writings

Sometimes art is about a rigourous exploration of a theme or a questioning of an idea. Sometimes it’s appeal is some thing more base, something that appeals to more innate human chemistries. Neither one is better than the other, or more valid. The majority of abstract art works on some primeval jerk of recognition or understanding.

The Whitechapel gallery is showing work by Claire Barclay at the moment called Shadow Spans and it got me wondering about when we forgive artistic waffle and when we indulge it. The work she is showing is graphic. Unflinchingly so in it’s structure, references and appeal, but we are asked to read it as an exploration of London’s many-textured buildings (not necessarily a rich area for new exploration). What if we had been left alone with these odd, occasionally surprising shapes to find our own readings? Would we have found richer interpretations, rather than feeling a slight disappointment at their supposed meanings?

Graphics is a broad word and in this case stands for the appeal of structure and form. It may not be a valid form of art (is it?) but is certainly a way of communicating. If these structures were born from the obvious potential of door frames and birdcages to work graphically, then I think I would rather be told that than feel let down by a last minute justification (or at least something that feels like one).

The work was good at times. Fingers of gloves tied to a frame on a front door does hint at the lives lived behind and is quietly unnerving. Just don’t make the mistake of reading the introduction, because it doesn’t deliver.

On a separate note, if I see another piece of work that claims to be questioning digital rights/ownership this year I might consider exhibiting screen grabs of my iTunes library. That gripe aside, Stephen Sutcliffe’s video work in the auditorium was a beautiful pile of british culture and poetic juxtaposition.

What decides whether you upload a video to your vimeo account or your youtube one? When you take the pictures off your camera, which ones go on Facebook and which are for Flickr?

Is it purely an issue of content, silly for Facebook, serious for flickr? And who is it that chooses this? Clearly in the case of Vimeo, they marketed themselves as a mature alternative to YouTube, so generally speaking, we trusted that our works would seem more intelligent if they were embedded in Vimeo’s html as opposed to YouTubes. So what are the unwritten rules that define what is and isn’t for Vimeo, and how are we all managing to obey them so well (I have yet to see an over weight person break a rope swing and fall into a shallow ditch on their site.)?

Further more, why was twitter so popular when Facebook already offered micro blogging? Twitter seemed to be born at that time when single serving websites were becoming more popular. Sites that did one thing, but did it well. Perhaps born from a reaction to the bloated all encompassing websites like Facebook and Myspace. Perhaps twitter just rode the zeitgeist, straight after the blogging revolution. We wanted the next way of projecting ourselves and an easier way of emptying our brains onto the internet.

Or here was my theory and the point I’m building to. All these new sites (twitter, vimeo, linkdin) offer a chance to build a new online character. Draw a line under all older digital personality development and start on a new one. Like Frodo leaving the shire (and that part of his life) behind forever. If Facebook was my digital childhood, then Twitter is my adolescence. Sure I still use Facebook, but often only to confirm or challenge a character and part of my life that I can’t really affect. Most people I know on Facebook probably decided who I was 15 years ago. On Twitter I got a fresh start, like going to secondary school and shedding the pant wetting primary version of myself. I tremulously typed my first 140 characters, deleted, reflected, restructured and edited to build this new me. Crippled by the need to say just the right thing, like a pubescent boy fumbling his words in front of a seemingly more assured female classmate.

So new internet things aren’t always driven by technology, often it’s just the chance or challenge to try presenting our personality in that new space. To level up and branch out from nothing. I know everyone keeps saying “you know, a bit like computer games” these days, but: you know, a bit like computer games.

After a month of writing an article a day, it’s time to do the inevitable and get introspective. Annoyingly predictable, but the writing takes enough time each day that only by pausing for a moment will I really be able get any perspective on the thing.

The main focus for this website was to improve my writing. To make it both more readable and more entertaining. Writing everyday, the ideas risk becoming a little stretched or thin on the ground. So I’ll pause to reflect on what has improved and what hasn’t, then come back next monday probably with a new format, like an article a week, or every other day. Something that keeps the processes entertaining and not a chore (which it isn’t yet, but I think it soon would have been).

The crux of the issue is that I really want to write things that people find either entertaining or informative, or perhaps a happy mix of the two. So if you have any feedback on what would be more fun, interesting or logical, let me know.

