19th biennale of sydney : arts events and corporate sponsorship

Alexander Kosolapov, McLenin's, 1991, exhbited at Saatchi Gallery 2013




It has come to light recently that the 19th Biennale of Sydney receives funding from Transfield, the company responsible for running offshore detention centers for the Australian Government. The policy in Australia, brought in by John Howard's government, of imprisoning refugees for lengthy periods while their claims are processed has meant that there have been escalating breaches of human rights. It is essentially a policy designed to delay and dehumanise refugees seeking asylum in Australia, all the while pandering to the  xenophobic, racist opinions of some members of the public. There have been numerous problems in the detention centers, such as insufficient space, staff and support services, mental health issues and suicide attempts, separation of family members and recently, the death of Reza Berati on February 17th who was being held inside the Manus Island detention center. A few months ago PM Tony Abott legislated that staff working in these detention centers had to refer to asylum seekers as 'detainees,' rather than the previously used 'clients;' which I think really sums up the approach Australia is taking in treating people who are fleeing war-torn countries, as criminals. 

When it recently became public knowledge that Transfield, who operate and profit from detention centers at Manus Island and Nauru, were Biennale of Sydney's major sponsor, 28 of the 37 artists involved wrote a letter expressing concern about this arrangement. Since then 5 artists have withdrawn from the Biennale altogether. 

They are:

Libia Castro

Olafur Olafsson

Charlie Sofo

Gabrielle de Vietri

Ahmet Ogut

I respect this decision deeply as I think they've made the right choice. If you are engaged in making art, and in particular art that aims to say something socially or politically, about humanity, social justice or the xenophobic attitudes people have, then you really can't be collecting your pay-cheque from a company that runs offshore prisons for asylum seekers. Or if you do, maybe your art just doesn't mean that much. Intention, ideas and engagement are  important to art making. 

All of that said, I think this is a problematic issue, because tonnes of these large-scale art events, like the Biennale of Sydney, receive corporate sponsorship. And you can bet there are plenty of corporations engaging in immoral, shady activity. There is such a huge focus in these events on spending a large budget too; to get AV equipment, video, large installations, so that the audience enjoys the sensory experience of the festival / blockbuster exhibition / Biennale / WHITE NIGHT *cough* 

Anyway, I feel that the statements that Biennale of Sydney have made justifying their decision to continue with the Transfield sponsorship are very feeble. It goes to show that all the discussion about art practices being socially/politically engaged are just a load of words. Though I always have in the past, I wont be going this year. Fuck the Biennale of Sydney.

gertrude contemporary / discipline lecture no 8

I went to a really interesting lecture last week. It was part of a series of lectures at Gertrude Contemporary that have been programmed between the gallery and Discipline art journal.
The lecture was delivered by Denise de Silva, Professor in Ethics at Queen Mary University in London. 

Black Feminist Poethics: Toward the End of the World (As We Know It)

“Would the Poet’s intention emancipate the Category of Blackness from the scientific and historical ways of knowing which produced it in the first place, which has been the Black Feminist Critic worksite?

Perhaps Blackness emancipated from science and history would wonder about another praxis and wander away and beyond the World, guiding the Feminist to an imagining of other ways of knowing and doing. From without the World as we know it, gazing at the Horizon of The Thing – where the imagination plays unchained – such a Black Feminist Poethic could expose the whole field of possibilities for knowing and doing.

Towards this End, as a preliminary move, this talk returns to the task some call the critique of representation, with an account that confronts juridical (the authorised total violence of the police and the courts) and economic (the expropriation of total value from indigenous lands and enslaved labour) moments of racial subjugation.”

-Denise De Silva


I found Denise De Silva's discussion of how capitalist wealth has and continues to exploit labour along racial lines very interesting. The fact is that the current economic state is built off the exploitation of people of colour. 
In America, the munificent wealth some people enjoy has at its basis the colonizing of land followed by the exploitation of slave labour. 
Likewise in Australia. We are a country that has built ourselves from the colonization of land and the marginalization and mistreatment of indigenous people. Australia's wealth in the global economy comes from gathering and trading resources from these lands. For people familiar with Postcolonial critique and history these things would be obvious. But the overarching ways that labour and land are used and exploited by capitalist structures can go overlooked. If you want to look at issues of equality and feminism it seems vital to consider all the ways in which people are made un-equal within society. If you want to consider whose subjectivity is being considered most important in the way politicians make policy, it's crucial to consider how racist divisions of labour have been and continue to be, within society. When you look at Australia's current political situation it isn't difficult to see that our government plays on people's fear and racist tendencies, particularly in the case of policy around refugees.

The lecture was inspiring and I highly recommend reading this article by Denise de Silva. I plan on reading some of the books she refers to in the article as well.


