Lying in the gutter, looking at the stars

I'm trying to decide what to make of the discovery that I am ranked 41,576th in the international art market, according to Art Facts. Should I be pleased that they've finally discovered me or horrified that I have been forcibly recruited into the commoditised art world (albeit as a bottom feeder)?

We're scored, apparently, according to the "attention" we're getting. Which in turn implies that the attention of some institutions and curators is more worthwhile than others. (I was in several curated shows at quite respectable venues before Art Facts deigned to acknowledge my existence.)

On the other hand, as my friend Phil has pointed out, now that I'm ranked, I might get a wildcard entry into one of the big tournaments. Me versus Cindy Sherman (No 7 seed), US Open, New York, 2012?

http://www.artfacts.net/en/artists/top100.html

Misguided in Plymouth

Francis Alys- Paradox of Praxis (still)

Going to Plymouth still feels like an adventure: I always get lost. No map can prepare you for the tangle of impassable road junctions, underpasses, footbridges and pedestrian precincts that make up the city centre. The council recently installed long-overdue pedestrian signage, only to have to have it all turned around to confuse unwary visitors. And half of the street signs seem to be missing.

I was there to catch up with Project Space 11 and their latest venture Peepshow, a video installation that you have to view through a tiny, high-level peephole in a metal shutter in the middle of a busy market.

I have to say it was a suitably excruciating experience for me. On top of the deliberate embarassment engendered by the set up, I was about four inches too short to see in. So I was wobbling around on tiptoe, precariously balanced on a small set of steps. To make matters worse, I couldn't quite get the images in focus, whether my glasses were on or off. I saw a little bit of Melanie Jackson's piece, a series of frames that looked like a plastic model of Mao, a section of road movie and a selection of birds (pigeons, parrots). At least I think that's what I saw.

I also visited possibly the noisiest university library ever. And dropped into Plymouth Arts Centre for a screening of two short documentary films about Francis Alys: When Faith Moves Mountains and Paradox of Praxis.

Laugh? I nearly missed the point.

Richard Dedomenici has an interesting approach to documenting his practice. In his touring lecture Dedomegamix, which visited Exeter Phoenix last night, he presented a record of his performance and activism through a performance.

In fact, Dedomegamix is more stand-up than lecture - it's very funny. And it's more sit-down than stand-up because Dedomenici occupies a executive-style swivel chair as he talks nineteen to the dozen over a fast-paced computer presentation surveying the last 10 years of his work - and a lot more besides.

It's a packed hour which covers everything from 80s' pop videos to censorship, avian collisions with aircraft to minor police corruption, the competing charms of Croydon and Watford, and his favourite falafel sellers.

It's the kind of lecture visiting artists give at art schools, except speeded up and with added extras. Too many extras in fact. Though I didn't stop laughing for the entire hour, I felt slightly cheated. The slick, quickfire, played-for-laughs presentation didn't do full justice to the work, which often has real political bite.

http://dedomenicitemporarywebsite.blogspot.com/

What are artists worth?

In her a-n blog, Emily Speed has spent the past couple of years reflecting on the issue of artists' pay. This isn't something that has concerned me much as an early career artist; I always expected to have to subsidise my first few years with other jobs while I built profile and experience.

However, as Emily has pointed out, if too many artists are willing to take on unpaid opportunities, it undermines the ability of all artists to earn a living. Organisations, who are themselves strapped for cash, are starting to think that artists don't need to be paid.

Guyan Porter has a provocative take on it, calling artists who don't demand pay "the new bourgeoisie".

Having now reached a tipping point, where I've been a practising artist longer than an art student, money is starting to become more of an issue. I'm starting to question the sustainability of my current way of life.

For those looking for guidance, a-n have provided sample day rates, and this minimum fee schedule from CARFAC, a Canadian organisation that represents the interests of artists, might be helpful.

Text message #2

Paul Rooney, Letters that Rot (2010)

As a writer as well as a visual artist, I've often wrestled with the idea of bringing text into my art, but rarely see work that convinces me it's possible to do well.

