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Abbrev:..oAnth.....Motto:...'Nothing to Hide'.#25c3/#CCC.:.. Den Nachgeborenen ein
gemahnendes Vorbild & zur bleibenden Erinnerung - Loc: München (Munich - Germany).
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Start of active postings on this Tumblelog Diary [microblogging -- WP] on Jan 2009,
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May 10 2012
Futuro – the ideal home that wasn't
As the newly restored first edition goes on show, Justin McGuirk explores an emblem of 1960s architectural utopianism. Just don't call it a spaceship
Before the recession and the return of architectural probity, the phrase "like an alien spaceship" was all over architecture journalism like a cheap suit. Faced with anything that didn't look like a brick box, critics and headline writers would ransack their imaginations before inevitably reaching for the extra-terrestrial. Frank Gehry? Future Systems? Zaha Hadid? Yep, spaceship-mongers. Well there's only one building where that simile is inescapable, and that's the Futuro house, designed by Finnish architect Matti Suuronen in 1968.
Commissioned to design a ski lodge for a slope in Finland, Suuronen produced what he and many others believed was the prefabricated home of the future. An 8m-diametre "rotating ellipsoid" – geometry jargon for "like a 1950s Hollywood flying saucer" – the Futuro remains an emblematic image of the 1960s, despite having been a total sideshow as far as architectural historiography is concerned. Though they went into production in both Finland and America, only around 60 were ever produced (no one knows exact numbers). What is certain, however, is that the very first edition, cabin number 001, went on show last week at the Weegee Exhibition Centre in Espoo, 20 minutes from Helsinki. And as I was in Helsinki for the buildup to its festivities as World Design Capital 2012, I paid it a visit.
There it was, painstakingly restored and eye-achingly yellow, resting on its metal frame (the pod house was often helicoptered on to its legs), its hatch door with integrated staircase lowered invitingly. Entering a space that you know well as an image is usually either a shock or an anticlimax. In this case, it was the overpowering odour that struck me. It turned out to be the glue a restorer was using to put the finishing touches to the floor in preparation for the opening that evening. But it heightened the sense of being in a totally artificial environment. Circular rooms are strange in themselves, accustomed as we are to corners, but this plastic womb was more unheimlich than homely. With its built-in chaises longues arranged around a central hearth, it's more like a swinger's fantasy anyway – Playboy magazine featured it as the ultimate bachelor pad and it was used as the setting of a 1970s sci-fi porn film called The Goddesses of Galaxia.
What remains intriguing about Futuro, however, is that it's the closest housing ever came to product design. In the 1960s, the mechanisation of the domestic interior, particularly the kitchen, was in full force, as we accumulated labour-saving gadgets like washing machines and blenders. Suuronen's plastic capsule had the moulded integrity of a mass-produced consumer product, it was the house-as-gadget, a device for the nomadic lifestyle. What it relates to best is the pop space age furniture of the period – the Bubble chair designed by fellow Finn Eero Arnio or Joe Colombo's Boby trolleys – except this was furniture blown up to an architectural scale. Futuro belongs in a tradition of 1960s utopian radicalism. It picks up where Buckminster Fuller's earlier Dymaxion and Wichita houses (also designed for mass-production) left off, and it floats somehow in the same soup as Archigram's comic-book hi-tech or the Metabolists' capsule buildings. But it had none of the urban vision. For this reason, Futuro sits outside the architectural canon, a kitschy one-hit wonder. It was also a commercial failure.
When it came to London as part of the Finnexpo fair in 1968, the Daily Mail wrote (anticipating critics of the future): "This object, looking like everyone else's idea of a flying saucer from outer Space, is the Finnish idea of the perfect weekend cottage." Except that it wasn't. When the original owner of cabin 001, Matti Kuusla, installed it on the wooded shore of Lake Puulavesi, it caused a local outcry. Suuronen's capsule was far from their idea of the perfect country cottage, because the whole point of country cottages was nostalgic ruralism – the back-to-nature birch-whipping in the sauna that was their escape from the city and its encroaching plastic futurism. An American company, Futuro Corporation, had high hopes for it, but it was a flop there too, never rising above the level of the urban freak show – among other things it was used as a bank in the car park of the Woodbridge mall in New Jersey. The oil crisis of 1973, which tripled the price of plastic, was the final nail in the coffin. And there went another piece of 1960s utopianism. Well, if it calls itself the future, it's probably not.
Warhol Double Elvis sells for $37m at Sotheby's auction
Roy Lichtenstein's Sleeping Girl and Ai Weiwei's Sunflowers attract record prices at Sotheby's contemporary art sale in New York
Andy Warhol's Double Elvis sold for $37m (£23m) and works by Roy Lichtenstein and the Chinese dissident artist Ai Weiwei broke their own records at Sotheby's contemporary art sale on Wednesday.