 

pussy riot : a punk prayer

"Art is not a mirror to reflect reality, but a hammer with which to shape it."  -Bertolt Brecht


I went and saw a documentary at MIFF recently about Russian punk-feminist group Pussy Riot. It was awesome and inspiring. 
So just as some background, Pussy Riot formed as a response to Vladimir Putin's re-election in 2011 and is composed of around eleven women who wear fluorescent balaclavas and refer to one another in nicknames to maintain anonymity. They are based in Moscow and create guerrilla performances in public spaces that protest against conservative and misogynistic ideology. Their lyrics focus on the fusion of church and State, describing Vladimir Putin as a dictator, as well as on pressure faced by young women to have children and behave subserviently. One of the things I found enjoyable about their performances is that they have a playful, trickster edge, while still giving a powerful message of hope, liberation and pushing back against authority. 





"Pussy Riot's performances can either be called dissident art or political action that engages art forms. Either way, our performances are a kind of civic activity amidst the repressions of a corporate political system that directs its power against basic human rights and civil and political liberties."  

The documentary focused most particularly on the period after their highly publicised arrest in 2012. The performance that led to the arrest and trial of three members of Pussy Riot took place at the Cathedral of Christ the Savior and involved them walking up the steps leading to the alter, dancing and beginning their song 'Mother of God, Drive Putin Away,' which included lyrics that criticised the churches role in oppressing women and alluded to links between the Orthodox Church and the KGB. A previous performance of the song can be found here. They were escorted from the church by guards after less than a minute and the church called on the government to criminalize blasphemy. Within a few days, three members of the group were arrested and charged with 'hooliganism.' 





The details of the trial were curious, and a media circus quickly grew around it. International attention turned towards the case, with protests held worldwide, and international artists such as Madonna, Die Antword and Bjork pledging their support. It was kind of pleasing to hear that through all the commodification of the 'cause' of Pussy Riot, that they remained ambivalent of the attention stating:

“We’re flattered, of course, that Madonna and Björk have offered to perform with us. But the only performances we’ll participate in are illegal ones. We refuse to perform as part of the capitalist system, at concerts where they sell tickets.”





One of the things that I found most interesting about the film was the way that it went into each girls upbringing and background in activism and art. Maria Alyokhina (left) had a history in environmental activism and studied at the Institute of Journalism and Creative. She spoke beautifully and eloquently during the trial:

“For me, this trial only has the status of a ‘so-called’ trial. And I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid of lies and fiction, of the thinly disguised fraud in the sentence of this so-called court. Because you can only take away my so-called freedom. And that is the exact kind that exists now in Russia. But nobody can take away my inner freedom.”

Nadezhda Tolokonnikova and Yekaterina Samutsevich (middle and right) were previously members of public performance group Voina and were involved in a protest that I really loved in which they went into public places and grabbed and kissed female police officers on duty on the streets and on trains. There were a few grainy videos of this piece, and it seemed like such an aggressive and spontaneous action. The police officers seemed so surprised and confused, it was beautiful.




I suppose the only thing that pissed me off about the documentary over all was the conversations that I overheard in the bathroom queue afterwards. I listened to two ladies bemoaning what tough places Russia and China would be to live, how these countries are backward, restrictive and have no freedom of speech. They comforted themselves by mentioning how lucky we are to live in Australia (and they really couldn't have sounded more smug about it).
This really made my blood boil. 
Do films (and film festivals) like this exist simply to validate people's feeling of self-satisfaction and superiority? As though in our current political climate, in which our politicians implement racist and cruel refugee policy, things are all perfect. People are still arrested for protesting in Australia. There is still sexism, violence against women, homophobia and blatant racism. Not that I don't think it's right to feel grateful for the food, shelter and love that I have in my life. But I really don't think it was the goal of Pussy Riot to reaffirm people's sense of comfort in their position in their respective societies. They are a voice for mobilising, thinking and making change to the things that are wrong and unjust. 

At any rate, was an interesting film, but going to MIFF makes me feel like I'm drowning in smug.

goldene bend'er : mikala dwyer : acca

Just a few quick words on an exhibition currently on at ACCA that has ritualistic, abject elements that I found interesting. Goldene Bend'er is a work by Mikala Dwyer, that spans over three rooms at ACCA, with an installation, a performative video, costumes hanging on the wall and a series of large scale sculptures. 

The video depicts a circle of people shrouded and hooded in golden KKK-esque robes dancing, swaying and waving their arms in unison. It's like witnessing an odd, anonymous celebration. There is a ring of clear perspex cylinders that they move around, which also appear on the ground in front of the projected video. At a certain point the group (of around six figures) each seat themselves on one of the cylinders. The sound, not so noticeable before moves towards a groaning, humming crescendo; the figures squat, their forearms held forward, their hands making jerky 'jazz hand' movements; as they each take a shit, into the plastic cylinders. Their anuses are not visible, under the cloaks, but the shit can be seen clearly as it falls and plops slowly from each figure into the 'toilets' below. 



It's a sinister, but comical ritual. It reminds of the moment in childhood development where a child is proud that they've managed to use the toilet for the first time and are gleeful about their shit. A moment usually private, turned into a funny, scary, brightly colored ritual. The sound accompanying the video was similar to that at the end of the film Rosemary's Baby, when Rosemary has discovered that her neighbors are Satanists conspiring against her, all kind of guttural and droning.