UPDATE: This site is still being used, but increasingly less now, as any writing I do is forming part of our new venture over at designersfront.com I’ll put the odd piece here when I think it merits it though.

Whether or not to work for large, morally questionable businesses is a question that often arises for start-up companies. Does it agree with your principles and is it the direction you want to go down. You often hear conversations that go something like:

We’ve been approached to work with big company X who do morally questionable thing Y, I wasn’t sure whether to take it, but after a lot of reflection I felt that we would be better able to change the way it works from the inside.

You can’t apply that same rationale to many other moral dilemmas and remain so absolved of responsibility. For instance:

“When I were first approached about stealing that curly-wurly, I said no way, that curly-wurly ain’t ours for the taking. Then once I thought about it properly, it came to me that by stealin’ that reasonably-priced treat, I’d be able a change the way chocolate thefts occur in the future, maybe even stop ‘em being taken awl-agether.’

There is never justification for stealing curly-wurlys, the price is so fair anyway.

Recently a friend was telling me that they were in the “approached by company X” position and they resolved it by saying, we don’t approve of their morals at times but it would be fascinating to see how they work from the inside, see what the systems are for decision making and be involved in that. It’s the same stance really, only a little more honest. Either way, making a difference is always going to be difficult.

Alicia Leedle was responsible for leading Wal-Mart into subsidising education in relevant fields for it’s employers, which for a big business, as the ny times points out , will probably have far reaching impacts on all business in America, as where Wal-Mart go, others follow. Alicia Leedle is being rewarded with a fellowship by the Aspen Institute. She came from outside the company a few years before and is credited with this initiative and medical care reforms. How much of that was the mood of the time and how much was her passion, we probably can never know, but it shows the way we should be thinking. Approach with values that you hold to be important and find a way to show the company that they could completely change their public image and you can be in a position of significant influence.

For me the distinction is clear, if you’re working for a morally questionable company doing morally questionable things, then you should think again, but if your values come through in what your doing and how you do it, then your influence is positive and you should be happy that you have the potential to bring about change in an area where it is most needed.

J G Ballard spent most of his writing career trying to convince us that sexual attraction is about almost anything but the opposite sex. Crash told us that the destruction of modernity through mangled car wrecks was the perfect modern turn on.

“A car crash harnesses elements of eroticism, aggression, desire, speed, drama, kinesthetic factors, the stylizing of motion, consumer goods, status — all these in one event.”

In Super-Cannes, his book about a futuristic computer park in Southern France he said that all sexual arousal was about violence and power. Power and violence are the real turn ons, the corner stones of sexual desire are not about chemistry between two people, but just an inflation of an ego.

In High Society, Ben Elton created a character who was so turned-on by himself, that he would become erect at inappropriate times. He was a master of disguise and often dressed as a woman; the moment when he knew his cover had worked was also always the moment when he was so impressed by himself that he gave the game away. Nothing could turn him on more than his own powers.

George Orwell wrote about the removal of sexual desires as being directly linked to the removal of self worth in Down and Out in Paris and London. The time he spent living homeless showed him that most tramps had become completely asexual, shutting off from acknowledging their (normally) masculinity. Sexuality had become something they were completely removed from.

Much of sexuality is born from something other than what we expect. It is routed in self satisfaction and empowerment. There is a notable lack of women in all of these examples. In fact all these states of arousal or non arousal are missing what we might think of as the main sexual stimuli, the opposite sex. In the male phsyche, it is suggested that sexuality is a selfish thing, linked almost entirely with our own state of mind.

God there are a lot of different art forms, all with their own language. The other day in London, you could pay to enter a room where the Bolshoy Ballet were doing some dancing.

There is something fascinating about approaching a new art form. Inevitably there is some skepticism that it won’t bring anything new or interesting to the canon of artistic areas you find valuable. You ask yourself: what can dancing do to change the way I feel about the issues that move me? There is also an uncertainty about how you will end up ‘reading’ the work. Is ballet narrative driven like a musical, is it skill driven like gymnastics or is it a piece of abstract art where meaning exists independent of real world references. The answer typically is a little of all three.