Lichtenstein's Sleeping Girl, depicting a woman with closed eyes and flowing blond hair, fetched $44.9m; Weiwei's one-tonne, handmade porcelain Sunflower Seeds brought $782,500.
Warhol's Double Elvis (Ferus Type), a silver silkscreen image of Elvis Presley depicted as a cowboy, fetched $37,042,500. It had been expected to sell for $30m-$50m. The auction house said it was the first Double Elvis to appear on the market since 1995. Warhol produced a series of 22 images of Elvis. Nine are in museum collections.
Elvis is shown armed and shooting from the hip, with a shadowy and faintly visible double in the background. It was offered for sale by a private American collector, who acquired it in 1977.
The record for a Warhol is $71.7m for his Green Car Crash Green Burning Car I, sold at Christie's in 2007.
Another major work on the auction block Francis Bacon's Figure Writing Reflected in Mirror sold for $44,882,500. The buyers' names for each of the four pieces were not released.
The sale came on the heels of art auction history. Last week the auction house sold a version of Edvard Munch's The Scream for $119.9m, making it the most expensive artwork ever sold at auction.
"The reason for these record-breaking sales is, quite simply, the quality of material on show," said Michael Frahm, a contemporary art adviser at the London-based Frahm Ltd. "The key is quality."
Lichtenstein's Sleeping Girl was one of a series of sexy comic book-inspired images created by the artist in the 1960s, The work was exhibited only once at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles in 1989-90. It was sold by the estate of Los Angeles collectors and philanthropists Beatrice and Phillip Gersh, who were the founding members of MOCA.
Lichtenstein's I Can See the Whole Room! ... And There's Nobody In It! held the previous auction record for the artist. It sold for $43.2m at Christie's in November 2011.
Weiwei's Sunflower Seeds was one of an edition of 10 and was accompanied by a certificate signed by the artist. The ceramic seeds, which can be arranged in myriad shapes, were the subject of a Tate Modern exhibit in 2010. The previous Weiwei auction record was $657,000 for his Chandelier, set at Sotheby's in 2007.
Bacon's Figure Writing, which depicts the artist and his partner, George Dyer, writing at a table, was included in a 1977 Paris exhibition alongside Triptych, a 1976 work by the artist that sold for $86.2m at Sotheby's in 2008. It held the record for any contemporary artwork at auction until Tuesday night when Mark Rothko's Orange, Red, Yellow claimed that title when it sold at Christie's for $86.8m.
The Elvis silkscreen was exhibited at the Ferus Gallery in Los Angeles in 1963, the year it was created. The auction catalogue described the work, based on a movie publicity photo, as "the deification of a contemporary warrior-saint, the towering, pre-eminent idol bearing a deadly weapon as if protecting the mythical world of celebrity itself".
May 09 2012
Daniel Buren's Excentrique(s) takes over Grand Palais
Daniel Buren becomes the fifth artist to take part in Paris's Monumenta project with his kaleidoscope installation
The 2012 Monumenta site-specific commission in the vast, airy nave of Paris's Grand Palais is like being plunged into a pool of coloured light. Daniel Buren is the fifth artist to take on the annual Monumenta project in the belle epoch Grand Palais, originally built for the 1900 World Fair. It is a far more daunting site than Tate Modern's Turbine Hall. If the scale doesn't get to you, the architecture does.
A canopy of hundreds of horizontal circles, each touching the next, some larger, some smaller, some a little higher, some lower, fill the space. Each open steel O is stretched with a membrane of translucent plastic film, either in blue, yellow, orange or green. These are supported by black and white vertical posts, so many that they become a forest, half-drowned in colour and shadow.
Buren's colour choices are determined by the fact that these are the only colours the film comes in, and the order of his colours is dependent on the alphabetical order of their names. He works with the given. Even the height of the canopy is determined by the minimum ceiling heights of Paris apartments.
The building arches above, visible through and between the abutting circles, which veil the sky beyond. Being here has a submarine quality. You feel in the depths, shoaling and drifting with fellow visitors beneath the huge volume of contained light and space above. I'm like a fish down here, gulping coloured air.
Rather than "contesting" the architecture or "challenging" the viewer, to use the banal phraseology of museum types, Buren's work is at the mercy of the light from the Paris sky, the scudding clouds, the slanting sunlight as it enters the building.
At night, the space will be swept by roving spotlights, and. all the while, rotating audio speakers send sound roaming through the nave; voices in many languages counting and running through the alphabet, to the odd snatch of tinkly music. The sound is fairly unobtrusive, but I'd be happier without it.
