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Anish Kapoor on myth, meaning and melancholia

British-Indian sculptor Anish Kapoor gets confessional for a new documentary, Under the Skin

'It isn't just what you see, there's a lot of unseen,' says Anish Kapoor in Under the Skin, his new documentary directed by Martina Margaux Cozzi. He is referring to the city of Rome, with its multiple layers of history that reveal themselves upon careful examination, but he could also well be talking about his own artistic output.

Filmed in 2016 as Kapoor prepared for a solo exhibition at the Museo d'Arte Contemporanea Roma (Macro), the documentary has the artist reflecting on diverse themes including physical and psychological space, the role of the viewer, the merits of repetition and ritual, and of course, the colour red ('incredibly alive, while speaking to a darkness that we know about ourselves'). Though pitched as 'a conversation with Anish Kapoor', the questioner's voice is absent throughout. All we hear is Kapoor's unguarded, confessional musings, offering hitherto unseen insights into his creative universe.

The discussion of Rome not only gives geographical context to the documentary, but also segues into the ways in which Kapoor's work responds to the artistic tradition. He discusses the myth of Marsyas, the satyr who challenged Apollo to a musical duel, lost, and was flayed as punishment. The story is famously portrayed in Titian's The Flaying of Marsyas, painted in the 1570s. 'A horrific image, the removal of the skin, the inside becoming the outside,' describes Kapoor. His own takeover of the Tate Modern Turbine Hall in 2003 was similarly titled Marsyas: three giant steel rings joined together by a dark red PVC membrane, 'stretched like a skin'.

Beyond mythological allusions, though, Kapoor prefers to avoid prescriptive readings of his work. He acknowledges that it may be understood as a critique of culture or war, but 'that just ties it up in knots and stifles it. I'd much rather it was work about painting itself'. Of his meat paintings - slabs of protruding resin and silicone that bear a discomforting resemblance to flesh - he says, 'they may be full of red, they may be full of a kind of visceral body thing, there may be melancholia in them, but I don't think they are saying anything about the condition of pain.'

While the documentary only shows Kapoor in his London Studio - there are clips showing protective suit-clad technicians working on sculptures, and intricate preparatory drawings on the walls, suggesting the complexities of production - and surveying the exhibition at Macro, there is an interlude at the Church of Santo Stefano Rotundo in Rome, with views of its 16th century frescoes portraying scenes of martyrdom. 'We are, and I somehow include all of us, religious beings, and religion doesn't necessarily have to be doctrinal. It can also be about a kind of symbolic continuum that life and all its tragedy seems to keep throwing up. And art finds ways of pointing at that,' Kapoor narrates, in an introspective moment that lingers in the viewer's mind long after the documentary is over.

Though only 23 minutes long, the documentary gives a strong measure of the wisdom that has animated Kapoor and made him into one of the preeminent artists of our time. It also makes clear that this elder statesman is far from resting on his laurels. There is plenty of experimentation to come: 'I think I'm a teenager, and I mean that, especially as an artist. I'm willing to try almost everything.' §

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Anish Kapoor on myth, meaning and melancholia

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Anish Kapoor on myth, meaning and melancholia British-Indian sculptor Anish Kapoor gets confessional for a new documentary, Under the Skin 'It isn't just what you see, there's a lot of unseen,' says Anish Kapoor in Under the Skin, his new documentary directed by Martina Margaux Cozzi.

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#kunst #dieren #installatie

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Across human history, there have been examples of people doing utterly terrible things for no other reason than the fact that they can. The Stanford Prison experiment showed that given a little power, a person would easily begin to mistreat peers under their own free will; a public art piece by Marina Abramovich showed that simply giving a gun and instructions to "do as they wish" to random bystanders was enough to make them almost commit murder.

These are just a couple of examples of how easy it is to get regular humans to do awful things, and one museum "experiment" in 2000 took things just as far.

Debuting at the Trapholt Museum, Denmark, an "art" piece called "Helena & El Pascador" by the somewhat-infamous Marco Evaristti presented museum-goers with 10 blenders, filled with water and a single goldfish in each swimming around the blades. The visitors were given a simple choice: press the large "ON" button and kill the fish (for absolutely no reason), or don't touch the button and let the fish live.

The piece was intended to force people to "do battle with their conscience", according to a BBC article.

"It was a protest against what is going on in the world, against this cynicism, this brutality that impregnates the world in which we live," Evaristti continued.

Perhaps if the blenders were unplugged, the piece would have made for an evocative display of morals - however, the blenders were entirely real, and the ON button actually worked.

While most people did not press the button, at least one visitor did and killed two goldfish in a blitz of horrific cruelty.

The blenders were set up with the fish inside. Image credit: TRAPHOLT MUSEUM / MARCO EVARISTTI

Quickly, complaints began pouring in over the fact that the blenders were plugged in, and the police demanded museum owner Peter Meyer to immediately unplug the blenders. Meyer refused, and the police issued a 2,000 kroner ($205 at today's rate) fine. Protesting the fine in the name of "artistic freedom", Mayer did not pay the fine and was dragged into court for animal cruelty.

Shockingly, the court acquitted Meyer for animal cruelty, after veterinary testimonies explained that the fish would have died almost instantly, thus were not exposed to prolonged suffering. Meyer escaped any punishment, including the fine.

Years on, the piece remains a disturbing glimpse into the sadism of some humans, and the fact that cruelty does not necessarily need a reason or justification. Evaristti returned years later with another deeply troubling "art" piece in which he hosted a dinner party featuring meatballs made of his own fat.

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An Artist Placed Goldfish In Blenders And Asked Visitors To Turn Them On - They Did

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Across human history, there have been examples of people doing utterly terrible things for no other reason than the fact that they can. The Stanford Prison experiment showed that given a little power, a person would easily begin to mistreat peers under their own free will; a public art piece by Marina Abramovich showed that simply giving a gun and instructions to "do as they wish" to random bystanders was enough to make them almost commit murder.