A few things about ballet. It’s long, and they pretty much dance the whole time, so you really will have to find something to like about dancing. There’s a lot of clapping. A little less than a cricket match, but slightly more than an AA meeting, so don’t expect to be drawn into a believable world where the fourth wall is never referenced. Performers will regularly come to the front of the stage and ask your opinion of the previous few moments of leaping, spinning and knicker showing. The fourth wall is also interrogated by the presence of on-stage actors watching people dance. If they are the audience within the play, what are we? Also does that mean dancing is what people actually do in this world to communicate emotions and travel large distances. If it is, then why are people always watching? Wouldn’t it be completely mundane and rarely, if ever, draw a crowd. It’s not a critiscm, but it’s worth remembering that logical, thought-out worlds are not what your buying into.

So how do you read ballet, what provides its artistic appeal? It’s not the narrative, that can be said with some certainty. It’s unlikely that anyone who didn’t know the story of Le Corsaire before hand could make even a mumbled suggestion of what the story was. It’s also not in the spectacle either. Yes there are moments when a lot of well choreographed bits happen, but they rarely do more than form a back drop to the main dancers. The strongest feeling I came away with was of human physicality, both singularly and relation to others. The explanation and exploration of human relationships through touch, gesture and immaculately held posture. As one dancer scuttles off the stage to be replaced by another who will contort and frolic, then meet up again with the other to flick and twist before grasping each other and coming to receive their applause. So it’s a narrative of the human body, not sexy, but beautiful. You come away uplifted and reminded of how lovely a thing it is. What you’re reading is the relationship between those bodies, those collections of muscle and grace.

It’s a rare thing in modern art or entertainment to be made to work for your enjoyment. Ballet makes you. To enjoy it you need to appreciate the subtlety of the moves and realise there will be very few moments of eye filling spectacle. You can’t waste the first hour waiting for everyone to form a kaleidoscopic, James Cameroon-style on screen mess, it just ain’t like that.

It takes some adjusting from the noise and speed of modern television, or the stage-breaking quantity of action in musicals, or the massive over arching plot lines of blockbuster t.v where slapstick and world encompassing narratives are the modes of communication. We just aren’t used to having to work for our enjoyment.

It draws comparison better with cricket, subtle and slow paced. It’s a shame to look at ballet as sport, it’s better seen as an art form rather than technical, but it does sit near to all three. Its comparison to sport comes from a need for great athleticism; the competitive elements introduced by the audience response to a well performed move are reminiscent of the ripple of appreciation given to a well timed cover drive. The real comparison though comes from the fact that people who like cricket tend to really like it, and to everyone else it’s the epitome of tedium. Ballet is the same and that’s because neither of them serve their pleasures to you on a plate.

Oh, and talking about James Cameron, right at the end of Le Coursaire, when you’re finally certain that the nuance of ballet is a great step away from the over blown riots that we have come accustomed to in art, theatre, film and books, they spend the last twenty minutes sinking a massive mechanical ship and not dancing at all.

Often when you think your thinking hard, your really thinking so hard about thinking thats there’s no time for real thought. There is another type of pseudo-thinking too, which is relaxing your brain and waiting until you recognise something.

Let’s use University Challenge questions as examples as they are quite a nice judge of intelligence. It takes the two aspects that I see as key for intelligence, problem solving and breath of knowledge. If you just rely on breath of knowledge then you’ll answer a certain amount of questions, but if you can problem solve then your chances increase dramatically. Heres an example question handled the two ways.

Which 19th century french painter, famed for his involvement in the impressionist movement painted Wheatstacks?

A lazy thought process only hears, who painted Wheatstacks? Then makes that the core of the question and you either know who painted it or you don’t.

A harder working thought process sees the name of the painting as only a fraction of the question. It uses each element of the question as a filter (french, 1800s, impressionist), by the time you arrive at the name of the painting, you would have filtered it down to two or three options. Of course knowledge is important, but hard work is even more important.

Most of my life has been spent surrounded by much cleverer people, with me waddling around mushy-brained and damp-eyed, unable to communicate beyond rudimentary grunts. What I’ve been able to divine from that vantage point is that intelligence is about lots of little moments of hard work, to connect a couple of disparate elements or see an un-obvious explanation. So don’t think you aren’t clever, just stop thinking you’re thinking and start using your brain.

