2001年1月31日 星期三

You ask the questions

(Such as: so, Gavin Turk, Young British Artist, where would you and your friends be without the support of Charles Saatchi? And is Hoxton really as fashionable as they say?)

Wednesday, 31 January 2001

The artist Gavin Turk, 33, famously failed his MA course at the Royal College of Art when he displayed a blue English Heritage plaque with his name on it for his degree show. He is best known for his full-size sculpture Pop - a waxwork of himself as Sid Vicious - which was bought by Charles Saatchi and shown as part of the epoch-making Sensation exhibition. Turk is a leading member of the YBAs, or Young British Artists, a group that includes Tracey Emin and Damien Hirst. He has had a number of solo exhibitions at the White Cube gallery in London and has just completed a project on Che Guevara, as part of Year of the Artist, in which he advertised for "revolutionaries" to take part. His work is showing at the Century City exhibition, which opens tomorrow at Tate Modern. Gavin Turk lives in east London with his partner and three children.

The artist Gavin Turk, 33, famously failed his MA course at the Royal College of Art when he displayed a blue English Heritage plaque with his name on it for his degree show. He is best known for his full-size sculpture Pop - a waxwork of himself as Sid Vicious - which was bought by Charles Saatchi and shown as part of the epoch-making Sensation exhibition. Turk is a leading member of the YBAs, or Young British Artists, a group that includes Tracey Emin and Damien Hirst. He has had a number of solo exhibitions at the White Cube gallery in London and has just completed a project on Che Guevara, as part of Year of the Artist, in which he advertised for "revolutionaries" to take part. His work is showing at the Century City exhibition, which opens tomorrow at Tate Modern. Gavin Turk lives in east London with his partner and three children.

Which member of the "Britpack" artists would be best to go drinking with, and why? Lisa Waldron, Gloucester

All of them, all together, all at the same party. It would be sweet, smoochy, stupid and probably very nostalgic. I've just had a third child so socialising these days has to come to me. Things have moved on and we've all grown up a bit.

Do you think you'll be an artist for the rest of your life? How difficult is it to sustain such a persona, and do you fear the day you run out of ideas? Terry Maybury, London

I look forward to the day I run out of ideas because that will be the day that I'll feel gratified and resolved. That will be the moment when I have succeeded.

Your work often concerns itself with rather corny icons of the 20th century - Sid Vicious, Che Guevara, Elvis Presley etc. Are you an adolescent fantasist? Nick Codeman, Surrey

I think "corny" is the wrong word; "clichéd" would be more appropriate. I am a reporter on cultural fantasy and I think that clichés harbour some sort of truth. The reason why a cliché comes about is because there's an agreement between a great many people that such and such a thing is good. It may be good for varying reasons but that decision has still been made.

I heard that you were dead. How did this happen and when? K Leslie, Oxford

That sounds like a vicious rumour.

What do you dream about? Have you ever dreamt up an art work? Lisa Saunders, by e-mail

Like everyone else, I dream about unthinkable things. Your dreams are the time you get when you can join things together and not have to follow any kind of conscious stream of thought. Sometimes I dream about my work and quite often I have dreamt up whole exhibitions or various pieces of work, none of which I've actually gone on to make.

Without Charles Saatchi, you and the YBAs would be nothing. True or false? Sussanah Warren, Brighton

I don't know. Yes. To date, he's my biggest collector.

You recently produced a bin liner made out of bronze. Why? T Robinson, by e-mail

It's a similar thing to when you have a baby - the smaller the baby, the bigger the bag of stuff you have to carry around with you. When humans create matter they also create anti-matter - and so a bin liner becomes the symbol of everything humans need to discard. There's also the thing of people having their litter bags rifled through in order to find out about their life. What people throw away says a lot about their life.

Of whom would you like to do a nude study? Nicholas E Gough, Swindon

I'm not in the business of studying nudes for art.

What reaction did you get to your work on Che Guevara - and why him? Colin Lobley, Hertfordshire

I got a very varied reaction, but it was all surprisingly positive. I published my phone number in various newspapers asking people to participate and didn't receive one negative call. It was a great opportunity to be able to think about a whole variety of things - from simple corporate logos to international politics - and whether those things are actually any different. I was trying to say that some images have a political content that can be missed. Che Guevara - and especially the Alberto Korda image of him - is a catalyst, or a reason, for looking at and thinking about Third World politics, revolution and, by inference, our own political or cultural position.