The overall effect is quite magical, but does Buren do more than decorate the space? It is all very ambient, and very pretty (not a word I often use in a positive way) but, the longer one stays, the more the visual complications of his project multiply. The posts take on the colours of the light, which sings along their vertical edges. When the sun is out, the world is reflected upside down above us, and the circles of light projected on to the floor come into disconcertingly sharp focus.
Beneath the building's central dome, Buren has made a clearing, where little circular mirrored podiums reflect the roof and sky beyond. You can stand on these dusty mirrors and examine the pattern of blue film he's fixed to the top of the dome. You can also catch a view of your own crotch.
For some, such inadvertent pleasures may provide the main attraction. But let's not underestimate pleasure. It is at the heart of Buren's benign art. He's had dinghies with striped sails racing on Grasmere, made art from bunting and awnings, and turned buildings inside out with visual conundrums. There's logic in his method and eccentricity in his choices. That said, his practical, pragmatic approach makes other artists' aesthetic choices and decision-making appear somehow arbitrary by comparison.
Buren's art always makes me feel he truly enjoys what he does and gets a great deal from pitting himself against limits and constraints.
The architecture almost always consumes whatever is in here, whether that's exhibitions, art and trade fairs, planes or train locomotives. Last year, Anish Kapoor inserted a gobsmacking behemoth, looking much like a daunting sex toy.
But it isn't so much the building that is a challenge, as what the previous four artists have accomplished here, all of whom have been highly established male artists. The best has been Richard Serra's 2008 Promenade, a work that still lives in my head.
Next time, Monumenta has to be given to a woman. Nevertheless, Buren's project makes you very aware of the act of looking. It is not at all monumental in the way some previous projects have been. It is a work dedicated to visual and corporeal pleasure – the not-so-simple pleasure of being here. It almost had me dancing for a minute, except the song in my head was The Windmills of Your Mind, a deeply eccentric song which, I recall, was composed by a Frenchman.
Thomas Kinkade: the secret life and strange death of art's king of twee
The works of the Painter of Light have been reproduced on furniture and inspired the building of a whole village, but the verdict into his death reveals a bleaker picture
In death, the man who at his peak claimed to be the world's most successful living artist perhaps achieved the sort of art-world excess he craved.
On Tuesday, the coroner's office in Santa Clara, California, announced that the death of Thomas Kinkade, the Painter of Light™, purveyor of kitsch prints to the masses, was caused by an accidental overdose of alcohol and Valium. For good measure, a legal scrap has emerged between Kinkade's ex-wife (and trustee of his estate) and his girlfriend.
Who could have imagined that behind so many contented visions of peace, harmony and nauseating goodness lay just another story of deception, disappointment and depravity, fuelled by those ever-ready stooges, Valium and alcohol?
Kinkade was a self-made phenomenon, with his prints (according to his company) hanging in one in 20 American homes. At his height, in 2001, Kinkade generated $130m (£81m) in sales. Kinkade's twee paintings of cod-traditional cottages, lighthouses, gardens, gazebos and gates sold by the million through a network of Thomas Kinkade galleries, owned by his company, and through a parallel franchise operation. At their peak (between 1995 and 2005) there were 350 Kinkade franchises across the US, with the bulk in his home state of California. You would see them in roadside malls in small towns, twinkly lights adorning the windows, and in bright shopping centres, sandwiched between skatewear outlets and nail bars.
But these weren't just galleries. They were the Thomas Kinkade experience – minus the alcohol and Valium, of course. Clients would be ushered into a climate-controlled viewing room to maximise the Kinkadeness of the whole place, and their experience. Some galleries offered "master highlighters", trained by someone not far from the master himself, to add a hand-crafted splash of paint to the desired print and so make a truly unique piece of art, as opposed to the framed photographic print that was the standard fare.
The artistic credo was expressed best in the 2008 movie Thomas Kinkade's Christmas Cottage. Peter O'Toole, earning a crust playing Kinkade's artistic mentor, urges the young painter to "Paint the light, Thomas! Paint the light!".
Kinkade's art also went beyond galleries through the "Thomas Kinkade lifestyle brand". This wasn't just the usual art gallery giftshop schlock: Kinkade sealed a tie-in with La-Z-Boy furniture (home of the big butt recliner) for a Kinkade-inspired range of furniture. But arguably his only great artwork was "The Village, a Thomas Kinkade Community", unveiled in 2001. A 101-home development in Vallejo, outside San Francisco, operating under the slogan: "Calm, not chaos. Peace, not pressure," the village offers four house designs, each named after one of Kinkade's daughters. Plans for further housing developments, alas, fell foul of the housing crisis.