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"The classic dichotomy between nature and art is dissolving - artefacts are replaced by biofacts and man is now creating what was classically understood as nature."

- Andreas Greiner, 2017

Interrogating the presence of living animals in art is no easy task. The immediate reaction, myself included, is one of outright rejection and horror. First there are ethical questions raised - isn't this just an intellectualised form of cruelty against animals? At a time when we are seeing circuses and zoos turn away from living animal performances, one would expect the debate to be much the same in the case of art and art institutions. Yet upon further reflection people's anger seems to quell, giving voice to hitherto unanswered theoretical questions on the very nature of (bio)art. Who has authorial power in these situations? How does our reaction change to the 'non-human' when we are confronted with birds, ants, and butterflies in a gallery space? And most importantly, are activists' efforts to inhibit the use of living animals problematic in their censorship of artistic freedom?

Whilst I cannot promise to convince hard-line animal rights advocates that animals can be art, I can aim to showcase why the issue should not be discussed in absolutes. This article urges you to open up to the possibility that each case is dependent on context, and to have faith that artists and institutions alike are sensitive to animal welfare.

The Legalities

There are a few things that must be stated in order to understand the bigger picture of this debate. The use of living animals in art, design and technological research is well-established, but the current spotlight on vegan activism has shifted the public opinion on how animals can be used and abstracted by humans. Increasingly people are actively mindful about their choices and how they have a personal responsibility for the welfare of animals, not just dogs and cats, but farm animals and endangered wild fauna. With this mindset, it may seem like the use of animals in gallery spaces will be labelled as inherently exploitative and problematic. What is often omitted in these arguments is the strict legal protection that animals have. In the United Kingdom for example, the Government Board for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs have put together a comprehensive thirty-page regulation and procedure guide last updated in 2018, which details exactly how and when animals may be used for exhibition purposes. It clearly outlines that each case will be assessed by an animal welfare inspector who assesses the living conditions and health of the animals with attention to species-specific requirements before they are allowed to be exhibited. Similar regulations are in place in the United States under the 1966 Animal Welfare Act, although these only offer protection to certain animals and there are minor differences in how states enforce this law.

On the surface then, it seems that concerns over potential mistreatment are unfounded. Well, it appears that a lot depends on the context of which gallery space houses the live animals and on the measures the institutions take to inform their visitors of the animals' living conditions. When visitors choose to not trust that welfare-laws are being honoured, it is an indication that artists, art institutions and even government bodies need to be more transparent about the specific measures that are taken to protect the animals within an artistic environment. The following case-studies exemplify precisely why we need an open and neutral discussion about animals in art, encouraging hegemonic groups to continue improving meanwhile questioning our own biases.

The Dilemma

Damien Hirst's 2012 installation at the Tate Modern, titled In and Out of Love consisted of butterfly pupae and adult specimens kept in an exhibition space that visitors could enter freely. In a turn of events however, Hirst and the Tate Modern were condemned by RSPCA when figures were released that on a weekly average, 400 of the exhibited butterflies died. At the time a spokesperson from Tate tried to disperse worries by clarifying

"The butterflies lived out the final stage of their natural life cycle inside this room. Approximately 400 butterflies were introduced to the exhibition over the course of each week, with many enjoying longer lifespans than in the wild due to the high quality of this environment."

- Tate Modern representative

Perhaps this statement came too late after the damage had been done, and public opinion was already firmly established. However, I also expect that from the large number of boycotters, only a small minority were lepidopterists (that is a person who studies butterflies). It therefore seems that there is an unfair bias against the Tate Modern at work here, especially when compared to another famous museum institution in London. One of the main attractions of the Natural History Museum is their tropical butterfly house. It could be argued that the Natural History Museum provides better pre-emptive information to visitors about proper butterfly-handling etiquette before entering, but why are we reluctant to believe the same care wasn't taken by the Tate Modern when they housed In and Out of Love? Not to mention that there is no absolute guarantee for the butterflies' safety in the Natural History Museum either.What sets the two institutions apart is that one is advertised as a museum of the natural world, i.e. the butterflies fit into their exhibition-profile, whereas an art gallery is perhaps the last place one would expect to encounter animals. Such strict demarcations and attempts to uphold the museum / gallery duality are nevertheless counterproductive because they are limiting to the creative freedom of artists and institutions alike, inhibiting them to explore the grey-area of human and animal relationships.

When we allow the use of animals in one museum context, we cannot gatekeep art-specialist galleries from doing so too.

What are animals doing in an art gallery?

This interspecific power relation is clearly an interesting idea to explore and many artists are doing so in humane ways. German artist Andreas Greiner views animals as collaborators on his projects. In 2012 he purchased a container of maggots and left them to develop into flies in the gallery space, titled Every Fly is a Piece of Art. His intention was to bring nature into the white-cube gallery, giving back the control to the animals and to nature in a sanitised space dedicated completely to the celebration of human creativity and artistry. Making the visitor confront maggots - animals which are often labelled as ugly and repulsive - in a space where they expect to see visually appealing things is to question the very definition of art and the art gallery space. It is a subversive act because he elevates an undesirable part of nature to the position of art. In doing so, this artwork could prove as the starting point for a conversation about honouring the existence of creatures who are often side-lined even by animal rights activists, thereby expanding the scope of the animal rights movement.