Your Blue Plaque famously failed you your Royal College MA. Have you seen your tutors since then? If so, what do you have to say to them? Kate Mair, London

I recently met up with Christopher Frayling, who's now Rector of the Royal College, and he asked me whether I still had any of the souvenir plaques because he really wanted to buy one to put up in the senior common room. I just said I didn't have any left.

Was Sensation really the defining moment in the history of contemporary art that people tend to make out? Thomas May, Liverpool

Sensation was basically an exhibition of Charles Saatchi's collection, showing the work of young artists taking place in the historically traditional confines of the Royal Academy. It was simply a meeting of the old and the new, but the whole thing became a media circus because of Marcus Harvey's Myra Hindley painting. I don't think it was necessarily a turning point, though; a lot of things had already happened and the groundwork was already laid.

Who are your favourite and least favourite artists and why? Colin Favers, by e-mail

That's a hard one. When I started at art college I thought having favourites would help me to identify what was good and bad art, but as I continued to learn more I realised that it's not that. Now I have no more facility to judge good or bad art but I do have a more sophisticated understanding of the language of art.

Is it true that you had a waxwork on show in the Dome? Wasn't that a bit naff? Clare Baldini, London

I was commissioned to make a sculpture for the Mind Zone. It was based on a Magritte painting and was called Smokey Joe. It was a self portrait, with pipes sticking out of the face heated in such a way that through a smoke-filled cabinet it could be detected by an infrared camera. I went to the Dome just before it closed down with my kids, and I think we all enjoyed it for many different reasons. In the end, it had such bad press that it was always going to be very problematic.

What do your children think of your work and what would you say if your children said they wanted to be artists too? K Myerson, Stockport

They like it, or at least they say they like it, but I don't think they put it into the same category as other artworks. They've grown up with a lot of art around them and they like art generally, but they see that as different to the stuff I do. They have a slightly dislocated relationship with it. If they said they wanted to be artists, I'd just say "Are you sure?" I would encourage them to follow their interests, but I wouldn't want them to feel under any obligation to do it just because I do.

Is Hoxton really as fashionable as they say? Pete Hayward, by e-mail

Yes, it is still trendy, it really is. It's flash. It is fashion.

What can be learned from contemporary art forms such as unmade beds, faecal paintings, and halved animals? Nicholas E Gough, Swindon

I'm not sure whether the lessons learnt from these three things are the same. The works are too different. Tracey Emin's work is about her ability to share her emotions through visual and written language. Chris Offili's paintings are about ethnicity. And Damien Hirst's work is about isolated cultural elements and modern problems.

Where do you get your waxworks made? E Baton, Cardiff

They get made in my studio, and over the years I've had various different people assisting me. It's a very technical job, but it's very important to me to feel that I have made them myself. It's not a particularly creative job. What's interesting for me is the phenomenon of waxworks and sculpture and the cultural position it occupies historically. It's not fine art - it's popular art, which is why Madame Tussauds is London's most popular tourist attraction.

If I wanted to spot a hot new artist, who could make me a few quid, where should I be looking and can you recommend any one artist in particular? C Jacklin, London

Cedar Lewishon; he's my assistant. He's a good writer and a DJ.

Century City: Art and Culture in the Modern Metropolis opens tomorrow at Tate Modern, London SE1 (020-7887 8000)

2001年1月14日 星期日

Photography develops its self-doubt

I am a Camera | Saatchi Gallery, London

Charles Darwent on Art
Sunday, 14 January 2001

When a Parisian photographer named Warnod showed a work called Ships Entering the Port of Le Havre in 1862, the Revue Photographique ran a wet tongue over pointy teeth. Casting a lupine glance at Claude Monet - who was in the process of painting the same scene himself - the magazine observed that Warnod's image had "just as much harmony as the canvases of the most highly esteemed painters, and an absolute truth which artists of the utmost genius would be powerless to attain". The heirs of Messrs. Monet and Warnod have spent the subsequent 140 years slugging it out, and a new show at the Saatchi Gallery suggests that they're at it still.

When a Parisian photographer named Warnod showed a work called Ships Entering the Port of Le Havre in 1862, the Revue Photographique ran a wet tongue over pointy teeth. Casting a lupine glance at Claude Monet - who was in the process of painting the same scene himself - the magazine observed that Warnod's image had "just as much harmony as the canvases of the most highly esteemed painters, and an absolute truth which artists of the utmost genius would be powerless to attain". The heirs of Messrs. Monet and Warnod have spent the subsequent 140 years slugging it out, and a new show at the Saatchi Gallery suggests that they're at it still.