In the years before his death, Kinkade's business and his life took a battering. There were allegations of malpractice, and his company declared bankruptcy, unable to pay its creditors following a series of court judgments ordering him to pay $860,000 for defrauding the owners of two failed franchises.
Following his separation from his wife and spiralling alcoholism, Kinkade's behaviour became erratic: he allegedly caused a scene at a Siegfried & Roy show in Las Vegas by repeatedly shouting "Codpiece!" at the ageing illusionists. He also engaged in what he termed "ritual territory marking" at a California Disneyland hotel, urinating on a Winnie the Pooh figure.
Kinkade's death went largely unnoted in the art world. There were no lengthy obituaries in the quality press, critics did not line up to extol the beauty or the influence of his art. Maybe they missed a trick. For while Kinkade's work is at best humdrum and technically adequate, its popularity tells us something about his public, about a desperate yearning for nostalgia that pervades parts of American life, a return to the safe glow of some imagined past.
"It's not the world we live in," Kinkade said of his painting, "it's the world we wished we live in. People wish they could find that stream, that cabin in the woods."
And it could be that with his mastery of the market, and his understanding of how to sell his work – "When I got saved, God became my art agent," he once said – Kinkade was the natural heir to the apostle of mass production, Andy Warhol.
"There's been million-seller books and million-seller CDs," Kinkade explained. "But there hasn't been, until now, million-seller art. We have found a way to bring to millions of people, an art that they can understand."
Sketchnoting the world of data and design
Written reports of conferences and events are so passe: the future is 'sketchnoting' - producing notes as illustrations. Eva-Lotta Lamm has spent the past few years sketchnoting dozens of key design and tech conferences. Now you can see the results
Tate announce 2013 programme
Art lovers will be able to enjoy a major retrospective of Roy Lichtenstein's work and find out how LS Lowry was influenced by the French, as the Tate galleries reveal next year's programmes
Comic strips, matchstick men and David Bowie will hit the Tate in 2013, along with Marc Chagall, Gary Hume and Paul Klee. The four galleries – Tate Britain, Tate Modern, Tate St Ives and Tate Liverpool – have announced their programmes for next year, which include the first major retrospective of Roy Lichtenstein's work for 20 years and a show that will demonstrate how LS Lowry was influenced by French painting.
Lichtenstein, whose comic-strip-style paintings made him one of the forefathers of pop art, will be shown at London's Tate Modern from February. The exhibition will include landmark works including Whaam!, his famous 1963 picture of a fighter plane being shot by another, and Drowning Girl, both appropriated from contemporary comics, as well as the Artist's Studio series which saw him bring his graphic, pop style to his own surroundings and other real-life art works. It will also display lesser known late work including a series of female nudes and Chinese landscapes.
The gallery's autumn show will be dedicated to Klee, a pivotal figure in 20th century art, who taught at the Bauhaus school and whose intense, radiant paintings, replete with symbolism and references to the unconscious, draw on cubism, surrealism and primitive art. It will be the first Klee exhibition to take place in the UK for more than 10 years.
The Lowry show will take place at London's Tate Britain from next June, the first of its kind since the artist's death in 1976. Last year, the actor Ian McKellen accused the Tate of neglecting the artist, after claiming that it had shown only one of the 23 Lowry works it owns – a claim the Tate denies. Though Lowry's images of matchstick-style workers in industrial landscapes are some of the most famous in British art, the exhibition promises to reveal how he was influenced by 19th-century French painters such as Camille Pissarro and Maurice Utrillo.
Tate Britain promises to unveil its refurbished galleries in early summer next year, including a re-hang that has already aroused some controversy, with Burlington magazine claiming that it was prioritising modern works over pre-20th century ones. It will also stage an exhibition of work by Hume alongside that of Patrick Caulfield, who died in 2005.
Tate Liverpool will approach another aspect of popular British art with its show Glam! The Performance and Style, which promises to demonstrate the influence of the glam rock era, from 1971 to 1975, on other art forms in Europe and America. The gallery will also host Chagall: A Modern Master, the first exhibition of the Russian artist's work for 15 years.
Open thread: A new audience code of conduct
What should be included on our new new audience code of conduct?
We are writing a new audience code of conduct. Leo Benedictus has spoken to our arts critics and compiled their suggested list of behaviour that should be outlawed in every cinema, playhouse and concert venue across the land and judging by the comments left under his articles, this is a subject on which you have a lot to say. So, this open thread is your chance to banish antisocial audience behaviour, or at least air your bugbears. Rustling sweet papers, late comers, Tweeting; what behaviour would you like to banish? Please add your suggestions to the thread below and we'll pull the best argued and/or most popular suggestions into the list.