Of course, not all attempts work as effectively. Navin Thomas is an Indian artist whose work aims to uncover the effect of artificial sound either generated or broadcasted electronically on insects, birds and humans. As part of this series in 2012, he used pigeons for a sound installation piece. The birds were kept in an empty room where they could only sit on the ground or land on a copper wire perch that was connected to a giant antenna. When the pigeons made contact with the wire, the room would become awash with radio chatter and white noise sometimes audible to the human ear and sometimes only detected by the birds. This would make them fly up until they got too tired and had to sit down again, at which point the cycle restarted. It comes as no surprise to anyone that this is detrimental to the pigeon's auditory health and is bordering on animal cruelty - in fact, Thomas was directly violating the laws of the Animal Welfare Board of India by not seeking permission to use live animals and not getting an evaluation on their living conditions as part of the installation. Luckily, such obvious mistreatment seems to be the exception and not the rule. With the gallery-going public becoming more educated on issues of animal rights, and institutions' willingness to respond to criticism, there hopefully won't be a repeat of this error.

Intriguingly for the continued exploration of what drives vehement negative responses from the public is the observation that the biggest uproar almost always surrounds animals that can be considered conventionally cute. There were no complaints regarding the maggot's welfare in Greiner's work, nor was there an outpouring of hate for Elizabeth Demaray's Corpor Esurit, or We All Deserve a Break Today exhibited in 2013. In this installation, Demaray moved a population of ants into the gallery, where they lived in a glass tank. They were fed fast food from McDonald's for the duration of one month, allowing visitors to see into the private world of the ant colony, especially how they navigate their lives around this food source. The artwork considers the impact of the industrial food sources on us humans too, since ants are often dependent on us and our modes of food production for sustenance. Visitors were encouraged to participate in observing the ant's foraging behaviour by drawing diagrams. The work was further building on the complex connection of ants and humans, acting as a tool for scientific education as well as an installation to be visually appreciated. Demaray issued a disclaimer alongside the installation to state that

the ants, in the Corpor Esurit installation came from a commercial ant farm supplier. During the exhibition they tunnelled, foraged and made good food choices. The life span of the ants in the installation's habitat was carefully measured and was, on average, longer than that of ants in a commercial ant farm.

Perhaps beyond a lack of emotional bonding with ants from the visitors, it was also her transparency which stopped potential outcries of animal abuse. If that is the case, this is an example to be followed by all artists who wish to exhibit animals in the future.

The Dilemma - Revisited

The bottom line is that living animals are already being used in art, for the most part in a way that honours their welfare and abides to local legislation. Trying to ban artists from using living animals in their works is not only problematic because it limits their creative freedom, but it also disregards the larger function of these works as educational tools or aids to scientific research. Prohibiting these types of artworks would directly imply that artists do not have a place in social and scientific advancement, that their works cannot function in culturally significant ways, and they should not make the viewer confront fundamental ethical questions. In short, that definition of art would only constitute a backdrop of visually appealing objects. Has this made you think about why an outright rejection of the debate is a dangerous position to take?

Of course, installation using animals must continue to be assessed by the relevant government body on a case-by-case basis. Starting an open and objective dialogue moves us ever closer to a future in which artists can continue to freely chart the animal-human relationship in a way that is safe for each participant and respects the animal, rather than exploit it. In fact, it is vital that there is a neutral and transparent platform which not only works to regulate art institutions but brings specialists, professionals and animal rights activists to join the conversation with legislators. Whatever your position is, the discussion starts now and it starts with you.
If you're interested in animals in art, read our article 'Why is art the place to imagine chimeras and human-animal hybrids?'

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Animals in Art: Where to draw the line with 'living art'? - Unbore

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A lot of attention has been devoted to the discussion of animals' rights over the years, and especially since the rise of vegan activism. It is a debate that is being addressed increasingly by artists and galleries, sometimes amidst backlash and other times deemed acceptable. Who decides what is eth

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#kunstenaar #natuur #installatie #klimaat #opwarming #licht #bomen

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Awareness artist creating award winning interactive installations about Climate change, ocean plastic, pollution and nature in a sustainable way.

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#kunst #kunstenaar #installatie #herhaling #vergankelijkheid #machine

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memory ware sculpture artist artwork moma ps1 mobile homestead drawing ahh youth stuffed animal hauser and wirth

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art earth room land chichu art museum mile long drawing timeless cross early work environmental

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cheval horse art orienté objet the horse live benoît mangin getty images artiste avocat jeantet

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#kunstenaar #ai

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#Kunstenaar #installatie #keuken #draaien #machine #vergankelijkheid #kapot

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Zeger Reyers - Rotating Kitchen - exhibition Eat Art, Kunsthalle, Düsseldorf

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Zeger Reyers, Works, Portfolio, Information

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#kunstenaar #ai

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Work - Memo Akten | Mehmet Selim Akten | The Mega Super Awesome Visuals Company

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© Copyright 2018. All Rights Reserved. Memo Akten | The Mega Super Awesome Visuals Company | MSA Visuals Ltd.

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[NL] De tekening van dan
April 2020 - Sven Schlijper-Karssenberg, kunstverzamelaar

Wat zie je voor je als je aan tekenen denkt? Papier, pen, misschien een potlood of een pot inkt. Je ziet vast geen flightcase voor je, met daarin een apparaat. Wanneer de Radical Drawing Device (RDD) tevoorschijn komt, lijkt het een complexe, maar tegelijkertijd opvallend eenduidige machine: een chromen 'kooi' met klemmen om deze te fixeren, een motor en een rails waarlangs een pen kan bewegen. De RDD is een autonome automaat bovendien, die de indruk wekt: "rustig maar... relax, ik kan het zelf wel aan". De RDD kanaliseert kunstmatig artistieke intelligentie in een strak-helder design.

Maar de RDD is geen kille machine: ze treedt vanaf het moment dat ze tijdens een publieke performance uit de flightcase tevoorschijn wordt gehaald in dialoog met haar omgeving. Dat gesprek kent vele gezichten: van intens persoonlijk en intiem tot afstandelijk. Niet een vel papier, maar de kunstenaar is het canvas waarop de RDD tekent. Je ziet de pen en weet dat je gezien de naam radicaal tekenwerk kan verwachten van de RDD. Maar hoe wordt hiermee getekend? Wat tekent, en wat betekent dat? Deze basale aspecten van het tekenen bevraagt Jorrit Paaijmans met zijn RDD; ze liggen verankerd in de RDD.

