A moment of suspension. Astronauts, planets, thoughts and forms. An ambivalent curvature of revolution. An upside down country, holding salty seas below, what is under Australia? Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev wants to know.
The 2008 Biennale of Sydney, ‘Revolutions, Forms that turn’ will splash into Sydneysiders lives this winter, bringing a radical and incredible woman with it. Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev, the 2008 Artistic Director, works in a pattern of two year cycles, focusing her energy on a particular artist, digging deeply into their work to produce a considered and extensive exhibition, such as the William Kentridge MCA show, of 2006. Her cycle propels her into a rebirth of expansive international art. Lucky for Sydney, she is here creating the 16th Biennale of Sydney, which opens June 14th, 2008. Her curatorship is of international importance and esteem. Over the past 15 years she has focused her expertise on exhibitions of solo artists including William Kentridge, Pierre Huyghe, Franz Kline and Janet Cardiff. Christov-Bakargiev also held the role of Senior Curator at PS.1 Contemporary Art Centre, New York from 1999-2001, where she co-curated Greater New York and organised group and solo exhibitions including Around 1984: A Look at Art in the Eighties and Animations. In 1993 she was a co-curator of Antwerp '93: European Capital of Culture. Currently she is the Chief Curator of the Castello di Rivoli Museum of Contemporary Art, in her hometown of Turin, Italy. Her expertise also cover numerous publications, including editing the definitive book on Arte Povera, a monograph on William Kentridge and extensive writings on Italian and International art.
Christov-Bakargiev is an impressive thinker, quite radical in her almost anarchic views of the world. She is fluent in five languages, dynamic and expressive. Her ability to inspire and lead is obvious in her engaging manner and philosophies. To speak with her about art is to see a limitless sky, full of black holes and undiscovered universes. She believes that Australia is in a pre revolutionary state, after the Howard years, Australia seems to be waking up and taking notice again. Her strong knowledge of history informs her beliefs that all nations have political ebbs and flows and that here in Australia we are on the verge of something radical. Her biennale tapes into this slow flowing river of collective consciousness of revolution. “Revolutions – forms that turn” is about tricking the system, about misunderstanding and questioning a given. Christov-Bakargiev sees that our freedom in Australia is at stake, she offers us as an open path for change and encourages doubt, uncertainties and failure, as a path to freedom.
In a culture, which does not acknowledge failure as a valid and interesting alternative to success, Christov-Bakargiev sees that art plays a major role in exploring failure. The history of the Biennale of Sydney, and Biennales internationally has been one of failures and success. Dr Charles Merewether spoke openly and wrote about the failure of his 2006 Biennale of Sydney, Zones of Contact which dealt with ‘events, ideas and concerns that shape our lives today, as well as our sense of both past and Future’. Merewether has over 20 years experience in curating in the United States, Europe, South America and Australia. He complained that Sydney failed to become involved in the 2006 Biennale, that discussion in the community was not achieved and that in general the public failed to engage with the works.
In Sydney, the criticisms and usually negative critiques of the glitzy Biennale, are published in a journal by Woolloomooloo’s own Artspace. Just a few weeks after the Biennale opens the Critical Reader is released as a series of essays on the relevance, effectiveness and value of the works and theme.
Internationally failure and negative press are part and parcel of the Biennale circuit. Robert Storr, the artistic director and chief commissioner of the Venice Biennale in 2007, spoke in an article about his time in Venice of the "Pride, pleasure but also great frustration" in delivering an exhibition with a world renowned reputation and expectations. Storr is particularly scathing of the financial operations in the Venice Biennale, explaining that he spent a good deal of time raising several hundred thousand euros from patrons, arts councils and foundations, to cover the costs of artists travel and living expenses, as well as for the production of works. Christov-Bakargiev echoed these frustrations, admitting she spends half her time looking for financial benefactors for the biennale. She reminiscences for the past, when biennales were a place purely concerned with experimentation, formation and the discussion of ideas, were very attractive. These days she sees the Biennale has two parts, both hungry for matter. One is the previously mentioned artistic and cultural values and the other is marketing, tourism and budgets.