Here's what's been suggested so far:
Don't throw ANY liquids
Suggested by ChristyL:
'throwing away hideously overpriced beer at rock gigs is just weird. Spot fines should be instituted to enable the impoverished to have a drink.'
Ban heckling
Suggested by oldirtybusstop:
'Heckling at a stand-up show is neither expected nor acceptable. NOBODY goes to a stand-up show to hear the audience talk. If somebody interrupts they should be ejected from the club/theatre immediately. Heckling is not an art. 99% of every audience would prefer it if nobody heckled, why try and pretend that stand-up is some sort of gladiatorial arena, it's a spoken word performance not a battle to the death.'
No fondling
Suggested by David91:
'People are increasingly treating both the cinema and theatre as if they were watching at home. Hence, they text, talk, eat, sleep and, on occasions, fondle each other. It's like going back in time to the Pit at The Globe when the unwashed masses jostled each other, holding a Subway in one hand and a coke in the other'
If you're bored, leave
Suggested by Ortho:
'I've pretty much stopped going to the opera and to concerts because I don't want to pay a fortune for a seat and then have to listen to some moron in another seat talking all bloody night.'
List updated at 15:23 with suggestions from Twitter and the thread below
Respect the boundaries
Suggested on Twitter by @TonysConsultant:
@guardianstage @churlishmeg #stage Remember people sit either side of you. Don't fill intoadjoining seatas Jonathan Ross did to me.
— David Balcombe (@TonysConsultant) May 9, 2012
Only silent cold food allowed
Suggested by katypie:
'I'd like clarity on the eating issue: what's acceptable and what's not? Clearly sweets and ice cream must be otherwise theatres wouldn't sell them. But where's the line? Not hot food, obviously. I recently had a date pull out a large baguette from a rustly paper bag while at a show and felt very embarrassed...my instinct is that anything small, discreet (noiseless) and coming in little bite-sizes is probably acceptable, but anything that borders on a meal or picnic (sandwiches!), not ok.'
No coughing or blowing noses
Suggested by joolsbaby:
'keep your bloody cold germs at home too. No one wants to hear you coughing and sniffing through a performance.'
Concentrate on the performance
Suggested on Twitter by @acwilson:
@guardianstage Parents who bring kids to an event and then talk through it/read their newspapers/fall asleep. (My events are that good...)
— Anna Wilson (@acwilsonwriter) May 9, 2012
Whaam! Prepare to be hit by Roy Lichtenstein's finest comic book hour
The retrospective of Lichtenstein's work at London's Tate Modern will display the wit and glorious contradictions of his works
Roy Lichtenstein's Whaam! is an eerie modern version of the battle paintings that once decorated European palaces and council chambers. It is on a grand scale, split across two panels that together measure more than four metres in width. An American fighter unleashes a spurt of fire that blows up an enemy plane, giving the pilot no chance of escape. It is a picture of violence, but the violence is experienced third hand. The painting is meticulously translated from a DC War comic, the dots and bold colours of the original recreated by hand on an inflated scale. Our response to it is ambivalent. Is this a celebration of boys' comics, a comment on their glorification of war, a metaphor for the chilled and mechanised nature of modern killing – or nothing so serious?
It is, whatever it is, one of the most powerful monuments of 1960s pop art. Painted in 1963, Whaam! has been in the Tate collection since 1966 and has long been one of the most famous modern masterpieces in Britain. It is probably Lichtenstein's finest hour. We will have a chance to see it in the context of this artist's lifetime achievement when a retrospective of his work from the Art Institute of Chicago arrives at London's Tate Modern in 2013.
Lichtenstein made realistic paintings of an unreal world. His art is gloriously paradoxical – and the cleverest paradox is that, as in Whaam!, the unreal world turns out to have echoes in the actual one. Very early on, he hit on his comic book subject matter, and this gave his art a look it never lost – an enlarged, precise graphic style that incongruously translates efficient designs created for the page on to the generous scale of American abstract art. Like all the pop generation in America, he was working in the shadow of the abstract expressionists who in the 1940s and 50s widened the reach of painting, destroying the difference between the easel picture and the mural. Lichtenstein plays wittily on that epic scale, by filling it with comic book images that are the very opposite of the contemplative numinous clouds of Mark Rothko's visions.