De klemmen worden gesloten en de RDD zit vast om de arm van de kunstenaar. Het chroom glinstert. De pen blijkt een tatoeëernaald te zijn. Het fijne mechaniek van de RDD zet de naald in beweging; ze beweegt op en neer, diep in de huid. Verbijsterde en gebiologeerde blikken van toeschouwers alom. Op menselijke maat gemaakt, trekt de RDD met machinale ongevoeligheid een rechte lijn. De tatoeëernaald kent geen twijfel en gaat voort. De RDD tekent en betekent voor je oog - mechanisch en onuitwisbaar. De schoonheid ervan zit in het streven naar perfectie. Het afstellen, bijstellen, en herstellen van een machine die losgelaten kan worden en dan doet wat ze kan doen, wat ze moet doen.

Die ene lijn die voor altijd staat, werd nog verrassend snel gezet. Wat voorafging aan die lijn, ligt nu in zwarte inkt besloten en bestorven onder de huid. Hierin vangt Paaijmans - zoals kenmerkend is voor zijn werk - de filosofie van de tekenende mens, de getrokken lijn en de betekenis van mark makingals een centraal conversation piece. De lijn in het lijf, meegedragen voor altijd, is duidelijk gemarkeerd in visuele zin, maar kent een voorgeschiedenis en toekomst die veel minder helder vastgesteld kunnen worden. De huid is de plek van de uitwisseling van gedachte en uitvoering; theorie en praktijk. In het lichaam wordt de RDD-tekening als ademhalen, een sine qua non voor het dragende lichaam - zoals het papier dat bestaansrecht krijgt door de potloodtekening die erop wordt gezet.

Het kunstenaarschap van Paaijmans radicaliseert de wereld van het tekenen van binnenuit. Tekenaar, tekening en drager vormen een gesloten maar dynamische driehoeksverhouding - ook tussen dimensionele en fysieke of symbolische aspecten. De tekening is met de RDD meer, veel meer, dan een tekening alleen. De lijn herinnert aan een veelheid aan tekenende en betekenisvolle handelingen van de kunstenaar. Het publiek ziet slechts een deel. Misschien is de RDD in de toekomst verroest en vastgelopen. Misschien hebben we dan alleen de documentaire video of foto's nog. De lijn blijft, maar de lijn is niet het kunstwerk. En de RDD ook niet. Dat ligt elders. Misschien wel zoals Roni Horn zegt in gesprek met Theodora Vischer: "Niet zo overduidelijk of confronterend als een weerspiegeling, maar als een dubbeling, in de zin van een restant dat het verleden van het ding in herinnering roept en tegelijk het heden ervan actualiseert."

De wereld en tijd voor de performance met de RDD, vóór het trekken van de lijn en die erna, vormen gezamenlijk het werk, zoals andere werken van Paaijmans niet gaan om de getoonde afbeelding, maar om het mechaniek waarmee ze worden opgehangen. En zoals het in het geval van zijn tekenmachines niet gaat om de lijn die door de machine voor je ogen getrokken wordt, maar om alles wat ervoor nodig is geweest om deze machine from scratch(an sich al: mark making) te bouwen. De machines en constructies van Paaijmans bevragen ook de tekening als markering in de tijd. Als je een bepaalde tijd doorbrengt bij een van zijn tekenmachines zie je een tekening die er al was voor je ogen veranderen. En je weet dat dat proces doorgaat.

Waar vallen die contingente afwegingen samen met die van de kunstenaar, en waar divergeren die juist van hem? Paaijmans noch zijn machines kiezen. En precies daar vindt Paaijmans nieuwe betekenis en plaats voor de tekening in onze tijd. Hij vindt de locus van het tekenen in de spanningsvolle speelruimte tussen maker en machine, de maker van de machine, en de machine als tekenaar. Het is maker noch machine die de tekenkeuzes maakt, maar het is wel Paaijmans die de voorwaarden schept. Die voorwaardelijke, inhoudelijke ruimte vol spanning maakt die ene lijn evenzeer voor altijd als maar een 'even'. Dat 'even' is bovendien zowel rechtlijnig als onbepaald. Elke lijn - en zeker deze ene lijn - is daarmee tegelijkertijd zichzelf en het spoor van zichzelf; een teken van zichzelf, van tijd en van het tekenen. Het is ook een lijn die samenvalt met de drager en het publiek; een lijn die betekenis achterlaat met myriaden gedachten voorwaarts, als souvenirs van de toekomst; als een tekening van dan.

[ENG] The drawing from then
April 2020 - Sven Schlijper-Karssenberg, artcollector

What do you see when you think of drawing? A piece of paper, a pen, perhaps a pencil or an ink bottle. You probably don't imagine a flight case containing a device. When the Radical Drawing Device (RDD) is taken out of its box, it appears to be a complex, yet clearly purpose-built device: a chrome 'cage' with clamps to attach it, a motor, and rails that guide a pen. Moreover, the RDD is an autonomous machine that radiates the sentiment: 'calm down... relax, I can handle it myself'. With its sleek, streamlined design, the RDD impersonates artistic intelligence in an artificial way.

However, the RDD is not a cold-blooded contraption: when it is taken out of the flight case during a public performance, it immediately enters into dialogue with its environment. This conversation has many facets: from intensely personal and intimate to distant. It's not a piece of paper, but the artist himself that is the canvas on which the RDD will draw. You see the pen, and, given the RDD's name, you can expect a radical act of drawing. But just exactly how does it draw? What draws, and what does that mean? Jorrit Paaijmans questions the core elements of drawing with his RDD; they are anchored in the RDD.