The international biennale frenzy (over 100 biennales and triennials now run regularly) that Christov-Bakargiev has termed ‘Biennale Syndrome’ is a reaction to both a globalisation of art and a realisation from politicians and tourism boards, that a Biennale in your city, can be a quick fix to cultural voids.
In an attempt to create both radical and subtle political upheaval, Christov-Bakargiev has chosen her theme carefully. “Revolutions – Forms that turn” is literally and metaphorically about the word revolve, which is to “follow a curvature around and return to where one began”. Christov-Bakargiev explores the gap in meaning between “Revolutions” and the second part of the phrase “Forms that turn”. She explains how “the first term collapses (is over turned) into the second and within that gap perspective suddenly shifts, as when a joke is understood – causing unexpected laughter, a release of tension and a collapse into the comic dimension of radical and absolute presence. It is a space of rotation, confusion, revolt, insubordination, anarchy and disruption of order, a space of ‘revolution’.” (Biennale of Sydney, Press Release 2008)
At the 2008 Biennale of Sydney we can expect to see the artists in live “encounters” as Christov-Bakargiev calls them. The influx of live performances from artists such as William Kentridge, Mike Parr and Dora Garcia, are part of Christov-Bakargiev’s want for the exhibition to involve as many “alive” artworks and artists as possible.Just Because Everything is Different Does Not Mean That Anything Has Changed is Dora Garcia’s contribution to the revolutions of this year’s biennale. The Sydney Opera House plays host to the 45 min performance, which is in memory of legendary stand-up comedian Lenny Bruce. After Bruce was invited to Australia in the early 1960s, he began his first show with the welcoming phrase “What a fucking wonderful audience!”, much to his and the audience’s dismay, he was immediately arrested and deported back to the UK on the grounds of obscenity. This forbidden and imagined performance was reinterpreted by seminal performance maker, Dora Garcia. It is a perfect example of Christov-Bakargiev’s impulse to create a dialogue between old and new artists.
There are many ways to become involved with this Biennale and perhaps meet the charismatic, creative and personable Artistic Director, Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev. If you happen to be over 80 and interested in punk bands you can audition to be a part of Christoph Büchel’s, No Future performance project. His project invites four older gentlemen to create a punk band, who will rehearse and perform one song only: God Save The Queen of 1976, from the Sex Pistols. If you are interested in something with a little more range, why not consider volunteering at the biennale? Volunteering in this prestigious and complex art festival is an excellent option for people with an interest in the arts. There are positions available in every field, from online content to artist’s assistants, research, well as education and public programming assistants. All volunteers receive training, practical support and guidance as well as invitations to all the great parties and celebrations of this fabulous art event. Visit Biennale of Sydney to find out more about this contemporary art event in Sydney, and how to be a passer-by, involved volunteer or an active and engaged audience member. Sydney is in for a whirl wind program this winter, with fractals of dialogue about art and revolutions swarming around. I would recommend being swept off your feet, turned once, turned twice and returned to this upside down country with a slightly dizzy, yet satisfied feeling.
Sex and art have always played ball. But what happens when the lure of titillation delivers an unexpected awakening of creative ambition?
“I don’t want strippers” is the edict faced by many a bridal party when planning the critically important hens’ night. Could this be why every weekend The Artful Hen is booked out hosting back-to-back two-hour classes from 10:30am through to 10:30pm? Launched in 2001, The Artful Hen is the concept of Sydney artist and teacher Rayni Bonne who began with one studio, one teacher and one model. These days, the business runs in two cities, five venues, employs six regular models and seven teachers while Bonne spends her time fielding ceaseless daily booking requests and inquiries.
For those students who know what they’re in for, the mood upon arrival at the studio is a mix of fear and “BRING IT ON!” Meanwhile, the oblivious hen (a vision in taffeta,”L” plates and the odd handcuff) spends the first five minutes staring curiously at the easels whilst sipping champagne through a penis-shaped straw.
The classes begin with each intrepid student ‘fessing up as to whether they’ve had any previous drawing experience. Ninety-nine percent of the time the classes are full of women for whom the thought of picking up a pencil, let alone using it to sketch a nude man, is outside the realm of everyday experience.
Just when the class is seated, introduced and comfortable – out walks a naked man. There is nothing quite like a nude male sneaking up behind a group of unsuspecting ladies to catapult the atmosphere to new, hilarious heights.