In Whaam! this becomes a joke about freedom. The abstract expressionists have sometimes been accused of serving as propagandists for American culture in the cold war. The truth is more interesting. Jackson Pollock, the artist who defined abstract expressionism in the public eye, was indeed enacting freedom in the way he painted – the freedom of jazz music. With jazz 78s playing, he moved around a canvas laid on the ground, flicking and dripping paint. It was an improvisation, like Charlie Parker playing sax. In Whaam!, this free art is mockingly parodied. Lichtenstein carefully, accurately recreates an image – and that image shows a man finding freedom in machines. As he fires, the pilot obtains a sense of release. Like Jack the Dripper, he expresses himself – but does it by pressing a button.
Whaam! is still, as it was then, a comic image of American male freedom.
Saatchi captures the confusion of contemporary photography
The Saatchi Gallery's messy, sprawling Out of Focus show reveals uncomfortable truths about the current state of photography
I have visited Out of Focus: Photography, the Saatchi Gallery's big contemporary photography show twice now. The second time around, it seemed, if anything, even more of a messy sprawl of styles, strategies and conceptual conceits. The title, Out of Focus, may have been meant ironically, but it takes on a more pointed meaning if you approach the show as a mirror of the fractured world of contemporary practice.
For me, the most coherent thing about the show is William A Ewing's catalogue essay, which begins by stating the obvious – "Photography is a very strange place to be right now, either inside looking out (the producer) or outside looking in (the public)" – then takes us on a humorous journey though the various continents that currently make up "the entire World of Photography": Commercia, Documentaria, Amateuria, Artistica and Artcontemporanea. As Ewing rightly points out, these continents view each other across vast oceans of mutual disdain. Many commercial photographers, for instance, think documentary photographers are hopelessly old-fashioned, while the latter view the former as corporate whores in thrall to the filthy lucre of advertising. Both watch the continent of Amateuria, "a continent so vast it has never been properly mapped, never mind explored", with a mixture of pity and contempt that cannot quite conceal their nervousness.
Artistica too, the realm of conceptualism and fine art, is currently under threat from the Artcontemporanea arrivistes – artists who use photography having once looked down on it as an inferior form. At the Saatchi Gallery, this "disunited nation" jostles for space, though the majority of the world on display comes from the continents of Artistica and Contemporanea. Mikhael Subotzky is the token documentary photographer, for instance, his large format pictures of the grim small town of Beaufort West in South Africa hanging desolately next to the conceptual pranksterism of Broomberg and Chanarin.
This is as political it gets on planet Saatchi, a rarified place where the main thrust is towards the conceptual. There is a lot of photography about photography: Jennifer West's enlarged strips of film of surfers, all gaudy pinks and blues, point towards both psychedelia and Eadweard Muybridge's photographs of movement. Mat Collishaw's big mosaics, made of ceramic, cement, wood and paint, suggest pixellated computer images. John Stezaker's photographic collages bring new life to old photographs found in film and theatre archives, postcards and catalogues.
There is contemporary portraiture and landscape aplenty, too. In the first big room, there are perhaps too many of Katy Grannan's hard painterly studies of old people caught in unforgiving sunlight on the sidewalks of Los Angeles and San Francisco, just as, upstairs, there are too few – just one, in fact – of Elina Brotherus's stark studies of human alienation. In both instances, the power of the work is undercut. It was good to see Hannah Starkey's mixture of street photography and participatory portraiture again, which seemed quite humble in intent (she finds an intriguing spot then asks passers-by to become part of the picture) in comparison to the work around it.
The most crafted work here is Sohei Nishino's series of city dioramas – New York, Tokyo, Paris – made up of thousands of small photographs combined to create a surreal whole. They are mind-boggling in their obsessiveness and recall those wonderful wrong medieval maps of unexplored territories.
Too much of the work on display is too self-consciously arty or referential, and seems already peculiarly dated. More problematic still, there is simply too much on show to make the whole seem in any way formally unified. This is Saatchiland, though, so that was probably never the point.
What we are looking at is a collection parading as an exhibition. It shouts and screams and sometimes whispers for your attention, but you may, like me, find your mind constantly wandering – and wondering at the sheer size and range of it all. It is a glimpse at some of the continents that make up the world of contemporary photography, but the choices often seem random and the staging haphazard. A big mess of a show, then, but one worth seeing – if only to have your confusion about the current state of photography confirmed.
Now see this
At Gallery One and a Half, Laura Pannack is showing her – no pun intended – revealing photographs of Young British Naturists. As always, it is the casual, everyday nature of the nudity that is most surreal.
Martin Parr and Tom Wood's images of the working class on holiday in new Brighton, The Last Resort, were first shown to great acclaim in 1986. This glimpse of an already lost time is now on show at the Third Floor Gallery in Cardiff.