Clamps are used to attach the RDD to the artist's arm. The chrome shimmers. The pen turns out to be a tattoo needle. The precise mechanism of the RDD sets the needle in motion; it moves up and down, penetrating the skin. The viewers look on, bewildered and mesmerised. Designed to human proportions, the RDD draws a straight line with mechanical detachment. The tattoo needle never wavers and draws continuously. Before your very eyes, the RDD scribes and ascribes meaning, both mechanically and indelibly. Its beauty lies in the pursuit of perfection. The machine is constantly being adjusted, fine tuned and maintained to ultimately be unleashed to do what it can do, what it has to do.

For a line that would last forever, it was drawnsurprisingly quickly. In the blink of an eye, all that preceded the line is captured and sealed under the skin in black ink. As is characteristic of his work, Paaijmans touches upon the philosophy of the drawing human, the drawn line, and the meaning of mark-making as a central conversation piece. The permanently embodied line, so clearly defined visually, has a history and future that are much less clear. The skin is the place of exchange between idea and execution, between theory and practice. For the body, the RDD drawing is like breathing, a sine qua nonfor the host - like a piece of paper whose only raison d'être is the image that is drawn on it .

With his artistic practice, Paaijmans radicalises the world of drawing from within. Draftsman, drawing and carrier form a closed but dynamic triangular relationship, also between dimensional, physical and symbolic aspects. With the RDD, the drawing is more, much more, than merely a drawing. The line recalls a multitude of illustrative and meaningful acts by the artist. The audience only sees part of it. Perhaps in the future the RDD itself will be rusty and jammed. Perhaps the documentary video or photos will survive.The line will remain, but the line is not the artwork. Nor is the RDD. It is something else. Perhaps as Roni Horn says in conversation with Theodora Vischer: 'Not as obvious or confrontational as a reflection but a double in the sense of a trace that recalls the past of the thing at the same as manifesting its present.'

The world and time before the RDD performance, before the line was drawn, and the time thereafter, collectively form the artwork. It displays similarities with other works by Paaijmans that are not about the image, but about their mechanism. In the case of the drawing machine, the line it draws in front of your eyes is not the core of the work; the core lies in everything it took to build the machine from scratch. Paaijmans' machines and constructions also question drawing as a mark in time. If you spend some time with one of his drawing machines, you will see an existing drawing change in front of your eyes. And you know that process will continue endlessly.

Where do these contingent considerations coincide with those of the artist, and where do they diverge? Neither Paaijmans nor his machines choose. It is precisely here that Paaijmans finds a new meaning and a new place for the concept of drawing today. He finds the locus of drawing in the exciting and playful tension between maker and machine, the maker of the machine, and the machine as a draftsman. It is neither the maker nor the machine that makes the choices, but it is Paaijmans who creates the conditions. That conditional, substantive space full of tension makes that one line as permanent as much it makes it ephemeral: a blink of an eye that is straightforward and undefined. Each line - and certainly this particular line - is therefore itself and the trace of itself at the same time, a trace of itself, of time and of drawing. It is also a line that coincides with the artist and his audience; a line that leaves meaning behind with myriads of forward-projecting thoughts, as souvenirs of the future: as a drawing from 'then'.

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Performance Radical Drawing Device | Drawing installation | mechanics-electronics | 2019 [NL] De tekening van dan April 2020 - Sven...

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This is the official website of STELARC. Stelarc is a performance artist who has visually probed and acoustically amplified his body. Between 1976-1988 he completed 25 body suspension performances with hooks into his skin. He has used medical instruments, prosthetics, robotics, Virtual Reality systems, the Internet and biotechnology to explore alternate, intimate and involuntary interfaces with the body.

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pindakaasvloer peanut butter ronald snijders art kunstenaar voice actor theodoor schippers dutch artist kunst toneelstuk

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disembodied cuisine victimless leather jacket artisttalk worry dolls life

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#kunst #bio #tech

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"'Feeling in' is an apt way to describe the type of empathy that occurs when one comes into contact with Spore 1.1. This empathy is at once tied to nature, to objects, and to other human minds. The artwork provides an access point to a whole network of relations - indeed, it not only acts as a portal for thinking about such relations but embodies them. Spore 1.1, considered as one plant, does all the normal things that a plant does, but it is tied to a larger commercial system and expresses, in the material bloom and demise of its living parts, the vagaries of the stock market and the larger system of consumption that drives it."

-Elizabeth Swanson in Animal, Vegetable, Digital: Experiments in New Media Aesthetics and Environmental Poetics, University of Alabama Press

Spore 1.1 was previously exhibited at: USF Contemporary Art Museum, VIDA 7.0 (1st Prize),SIGGRAPH 2005 / Emerging Technologies, International Art Fair, ARCO, Madrid, Leonardo II Exhibition, ACM (Association for Computing Machinery), SIGCHI, ACM (Association for Computing Machinery) Nicograph International, The Society for Art and Science, Seoul, South Korea, Art and Artificial Life Retrospective: VIDA, (In)Habitation, Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit, Human + , Science Gallery, Dublin.
Back to Cloudburst: The Work of Matt Kenyon

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Kenyon - Spore 1.1 - Baton Rouge Gallery | Since 1966

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"'Feeling in' is an apt way to describe the type of empathy that occurs when one comes into contact with Spore 1.1. This empathy is at once tied to nature, to objects, and to other human minds.

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Running the Microwave Pyrolysis Reactor (Turning Plastic into Fuel!)