The wall opposite the video was hung with the costumes that the figures wear.




In the next room are several sculptures; large warped ring shapes that are rendered in glossy silver and gold. Beside them sit smaller golden objects, blobby vessels and figures. I found the video work the most interesting element, and couldn't entirely get into the relation between that and the sculptures.....but hey, maybe I was just being stubborn.
I attended a talk about this exhibition. It mostly focused on the way we figure shitting to be a private activity and endeavor to separate ourselves from feces, decay and disease.
There were also references to alchemy and the idea of 'turning shit to gold.'



ACCA
111 Sturt Street
Southbank
https://www.accaonline.org.au/

feed room : thoughts

I've been pondering some of the strange thoughts I had during the Feed Room performance and the behaviors that you all witnessed and have been trying to figure out how to describe my experience. I guess I could begin by saying that I went into it with limited expectations, I hoped it would be experimental in nature. However I thought it would be an artwork about what it means to be imprisoned. About how surveillance works on the individual. I also thought the isolation might be enlightening....and contemplative.
I think it was all of these things to some degree. 
But some of the thoughts that crossed my mind surprised me. And I found it much more difficult than I expected. In fact I think it's probably the hardest performances I've ever done.


Day 1      10:00am
At the very beginning when I settled into the room I felt fairly calm. It seemed an opportunity to collect my thoughts, think about particular plans I had for the next few months and further into the future. From where I was I could see a sliver of window behind a curtain and therefore see when the sun rose and set. I could also faintly hear the activities, TV watching and muffled conversation of the owner of the gallery, who lived upstairs. Once the sun went down I began to panic. It became very very cold, and I calculated that I still had at least 48 hours to spend in the room and it already felt like I'd been there for ages. I paced around a lot, walked in circles, tried to break down numbers into smaller increments of time that made sense. Where at first I'd thought this would be a scenario I'd have some degree of control over, I began to feel that it was   entirely unpredictable. Without surrounding people or objects, without context, was I entirely unsubstantial? I found it difficult to sleep because of the cold, uncomfortable floor and curled myself up completely under the blanket. Every time I'd nod off I would wake up feverishly within a short time, and it felt like the night lasted forever. Sometime around when the sun came up I slept and had a dream in which I was on a beach covered with tiger snakes. I grabbed one by the head, and killed it by sinking my fingernails through its head.






Day 2
Waking up I felt, at first refreshed. I thought for some time about people who lived for long periods in prison, or in institutions. Where everyday they would wake up and see walls that didn't belong to them. I began to daydream about food, meals I'd eaten and meals that I wanted to eat. In the afternoon I fell asleep heavily and slept for what felt like a while. During this time I dreamt of eating soft boiled eggs and toast with honey on it. I spent a lot of time staring into space, staring at the walls and the floor. I felt agitated, impatient and depressed. The room smelt more and more of urine because of the fact that I'd been pissing in a bucket and gotten some on my clothing. Noticing there was a brick loose in the wall, I pulled it out and placed it in the middle of the room. Sometimes when I glanced at it, it seemed to have features, or be alive. As it got later I became more and more hungry and it was difficult to focus on anything other than food. I struggled to fall asleep because of intense stomach cramps, but when I finally did, I slept longer and deeper than the night before. I dreamt that I was in the apartment of Holly Golightly (Audrey Hepburn) in the film Breakfast at Tiffany's. She was wearing a trench coat, my mother was there too and a man that I didn't recognise. We were drinking champagne, smoking cigarettes and enjoying ourselves.





Day 3
I woke up feeling somewhat better. My stomach no longer hurt. Occasionally I got the impression that I would faint, the air in front of my eyes was crackly. I felt more meditative and calm than the previous day. I realised that when I sat beneath one of the light globes on the ceiling that it would reflect in the glass of water I was holding. I began pouring pools of water onto the floor and the light globe reflected in them looking somewhat like the moon reflected in a lake. I stared at this for a long time and it was soothing. I lay down under the blanket for a while. It felt like a pink, soothing sanctuary. A womb. I began to think of leaving the room which made me feel relieved but also anxious. When it began to grow dimmer outside, I decided the performance was over, got up and turned the webcam off. It was 4:30pm.








Many thanks to Jason of The Owl and the Pussycat Gallery in Richmond for allowing me to undertake this work there, as well as to all of you who watched online.

feed room II

Feed Room
Live stream by Ustream

feed room

Feed Room is happening this week!! from Sunday through to Wednesday night at The Owl and the Pussycat Gallery in Richmond.

Feed Room is an online and on air work in which I will live in a gallery space continuously for a number of days with the footage streamed to this blog and to a series of TVs in the front window of the gallery. I'll be getting isolated, staying up late and testing my mind and body.

The address is 34 Swan Street, Richmond if you happen to be walking by. 
I'll post the video link on here tomorrow if you have a moment to watch over the coming days.

xo