However, Paul Rooney's new exhibition at Spacex suggests to me it might be worth another try. I haven't yet had a chance to see the narrative film Bellevue in its entirety, or to listen properly to the sound piece Words and Silence, but I was blown away by Letters that Rot and Small Talk at Saturday's opening, both of which are centred on written rather than spoken text.

Letters that Rot is a projected text, emanating from a pile of logs, which describes the 'thoughts' of a tree as it contemplates its own destruction at the hands of a postman. The text runs across the floor and up the wall before disappearing at into darkness at about waist height - so it seems to grow from the ground before it's chopped off. By a happy accident of location, reflections also bounce off the shiny floor and shimmer like rippling water over the projection. It's a fascinating piece of writing that would work well on the printed page, but that is really enhanced by its gallery presentation.

Small Talk seems concerned with the peculiar quality of subtitles. Two projections of a mundane scene at a petrol station sit at right angles to each other and converse (via subtitles) about the circumstances of their making, including a long digression about The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. I love French arthouse cinema but don't speak very good French, so ideas are relayed to me in precisely this unnatural, mediated way. I do sometimes wonder if these films would feel so profound if I didn't have to read them.

These works raise enough clever questions about language and narrative to keep a small army of academics busy, but what really matters is that the texts are rich and entertaining in their own right and the works are good to look at, not just to read. It can be done.

Paul Rooney: Bellevue, 2 October - 27 November 2010, Spacex, 45 Preston Street, ExeterEX1 1DF www.spacex.org.uk

Text message #1

I saw Hannah Silva at the Exeter Poetry Slam last night. She's a great performer and I'm not sure this video does her justice. Mind you, neither did the beery atmosphere of the slam. Reminds me of Beckett. Big time.

http://exeterpoetryfestival.wordpress.com/

Do artists need to get out more?

I found visiting Exeter Contemporary Open (ECO) exhibition a depressing experience. Not because of the quality of the work or the curation, but because of what it tells me about the state of mind of emerging visual artists.

Individually, each of the artists seemed to be doing thoughtful, meaningful work. The show looked great: it was well-organised and coherent. What worried me was the impression it left behind.

First off, almost all of the work was tiny - even pocket-sized. It's been suggested that this miniaturisation may be a reaction against the pompous, macho 'bigger is better' ethos that's ruled art for so long. Sadly, it also seems to indicate self effacement, as if art barely deserves its place in the gallery, let alone society as a whole.

I also think it has much to do with economics. The high cost of studio space means many artists have to work in cramped or shared studios, or even at home. It's simply not possible to make large, messy work when you have no space. Then there are the costs associated with transporting work to and from galleries. Far more practical to make work that you can post. The materials used by the ECO artists were low-cost too: cut-up paper and tape, tiny canvases with meagre applications of dilute paint, an old telly and some sticks.

It wasn't just the materials that were everyday, the subject matter veered strongly in that direction too. For example, there were paintings (lots of paintings) based on half-remembered memories and old snapshots and a film of two metal sauceboats floating in a sink. It's not just me; the short catalogue is awash with words like 'banal', 'ordinary', 'mundane', 'inconsequential', 'anonymous', 'thinned down', 'pared back', 'pared down', 'barely rendered', 'shrunken', 'erased'.

What about the the unusual, the important, the angry, the urgent, the definite? Where is the world outside of our heads? This isn't a criticism of the individual artists or their work. I firmly believe that small and introvert is just as worthwhile as big and extrovert. But when you're presented with a survey of 14 contemporary artists drawn from across the UK and the impression is of a collective whisper, there's something badly wrong.

Open exhibitions are always something of a lottery - for selectors and participants. It may be just chance that brought together such a concentration of the miniature and mundane. Or a particular dynamic between the selectors that led them to a reject more gutsy, spiky, noisy submissions.

But I can't help feeling it's a symptom of where artists are at. Deprived of money and resources, we are stuck behind our own front doors making work with a few lolly sticks and some old string.

Remember, ECO 2010 is a survey of work made before the massive cuts in arts funding. Is it a premonition of how lack of resources will drain the blood from visual art, or is there even worse to come?

Exeter Contemporary Open 2010, 16 September - 3 November 2010, Exeter Phoenix, Gandy Street, Exeter EX4 3LS