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social art

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Dries Depoorter creates artworks about surveillance, privacy, social media and machine learning. Dries is based in Ghent, Belgium

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installation art

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tarek atui artistic director chantal crousel artist tarek attoui whisperers atoui waters witness art the whisperers atoui artist

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machine art, installation art

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#kunst #installatie

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國府理は1970年京都府生まれ。自動車や自転車、パラボラアンテナなどの工業製品を用い、自然と人工のコントラストや、エネルギーの循環を可視化するような作品を制作していたが、2014年、展示作品の点検中の事故により44歳で逝去した。

《水中エンジン》（2012）は、國府が愛用していた軽トラックのエンジンを水中に沈めて稼働させるという作品で、東日本大震災による原発事故をきっかけに制作されたもの。熱源を水で冷却しながら稼働するという原子力発電所と同じ構造を持つこの作品を、國府は会場で自らメンテナンスを続けながら展示し、冷やし続けなければ暴走してしまうエネルギーの存在と、それを維持するシステムの脆さを浮かび上がらせた。

《水中エンジン》の再制作は、インディペンデント・キュレーターの遠藤水城を中心としたプロジェクトメンバーにより進められており、今回、オリジナルの作品が初めて展示された京都・アートスペース虹で再び展示が行われる。作品を忠実に再現する通常の「再制作」とは異なり、本展は、この作品の「脆い」状態を再現するものになるという。

会期中には、遠藤が聞き手となり、美術評論家の椹木野衣や批評家の浅田彰をゲストに迎えたトークイベントも開催される。

Information

國府理 水中エンジン redux

会期：前期 2017年7月4日〜16日　後期 2017年7月18日〜30日　※前期・後期で展示内容の大幅な変更あり
会場：アートスペース虹
住所：京都市東山区東町247-2
電話番号：075-761-9238
営業時間：11:00〜19:00　※7月16日、30日のみ〜18:00
定休日：月
國府理「水中エンジン」再制作プロジェクト実行委員会：遠藤水城（インディペンデント・キュレーター）、白石晃一（アーティスト）、高嶋慈（批評家）、はがみちこ（アート・メディエーター）、ヤノベケンジ（アーティスト）

編集部

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國府理《水中エンジン》が伝える現代社会の「脆さ」。遠藤水城らによる再制作版が公開

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2014年に事故により逝去したアーティスト・國府理が、東日本大震災による原発事故に影響を受けて制作した作品《水中エンジン》がインディペンデント・キュレーターの遠藤水城らにより再制作...

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#staal #mechaniek #installatie

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Arthur Ganson, kinetic sculptor, inventor, musician

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Homepage for Arthur Ganson- kinetic sculptor, inventor, musician

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#controversieel #installatie

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"Limits" is a relative term. Like beauty, it is often in the eye of the beholder.
-Chris Burden

From his action-based works of the 1970s to the jaw-dropping technical feats of his later sculptures, Chris Burden (1946-2015) consistently challenged his mental and physical limitations, reflecting on the surreal and precarious realities of contemporary life. Burden was a radical and uncompromising figure with a fierce political consciousness.

Burden earned his MFA in 1971 from the University of California, Irvine, where he studied under the conceptual artist Robert Irwin. Like Irwin-whose site-specific architectural interventions consider the effects of space and light on the viewer-Burden was interested in the staging of spectacle and the ways in which art could complicate one's understanding of the material world. In his early performances Burden responded to the violent realities of the Vietnam War by putting his body at risk. For Five Day Locker Piece (1971), he locked himself into a school locker, drinking water from a five-gallon bottle stored in the locker above and urinating into a five-gallon bottle in the locker below. That same year, for Shoot, Burden's friend shot him in the left arm from a distance of fifteen feet. The piece, which lasted only about eight seconds, was recorded on Super-8 film.

In the late 1970s Burden turned to monumental sculpture, considering how the scale and placement of public infrastructure could be manipulated in order to explore the implications of power, speed, and balance. In 1979 he created The Big Wheel, a kinetic work composed of a 1968 Benelli motorcycle placed on a wooden frame and attached to a nineteenth-century metal flywheel. When the bike is mounted and revved, the flywheel is set into motion.

This industrial thrill continued in the 1980s and 1990s with Beam Drop (1984/2008)-a work that involved dropping I beams from a crane into a large pit of wet concrete-and Medusa's Head (1990), an amorphous mass of wood, steel, cement, rock, and model railroad trains and tracks, evocative of a country-sized chunk of earth that has been extracted and squished into a ball. Beam Drop was re-created in 2008 at the Inhotim Institute in Brazil, where its final, sculptural product is now permanently installed, while Medusa's Head is held in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art, New York.

In 2000 Burden began collecting street lamps from the 1920s and 1930s, once used in residential neighborhoods of Los Angeles, and repurposing them as sculptural installations. This led to his celebrated permanent installation Urban Light (2008), comprising 202 lampposts, at the entrance to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Starting in 2003, Burden also constructed large-scale models of bridges-both real and imagined-with thousands of toy construction parts. Tower of London Bridge (2003) mimics every aspect of the famous bridge's suspension design, including the functional drawbridge, and Three Arch Dry Stack Bridge, 1/4 Scale (2013)-first exhibited in Extreme Measures (2013-14),a major survey of Burden's work at the New Museum in New York-comprises three elegant arches made of hand-cast concrete blocks held together by gravity.

Burden's last completed work, Ode to Santos Dumont (2015), is a kinetic airship modeled after Alberto Santos-Dumont's 1901 dirigible that flew around the Eiffel Tower. Built over a ten-year period, it achieves indoor flight in fifteen-minute intervals and simultaneously embodies both ambitions of industrial invention and reveries of childhood marvels.

Burden was the first artist to be represented by Larry Gagosian, beginning in 1978.

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Learn about the work and career of artist Chris Burden. Artworks, biography, exhibitions, editorial content, news, museum exhibitions, press, and more.

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#robot #machine

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Welcome back to Instagram. Sign in to check out what your friends, family & interests have been capturing & sharing around the world.