The contest has not been entirely one-sided. Monet may have sat down grim-faced at the easel to ape photography's quickness and objectivity - le style Kodak even found some impressionists making paintings that looked like photographs - but the relationship had changed by the time Chuck Close came along a hundred years later. Instead of being special, photography had become anti-special.

The billions of images we regularly consume by way of the camera had not simply democratised the whole idea of image-making, but had debased it. Close's photorealist portraits were painted in a spirit of anxiety rather than of homage, and he was not alone. You might argue that the phenomenological doubt about what we see and how we see it that underlies most recent art - Postmodernism, the ironising of the YBAs, those oh-so-naive snapshots of Wolfgang Tillmans - is underpinned by a 150-year-old unease about the banalising influence of photography: an unease that has recently begun to be as worrisome to photographers as it has been to artists.

Which could have turned Saatchi's "I am a Camera" into a curatorial mess, with any old thing thrown in to fit an impossibly broad brief. That the first artwork you see in the show is not a two-dimensional piece at all but one of Duane Hanson's uncanny waxworks - the disconsolate-looking Man on a Bench - fills you with foreboding. What has this got to do with cameras?

To tell the truth, the answer is: nothing, or at least nothing at first. By the time you leave the show, though, you'll see that Hanson's waxen Sad Sack is all to do with ideas of authenticity - about the differences between realism and reality - that are themselves bound up with questions about how we have come to view truth in a photographic world.

This realisation comes about through the clever interweaving of images in "I am a Camera". On the photographic side, the show displays all kinds of internal self-doubts. Nan Goldin's Thanksgiving series is made up of consciously snappy snapshots of Americans doing those things they do on the titular day in question (mainlining heroin, blacking each other's eyes, showing off hysterectomy scars and masturbating to camera, apparently). At the same time, though, Goldin's poppy vox pop demands to be taken as art. It's framed, it's hung as a formal installation and - in case it had escaped your attention - it's in an art gallery.

By contrast, Tierney Gearon's Technicolor shots of her children - they ski! they take Tuscan holidays! they swim in the Caribbean! - subvert the family snap by hinting at darker goings-on beneath its glossily neutral surface. Gearon's golden-haired moppets have had early lessons in gender stereotyping. The little girl lolls Lolita-like with hand on hip while the little boy gazes at roadkill through a wolf mask, wee-wees in the snow and - will Professor Freud please pick up a white courtesy 'phone - stands naked on a pedestal before an adoring matron.

For their part, the show's painters have a less compelling take on things. The young Los Angeles artist, Kristin Calabrese, takes a predictable swipe at the banalising powers of photography by painting sort-of-photorealist pictures of banal American interiors: shag-pile carpets, wood veneer walls, 'fridge magnets - you know the sort of thing. Both Calabrese's dated Brady Bunch decor and her mode of working suggest that things in painting really haven't moved on much since 1969 and Chuck Close, a feeling that is reinforced by Jason Brooks' copies of Close's work circa 1969. ("I love that period and nobody's doing it now," rationalises Brooks, with winning candour.)

Of course, another way of looking at it is to say that Brooks is simply following in Close's footsteps by out-Closeing him. Close's appropriation of photography in the 1960s raised all kinds of Warholish questions about the value of originality in an age of mechanical image-making. Brooks's appropriation of Close in the 1990s asks the same question again, but this time with an in-built tiredness that makes you wonder whether painting, in emulating it, hasn't become as mechanistic as photography. Or, just possibly, more so.

* 'I am a Camera': Saatchi Gallery, NW8 (020 7624 8299), 18 January to 25 March.

2001年1月10日 星期三

Great savings, Great art.

Wednesday, 10 January 2001

For everyone who loves art and visiting galleries, The Independent has produced The Independent Art Card giving you great savings every month on different exhibitions and art offers.

For everyone who loves art and visiting galleries, The Independent has produced The Independent Art Card giving you great savings every month on different exhibitions and art offers.

This month, January 2001, you can save up to £50 with our exclusive Art Card offers. This card is valid throughout the year and each month, new galleries and exhibitions will come on board.

The card will inserted in The Independent and The Independent on Sunday on Saturday 13th and Sunday 14th January. It will be valid throughout the year with a range of discounts and different offers available every month. You could save up to £50 in January alone.

Galleries/Exhibitions involved in January are

Art2001

The Victoria and Albert Museum

Tate Liverpool

Saatchi Gallery

Barbican Gallery

Tate Britain

National Portrait Gallery

Hampton Court Palace

And WIN!

All Art Card holders who send their details to The Independent have the chance to win a limited edition Gary Hume print. This competition is open until 28th February 2001.