Edgar Martins's series This Is Not a House is at the Wapping Project, Bankside, London. It explores the fallout of the sub-prime mortgage industry in America. It caused considerable controversy when it was revealed that he had "digitally reshaped" some of the photographs.
From the archive, 9 May 1994: Edvard Munch's stolen Scream recovered in undercover sting
Scotland Yard detectives played a key role in the undercover sting operation which recovered Edvard Munch's stolen masterpiece from a south Norway hotel
• From the archive blog: Edvard Munch's worthless art
Scotland Yard detectives played a key role in the undercover sting operation which recovered the stolen Norwegian painting, The Scream, it was revealed yesterday.
Norwegian police found Edvard Munch's masterpiece virtually undamaged at a hotel in south Norway on Saturday. Three Norwegians were later arrested.
According to the daily newspaper Dagenbladet, two Metropolitan Police officers fooled the thieves by pretending they would buy the painting for £250,000.
Norwegian police had contacted London shortly after the theft and the Norwegians worked closely with Chief Inspector John Butler, head of Scotland Yard's Arts and Antiques squad.
"While John Butler worked with [Norwegian police inspector] Leif Lier...two of Butler's agents had already been in touch with people who claimed they could get hold of The Scream," the paper said.
Scotland Yard issued a brief statement confirming it had co-operated but left the Norwegians to release any further details. Knut Berg, director of the National Gallery in Oslo, said the painting had a microscopic pinprick but he described the work as undamaged.
"The thieves must have handled it with extreme caution," he said. "It was wonderful to see the painting again and we hope to have it back on the wall on Wednesday," Mr Berg said.
Two men, filmed by video, carried out the theft on February 12, on the day of the opening of the Winter Olympics at Lillehammer. They smashed a window, grabbed the painting and disappeared in less than a minute.
"I am extremely happy and relieved that one of our greatest and most well-known art treasures has been recovered. This has been an eye-opener," said minister of culture, Aase Kleveland.
The painting, which art experts say would be impossible for thieves to sell on the open market, was found in Aasgaarstrand, a beach resort where Munch had a cottage and where he painted some of his most famous works.
British police are in the forefront of tracking down Europe's stolen art, partly because an estimated 60% of it ends up in London.
[A pastel version of The Scream sold for a record $119.9m (£74m) at an auction in New York on 3 May.]
Stormy Waters
A Liverpudlian response to Rowan Moore's criticisms of the Liverpool Waters plan
Liverpool is still one of the most deprived cities in the UK, but it does have an economy that is slowly improving. Only last week, it jumped to fifth place in the table of cities most-visited from overseas. The 1,000 new jobs at the Jaguar Land Rover plant in Halewood are another welcome boost. Yet the fact that some 35,000 people applied for those vacancies shows how it still has a long way to go.
This is why ambitious projects like Liverpool Waters, the controversial plan for new offices, homes and other facilities around decaying northern dockland, are important. The biggest planning application ever submitted in Britain, seems on a fanastastically inhuman scale which naturally makes people uneasy, including The Observer's London-based Rowan Moore; but sometimes, especially when you're at the bottom, you have to think big.
When Liverpool's early leaders built the world's first enclosed wet dock, which opened in 1715, they mortgaged their entire modestly-sized town to build it. It was a big risk that paid off; so was Liverpool's pioneering of the world's first intercity railway, to Manchester, in the face of many who said that it would never work. Such risk-taking helped to build Liverpool. But it is something we seem to have lost over the last forty years.
There has also been a knee-jerk reaction against Liverpool Waters as a scheme of that instinctively mistrusted group, property developers, in this case Peel Holdings. This can be justified, as more often than not such organisations focus on profit above all else. Yet if property development for profit had never happened here, the historic docks that we now admire would have never been built.
Grade 1-listed Albert Dock was not built to look nice. It was built to make money as a fireproof shed, that in 1846 was starkly modern and was criticised at the time by local historian J.A Picton for its brutal mediocrity.
Neither would have the famous 'Three Graces' on the city's Pier Head. Built on redundant dockland, the Graces were the Canary Wharf or Liverpool Waters of their day; early examples of corporate headquarters built in the latest trendy styles to aggrandise the businesses that constructed them. They were not universally popular with the critics at the time either. The Royal Liver Building was dismissed by Charles Reilly, professor of architecture at Liverpool University, thus:
A mass of grey granite to the cornice, it rose to the sky in two quite unnecessary towers, which can symbolise nothing but the power of advertisement.
Today's aggressive heritage lobby and aesthete critics are fond of proclaiming Liverpool's past innovations and achievements, with the hindsight which Reilly could not have. But they are as blinkered as he could be to the city's need to continue to innovate and develop. The threatened loss of the UNESCO World Heritage status which covers part of the site, if the development goes ahead, would be a blow. But the pluses and minuses of having the status are hard to quantify. Dresden in Germany also lost its World Heritage Site status when it built an important modern bridge. It remains a prosperous tourist magnet.