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Mark Pauline and Survival Research Laboratories

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Mark Pauline and Survival Research Laboratories

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#robot #machine

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The Art Newspaper - International art news and events

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For four decades, Mark Pauline has turned robotics into a performance art. In 1978, the Bay Area artist started Survival Research Laboratories (SRL), a collaborative project with the stated purpose of "re-directing the techniques, tools, and tenets of industry, science, and the military away from their typical manifestations in practicality, product or warfare". Since then, Pauline and a team of "creative technicians" have been building an army of massive machines-the giant articulated Spine Robot that gingerly picks up objects with its mechanised arm, the dangerously powerful Pitching Machine that can hurl a 2 x 4 at 200mph, and of course Mr Satan, a blast furnace with a human face that shoots flames from its eyes and mouth. These are used in performances that inspire equal parts awe, excitement and fear. Pauline and the SRL team are in New York this week for their first major gallery show at Marlborough Contemporary, Fantasies of Negative Acceleration Characterized by Sacrifices of a Non-Consensual Nature, opening on Saturday 6 January, with performances starting at 4pm. We spoke to the artist from his studio in Petaluma.
The Art Newspaper: These machines are meant to have their own life, they're independent actors in a way?
Mark Pauline: Actually, they're just meant to replace human performers in the events that we stage. They're good at that. I've been able to design shows and come up with ideas for machines that somehow people have accepted over the years as being capable of generating live performances, as opposed to them just being sculptures. So it's too late for people to decide that's not true. It's been 40 years since we started SLR.

We're going to be doing some fun stuff for the opening. I have always been fascinated with the whole right and left wing. With progressives, it's more about an accelerated world where things change quickly, and the reactionaries are people who are trying to stop change. So it's "negative acceleration".

I thought it might be fun to physically represent that concept with SRL machines. There will basically be the Pitching Machine shooting boards into a box that's heavily armored and with very thick bulletproof glass. It will be sacrificing small robots and obliterating them.

As an artist, it's more exciting to think of yourself working in a super right-wing dictatorship where you can't say anything directly and everything has to be implied. Like in the old Soviet Union. I decided to pretend it's really dangerous-I mean, at least it's not yet. We are still in a place where you don't have to worry about that [in the US]. I think it's more fun to make implicit statements. So the theme of the show is in keeping with that. I'm not out there saying anything direct, but I think the message is clear that I am on the side of acceleration.
There is a certain point where you can't really get in the way of progress, can you? You're either going to join or be left behind.
You can get in the way in the sense of, you can stand in front of the train. Something will happen, but will that be what you intended?

The subtitle of the show is "characterized by sacrifices of a nonconsensual nature". I always try to make the titles for the shows real artsy, but also representative of a public consciousness, what people are thinking about. It seems like people are thinking a lot about nonconsensual things and about a fear of going backwards. So in the show, we are able to physically represent these ideas in a very emphatic format, because we have all of this equipment.

The SLR performances are sort of a series of sight gags. This is a smaller production, but there will be some stuff happening out in the street in front of the gallery, which is another variation on the theme of sacrifice.

Spine Robot in a performance in San Francisco Courtesy of Survival Research Laboratories

Is it true that this the first time that these kinds of works are being presented in a gallery setting?
Well, it is basically true. We've shown little bits and pieces in San Francisco. But that was just for a couple of days. That wasn't a five-week run at a major gallery. That was more of a pop-up kind of thing, and it was also connected with a performance in the city. This is on another level. Galleries where you might potentially be able to sell a piece of equipment or a piece of art like this, they don't really exist in San Francisco. That's probably why people like me and other artists have developed more ad hoc approaches to exhibiting their work.
Are you hoping that the machines will sell here in New York?
It's a beautiful thought. I have 11,000 square feet of warehouse space, and it's completely full of robots and machines that I've built here and that have been made here. So, yeah, I wouldn't mind-I mean, just from a purely practical standpoint of space, because we essentially have a modern factory here, with all the computer-controlled equipment and design software, we can produce these things really quickly here-I would like to have more room, and I would like not to have to do any work other than this work.
What other work do you do?
I've always funded SRL myself, personally. I don't have a trust fund or any other means of income other than working. So I've just figured out ways-I mean, the flows of capital are so extreme that even someone like me, who is an art weirdo, a marginal character, can get arbitrary amounts of money.

I ended up becoming a kind of go-to person in the Bay Area for companies that have excess assets, which means high tech companies are shutting down labs, and they need somebody who can come in and knows what all the equipment is and can purchase it and repair it and then put it back on the market and not scrap it.

That's become a very popular way of doing business with your excess equipment, when you don't need it anymore, but you want to get it off your books for one reason or another. Sometimes I just buy entire businesses. I'm the guy that, if you see me walking in the door of your company, you know basically it's over.
You're like a secondary market dealer, almost, for technology.
Yeah, kind of. The problem that those companies have when they tried to do that is that there is no one really-I call it the beige box syndrome-no one really knows what anything is except for the scientists who were using. But I have educated myself, and I'm pretty good with technology, and I have a good memory. I can read manuals. I think that's the important thing these days if you're doing anything technical, if you can read manuals and you can read scientific papers, you are pretty much good to go.

The Pitching Machine (1999) Courtesy of Survival Research Laboratories

What other projects are you working on now?
There is one particular machine that I will be working on after we install the show and come back to San Francisco. It's based on technology that is used in a few of the modern fighter jets, like F35s. It's a type of combustion device that we are employing in this very small but very powerful flamethrower. I read about these new fuel vaporising models that were used in the F35, and I said: "Well, I've got to get some of those." They're very hard to get, because they are regulated technology. You're not allowed to buy it. It's considered a weapon of mass destruction. You have to sign pages and pages of documents. The companies can't actually sell them to you, they basically give them to you because they're not for sale.

The concern is that I guess the Russians or the Chinese could use the technology to create more efficient Tiger jet engines or cruise missile engines. It's very advanced fuel spray technology. I have an agreement with the company and the government that if someone came over here, I'd have to show them where all of the dozen nozzles that I have are. If I leave the country, I have to get a permit to leave the country with them. If I transfer ownership, I have to get a permit to transfer ownership, and that responsibility goes to the next person down the line.