Talking about drug addiction, Russell Brand described heroin as being his full stop. A time when he was no longer looking for anything. The full stop could be interpreted as a time of stasis where people are no longer disturbed by their past or in anticipation of the future. In his case it was a relatively extreme full stop, using heroin is not in the same league as a cup of tea and a sit down. Your situation or state of mind probably dictates the size of the full stop you’re looking for, but most people can probably relate to the need of, and search for, a moment of complete satisfaction.

What it speaks of is a desire in humans for a state of mental quiet. In On The Road Jack Keroac explained it like this:

“The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death.”

That is a bleaker, more poetic take on the idea of a disquiet that nags at the human mind. It’s also no coincidence that it came in this seminal book, a book that really marked the beginning of a disenfranchised youth culture and probably the beginning of a comfier existence for Americans. There was a huge expansion of the middle classes and a larger part of the population had more time to contemplate their existence. The point being an idle mind is more likely to search this full stop.

Tom Simpson was an English cyclist who died of exhaustion during the Tour de France, he was a driven and troubled man. Before he died he talked of a near death experience he had in Italy where he lay down by the side of the road and felt that he was slipping in and out of being alive. He said to his friends that it was a wonderful fealing of no more pain, floating above himself looking down. In any one else it might be descibed as whymsy, but in a man that just a few years later biked himself to death, it has more resonance.

In simple terms it could be called the search for contentment, in reality it is more than that. Full stop describes it better, a conclusion and a target. Something to aim for. We all know it in some form, whether it’s drinking too much, the hope that the next cigarette will be the one that finally satisfies or some other gentler pleasure.

“A liberal is a man too broadminded to take his own side in a quarrel.”
Robert Frost (1874 – 1963)

A friend said to me the other day that everyone is born liberal and becomes conservative. I haven’t heard that before, but it’s a nagging doubt that every young, liberal minded person must have. Will I feel the same when I have property, family and the fear of something-to-loose, guiding my judgement. As to whether everyone is born liberal, I’m not sure, but people commenting on this article make some interesting points, including Indian Joe who says:

They are…totally unable to provide for themselves, never expected to do so, and dependent on “authority” to deal with their every whim and want. While, of course, completely disrespecting that authority whenever it suits them. EVERYONE is “born a liberal.”

But many of us grow out of it.

What this really does is brings into question what we perceive liberal to mean. To me it’s about belief in people and tolerance in society, but to others it might mean a heavy reliance on the state. In a sense one extreme of liberal values is to say that everyone is free to do what they want, another is to say, the state will play a part in every aspect of your life. Both of those could also be conservative values. The first would be expressed as, everyone for themselves and the second as regulations and authoritarianism. Richard Kemp, a liberal activist says:

“Liberalism inherently believes that almost everyone has the capacity to run their own lives and should be given the freedom to do it. It also believes that, given the freedom, most people will act responsibly and not become too greedy and try to take out more than their due.”

One could read the first part of that statement as being a conservative attitude. Conservatives would also argue that liberal values would increase state involvement in people lives, not just leave them to ‘run their own lives’. If politics warranted similie you might argue that liberalism and conservatism arc like a sun setting on the murky lake of politics, each dipping to touch the other and complete the circle of confusion.

Managing the confusions between left and right wing and liberal versus conservative is equally difficult. The best way I found of understanding it is the political compass test, which gives four axis rather than two. This takes the pressure off Liberalism also needing to represent left wing values such as Socailism. Not only does the test do a good job of visualising and quantifying abstract concepts, the makers also provoke interesting ideas about how different parties relate to each other. Here is a map of the parties from the 2010 British Election. This map is also very useful in explaining what left and right wing means in terms of political persuation and values.

So will we all end up conservative? Maybe, but does conservative as a concept in opposite to liberalism really exist, and even if it does, would it matter? As they say on the British Election page linked to above:

Election debates between mainstream parties are increasingly about managerial competence rather than any clash of vision and fundamental difference in economic direction.

As long as nothing you believe in removes the liberties of others then you can be of any political persuation. It might be a bit rich though, to have a heavily state sponsored education and then ally with a party that opposes that once you are out of the system, so I guess I’ll be liberally minded for the foreseeable future.