tested what an artwork can be, by reshaping old forms and creating new ones. His ground-breaking works using sound, film, video and neon have influenced generations of artists.