The idea is to create a very hot and very large flame. The perfect flame does no work except create heat and light. The flame in your car engine is doing work. The idea here is to have a flame that does absolutely no work and is as hot as possible and very clean burning and very intense-it's hot enough to melt steel. And that's mounted on a very large industrial robot that can swing it around.

There's a whole vignette that's connected with that machine, where we have a large prop that is going to be incinerated by this flamethrower. We are going to do it underneath some of the monuments in San Francisco, like Coit Tower, at night, and I'm going to print out postcards. Since I moved here, I have always wanted to have art in those postcard stands that are all over San Francisco, like at Pier 39.

We will probably do one under the Golden gate Bridge, with the bridge in the background. That's a long-standing goal of mine here at SRL, to do something that could be distributed as a postcard. I don't know if the stores will accept them, but I bet they will.

Mark Pauline with the Spine Robot (2014) Courtesy of Survival Research Laboratories

I have a bunch of other ideas-but I'm a firm believer in restraining creativity. Obviously there are people like Jeff Koons and most of those big-time artists. They get an idea and they build some little toy in a factory facility, and then they say, "I want some more of these carved out of gray granite, like 30 feet tall." And that's the last they think about it. Then they go off and spend the money that they make selling that stuff and just kind of come up with another toy or idea.

My feeling is that if you wrap up your work with all this technology, you actually have to know how to operate it. It puts the proper restraint on creative thinking. It's not good to just sit there and think about all the things you're going to do someday because you're probably not going to get many of them done unless you're a zillionaire. But I do have a whole string of future projects lined up. I mean, I probably have a dozen things that I have planned in the future, so I would like to make all of this things. It is easy to think up stuff. That's not the problem.

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Robot wars: Mark Pauline and Survival Research Laboratories

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The Bay Area artist and his team build massive machines that act in dangerous performances-and they are opening their first gallery show in New York

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#fotograaf #fabriek #geometrie

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Melting Point, Stéphane Couturier's photography

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The photographs depicting the Toyota assembly plant can be distinguished in many respects from previous works that Stéphane Couturier has carried out on urban work sites.

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#fotograaf #dieren

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Jo-Anne McArthur Photography | Award-winning photographer, author, and speaker

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#kunst #installatie #bioindustrie

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#kunst #installatie #dystopie #wonen #industrieel

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#kunstenaar #archeologie

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Mark Dion Exhibitions: Concerning Nature, Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, New York, September 6 - October 13, 2023; Mark Dion and Alexis Rockman: Journey to Nature's Underworld, The Bruce Museum, Greenwich, CT, June 24 - August 27, 2023; Mark Dion: Theater of Extinction, Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, Los Angeles, April 9 - May...

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#foto #fotografie #photography https://www.flickr.com/photos/stevenbley/

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#duister #kunst #installatie

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stedelijk museum amsterdam anne imhof - Google Search

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#beeldhouwen #sculpture #klei #kunst #schaal

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Small Room with Three Dead Birds and Falling Dictionary

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#urbex #verlaten #abandoned

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Men zegt wel eens gekscherend dat er in Wallonië niets moois te vinden is, maar toch kom je af en toe nog wat (vergane) glorie tegen. Zoals dit autokerkhof in Châtillon.

Het onofficiële verhaal gaat als volgt: alle 500+ auto's waren van Amerikaanse militairen die er tijdens de Tweede Wereldoorlog gelegerd waren. Zij gingen na de oorlog weer terug, maar lieten hun wagens achter, omdat het verschepen te duur was. Dat klinkt mooi, maar het is de vraag of het de waarheid is. België was bijna de gehele oorlog bezet, dus dan is het misschien wat lastig om er troepen van 'de vijand' te stationeren. Vanaf eind '44 was dit wel mogelijk.

Het zou kunnen dat het wel troepen waren die later gestationeerd werden, en dit verklaart dan meteen de aanwezigheid van modellen uit de jaren '50 en '60. Oorspronkelijk waren er vier autokerkhoven, inmiddels zijn dit er twee. Is iemand van jullie hier wel eens geweest?

Aan legendarische oude meuk geen gebrek de laatste tijd, binnenkort worden er in Myanmar ook al 36 oude begraven Britse Spitfires uit de grond gehaald. Meer vergane glorie? Check dan deze oude Alpines, en natuurlijk onze Barnfind-tag.
Met dank aan iedereen voor de tips! Foto credits: diverse Flickr-users, via Amusing Planet. Meer materiaal via Anshitshu, ExclusivePix en Behance.

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Autokerkhof in de Ardennen is spookachtig mooi

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Men zegt wel eens gekscherend dat er in Wallonië niets moois te vinden is, maar toch kom je af en toe nog wat (vergane) glorie tegen. Zoals dit autokerkhof in Châtillon. Het onofficiële verhaal gaat als volgt: alle 500+ auto's waren van Amerikaanse militairen die er tijdens de Tweede Wereldoorlog gelegerd waren.

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#kunst #installatie

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edward kienholz hoerengracht - Google Search

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#artikel #slachthuis

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Recollecting the Slaughterhouse | Dorothee Brantz

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#kunstenaar #fabriek #machine #machinesmakeart

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Products Stack - A-N-D decorative luminaire design studio and manufacturer in Vancouver, Canada

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A-N-D investigates new design possibilities using innovative production methods while integrating the most current technologies in lighting. The result of that exploration puts forward honest products that transcend time and place. In pursuit of the visually poetic, we're inspired by the unexpected and the everyday; compelled by the capacity of light to shape and animate space.

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#Installatie #installation

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The Art Newspaper - International art news and events

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Powerful, political and pungent: Mike Nelson’s Tate Britain commission

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Giant rusting pieces of redundant industrial machinery sourced by the artist from online auctions of company-liquidators and industrial salvage yards lie around the gallery.