Meanwhile such critics seem content to oppose Liverpool Waters without offering any realistic alternative plan for this huge area, not even a notional one. That would condemn the historic structures in the northern docks to continue to rot for want of money or a reason for being. Nearly all these old buildings would be restored as part of Liverpool Waters, alongside new developments.
I believe that the Waters should be compared to Liverpool 1, the new shopping and leisure area developed by the Grosvenor Estate and opened four years ago. It too was heavily criticised during construction, but vox pop on its streets today and you would find few who would want to go back to the 1970s Moat House hotel, the wasteland car parks, concrete Paradise Street Bus station and the Argos Superstore that used to stand there.
Liverpool 1 created thousands of jobs and helped the city to leap from 14th to 5th in the UK's retail rankings, while not, as many predicted, destroying the traditional shopping areas of Church Street and Bold Street. It has also attracted dozens of new shops to Liverpool at a time when town centres nationally are collapsing, the development creating the demand. I didn't like Liverpool 1 while it was in gestation, but now I find it hard to argue now against its success in transforming Liverpool's town centre for the better.
I'm not Peel's PR. They have some questionable business arrangements, tend to rely heavily on outside investment and often build dull architecture; but again I turn to the critics and ask: what else do you suggest? No one else has any workable plans for the northern dock. So do we go for it? or do we duck the risk, let Liverpool's economy struggle along and allow an historic part of our city to rot indefinitely while wistfully hoping for something else?
Even as a supporter of the Waters, I admit that I will believe it all when I see it. But I never would have believed the developments that have already happened in contemporary Liverpool were possible a few years ago. The city and the Government should take a leaf out of our history and go for it. Critics should meanwhile put pen to paper or easel, to show us they think could go in its place.
Kenn Taylor is a writer and journalist based in Liverpool. You can follow him here and here.
May 08 2012
Architect Santiago Calatrava accused of 'bleeding Valencia dry'
Leftists accuse top architect of raking in escalating amounts of cash from regional government to build giant cultural park
Stunning bridges, airports and daring buildings have made him famous around the world, but now Santiago Calatrava is facing fierce criticism for his dealings with the local government in his home region of Valencia.
The architect, who designed the roof of the Athens Olympic stadium, is under fire from political opponents of the conservative-run authority, and a website highlighting fees paid to him by Spanish taxpayers has been launched.
Calatrava has charged some €100m (£81m) to the Valencia government, according to the website, established by the leftwing Esquerra Unida party. The party says it has managed to see copies of bills paid by the People's party regional government to the architect, who is now based in Zurich.
Esquerra Unida says contracts were given to him via "an unpublicised negotiating system establishing his payments as a percentage of the final cost of each project, which doubled or tripled in respect to the original budgets".
The criticism comes as Spain's regional governments struggle to justify a series of architectural white elephants, including museums and empty airports, built during a decade-long economic boom.
Calatrava's dazzling City of the Arts and Science, a series of space-age buildings in Valencia, is at the centre of the complaints about his dealings with a local government mired in corruption cases – none of which involve the architect.
The new website, called calatravatelaclava – which roughly translates as "Calatrava bleeds you dry" – alleges that the culture campus has cost more than €1bn. "It has cost €1.1bn so far and is still unfinished with various problems in the way it functions," Esquerra Unida said.
Although it was originally much praised, the ever-expanding centre has drawn the ire of some architectural critics as well as that of political opponents of the Valencia government. Esquerra Unida also points to Calatrava earning several million euros from the regional government for designing projects that never came to fruition.
Calatrava has not answered, but several newspapers published his response to the growing wave of criticism over the weekend.
"The attitude of those who want to take advantage of the current economic climate to criticise a project whose benefits no one has challenged is simply indescribable," he said.
Calatrava reportedly said he reserved the right to take legal action against those campaigning against him.
The Spanish architect has designed airports in Bilbao and Denver, as well as sets for the New York City Ballet.
Some commentators have accused the Valencian government of spoiling the architect. "Today the City of the Arts and Sciences is sinking under its own excesses," commented Miquel Alberlola in El País. "That is where the architect died and the businessman was born."
The loss-making complex has done nothing to improve the reputation of Valencia's government, whose large budget deficits have helped damage confidence in Spain's economy and whose bonds ratings agencies have already reduced to junk status.
The Spanish prime minister, Mariano Rajoy, has blamed overspending by regional governments for the austerity being driven through to reduce the budget deficit.
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