4 hours agoLiars - “The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack”
I won’t run far, I can always be found, I can always be found.
Speaking of peeking behind the curtain, a couple of days ago I watched this documentary, The Great Contemporary Art Bubble Update, a fascinating, admittedly cynical view of the high-end art market. If you’re in the UK you will be able to view or download this program via the BBC iPlayer for the next 4 days.
Incidentally, I believe this documentary also recently aired on Australian free-to-air.
6 hours agoArt critic and film-maker Ben Lewis spent two years following the contemporary art market, from its heady peak in May 2008 until the crash and burn in October. Now, in a new and updated version of the film first broadcast in May 2009, he returns one year later, in October 2009, to discover a very different market.
The last five years had witnessed an unprecedented craze for contemporary art, in which works of art by Andy Warhol, Francis Bacon, and Mark Rothko sold for record-breaking prices of 30 million pounds upwards. It all climaxed in September 2008, when Damien Hirst sold 111 million pounds’ worth of his art at an unprecedented auction at Sotheby’s - the very day Lehman Brothers collapsed bringing down the financial markets of the western world. The bubble did not burst the night of the Hirst sale - but it proved to be a last hurrah.
The auctions in October and November 2008 were a disaster, and Ben was there too, filming the art world in shock. By early 2009, the contemporary art auction market was down 75 per cent, auction houses had recorded record losses and were rapidly downsizing.
In October 2009, Ben returns to find out what has been happening.
In this inside eye-witness journey into the art world, Ben visits auction houses, art fairs, galleries and the homes of billionaires across the world, searching for the reasons behind the greatest rise in financial value of art in history. He interviews leading dealers, art collectors and art market analysts and discovers an extraordinary world of unusual market practices, speculation, secrecy and a passionate enthusiasm for art.
Today.
- Go to White Cube, Hoxton to look at Damien Hirst prints, with view to buy. Goal, get onto 3rd and/or 4th floor, and peek behind the curtain so to speak.
- Head to some London pub to catch as much as I can of the Liverpool v Blackburn game before…
- seeing Spike Jonze @ Apple Store Regent Street (in the process, marking another hero off the list)
Wole Soyinka and Tara June Winch. I saw them in conversation yesterday. Fantastic. Inspiring.
More about that:
6 hours agoPart of the Rolex Mentors and Protégés London Programme.
The Rolex Mentor and Protégé Arts Initiative is an international philanthropic programme created to assist talented young artists to achieve their full potential. It seeks out these artists from around the world and brings them together with great masters in the fields of dance, film, literature, music, theatre and visual arts for a year of creative collaboration in a one-to-one mentoring relationship.
To celebrate the end of the mentoring year, each mentor will present the work of their protégé through a weekend of talks, screenings, exhibitions and performances.
Masterclass is delighted to be hosting an event for the Rolex Mentor and Protégé Arts Initiative at the Theatre Royal Haymarket. Renowned Nigerian writer and Nobel Prize laureate Wole Soyinka, will introduce his protégée, young Australian novelist Tara June Winch, and discuss her work with readings from some of her recent writing and work in progress. Tara began writing at the age of 17 and published her first novel, Swallow the Air, in 2006, winning several prestigious Australian awards. During her mentoring year she has concentrated on writing short stories as well as for the stage.
This promises to be a fascinating event which will give insight into working with a mentor and the art of creative writing.
Documentary excerpt detailing the production of Stanley Kubrick’s film Barry Lyndon
21 hours ago
GERMAN GIRL: Would you like to stay with me… for few days… or sometimes?
1 day ago
26 years + 5 days old, feels alright.
2 days agoI went to Tate Modern yesterday, which I seem to be doing a lot recently. I got lost in thought on the way, forgot to get off the bus early, as intended, so I could walk* across London Bridge.
I started with the Balka piece in the Turbine Hall. A crate, a big, black, box that resembles an enormous shipping container. I hadn’t expected to experience the same sensation this time, so was surprised when, once again, I felt apprehensive in the darkness.
Upstairs at the Poetry and Dream collection I began working my way through, piece by piece, in the thorough, exhaustive manner I’ve now become accustomed. I want to learn everything, understand everything, and think about every detail. I spent forty-five minutes on one wall* and broke for the second half of a Nero sandwich.
I waited for the noon guided tour through Material Gestures. A seventy-odd year old half-Russian woman, takes you through the highlights of the collection explaining their origin, the artists life, technique, social impact, or anything that is interesting about a piece. It was to be just me and her in some intimate, personal tour of the collection. Unnerving, especially since I was expecting to fade curiously into the background of a small group. We waited for others, but nobody came.
We began. Shortly after, another woman joined us. The joining woman was bright, friendly, knowledgable, and unpretentious. As she joined us she was asked for background, not a painter, not an artist, just an enthusiast. We viewed the works of Bacon, Kapoor, Kirchner, Giaconetti, Fautrier, Matisse, etc*, one by one, calmly, and in detail. We had to lean in close to hear the old lady speak. Quiet, slow, and in a fragile shuffle, she was charming, knowledgable, shared insights (with sides of light anecdotes); a friend once prepared roast chicken with potatoes for a multi-millionaire art collector* he showed his gratitude with a Richard Serra (what a punchline!).
An hour passed and we ended on Pollock’s Summertime: Number 9A, a knockout. The old lady shuffled off, disappeared almost.
Before I could spin a heel the other lady was extending her hand, introducing herself. We split, she asked me about the Design Workshop somewhere nearby, but I knew little of it. A walk and talk with/without coffee somehow seemed the likely scenario to find ourselves in considering our situation (the intimacy of three, and a wheel spinning off). I decided to go with it rather than cut and run, if anything came up I could deal with that later.
So together we wondered if we should join another tour, none doing. We headed toward the Poetry and Dream collection, and talked about the work. Crows pinned to walls with lines and arrows, surrealism, abstract, cubism, it felt odd to be so familiar with a stranger, but thrilling in an ordinary way. We briefed two rooms and sometime soon she got a phone call and excused herself, she was back a few moments later.
When she came back she was talking about Balka, and asking me about it and my experiences. Later, she told me she had to go, Design Workshop see, pre-planned. We said how pleased we were to meet each other, shook hands and said goodbye.
I went back to the first main room of Poetry and Dream and spent the next few hours soaking the walls, one room, so dense. Eavesdropping on school excursions, teachers numbly reading from text books, uninspired and uninspiring. Others, bright, enthusiastic, questioning, provoking, enlightening young minds, challenging them, hopefully inspiring them. The parents that take their kids to galleries, oh boy, they’re the ones.
I tired, grew hungry and left.
Half-day at the Tate, breakthrough*
2 days ago