But this is an art class — and art is the focus. Any blushing and giggling subsides as the party shifts into class mode and sneaking peeks at the “nude guy” become intentional studies of the human form. With no time to waste, the classes plunge into drawing with a blind contour exercise where each student draws the model without looking at their page.
“The class perception of nudity shifts after the blind contour drawings, because they are suddenly given permission to look”, says Ben, a model with The Artful Hen. “The joke stops being about me being naked and becomes about their drawings instead”.<./blockquote>
Bonne began the classes as a favour to a friend for their hens’ night. But she’s persisted because she loves knowing that these classes introduce drawing to adults who’d never considered themselves able to draw and had long put to bed any notion that they might have a creative bone in their body.
“If even two percent of people leave the class at the end of the session feeling like they’ve achieved something and are inspired to do more, I’m happy” says Bonne.
As a child, Bonne couldn’t wrap her head around drawing. She was the only kid in her Year 5 class who couldn’t draw a cube, which resulted in her failing Art that year, and she dropped the subject from her studies as soon as she could in Year 8. It was only through her gig as a life model and eavesdropping on teachers’ during the class that the artistic bug bit and she’s been drawing ever since.
“That could be me sitting there saying that I can’t draw to save my life. It’s having access to those people - people that have shut down the option of creativity in their lives - that is so exciting for me”. (Bonne 2008)
And that is the biggest challenge for The Artful Hen teachers: getting students to overcome their psychological barriers and make magic happen in just under two hours. (That, and holding the attention of groups who arrive after a long day of celebrating) “Most students leave amazed at what they’ve drawn” says Michelle. Recently, The Artful Hen was host to a 50th Birthday celebration.
“I wanted to spend my birthday perving for two hours under the pretence of art”
, proclaimed the birthday girl upon arrival. Fast forward two hours and the lady of the hour was furiously drawing and jotting down the names of nearby drop-in life drawing classes where she could practice her newfound skills. Aware that entrepreneurial success coupled with art could be frowned upon as strange bedfellows, and with the knowledge that many of her colleagues may look askance at the juxtaposition of life drawing with blatant titillation as the motivation, Bonne kept a low profile…until the Sun Herald ran an article about her classes in late 2007.
That article resulted in an influx of male model wannabes. Suddenly, Bonne found herself spending hours trawling through e-mails of half-naked men vying for the chance to flaunt their physiques. These ranged from pasty-white, thin and hairy studs ramping it up in a pair of red undies, to a nude photographic portfolio of a 70+ y/o male, complete with costume shots in pirate outfits. One keen applicant even pointed out his ability to maintain an erection for three hours without any prompts as a sure-fire selling point. “I just thought ‘Oh. My. God.’ and deleted the email immediately,” laughs Bonne.
Bonne found the avalanche of responses astounding. “If the article had advertised for ‘Hot looking naked women’, perhaps one percent of attractive women would actually apply” says Bonne. That a similar advert asking for attractive men resulted in a barrage of enquiries, by a very wide range of males, offers an interesting insight into how the different genders perceive themselves.
Why are women so much harsher on themselves when it comes to body image? Culturally, people are far more exposed to female nudity – in films, advertising and the media to name the most common means. As a result, many women feel measured by their attractiveness. Women also tend to micro-focus on their own physicality, whereas men macro-focus. Therefore, the thought of being in a position of intense scrutiny – such as life modelling – is terrifying for a lot of women.
It also terrifying for a lot of men, although for a very different reason. Potential male models are all plagued by the same question: “Am I big enough?”
Before taking on a gig, most models assume that it’s all about size. The reality is that most women in the class avoid drawing the male genitalia. “I usually have to persuade the women to draw them in so that our model looks like a man!” says Bonne.
If it’s not missing, the model’s appendage is often caricatured or doubled in size or tattooed with the hen’s name – a symptom of the need to diffuse the situation through humour. Provided the limb-in-question is not so small as to be a talking point during class, Bonne isn’t fussed. “Personality is definitely a more important feature to being a great model in these classes,” she says with a grin.
Bonne’s catalogue of models has included a fireman, architect, student, mechanic, stripper, personal trainer, landscape gardener, academic, and dancer. Unlike traditional life drawing classes, in The Artful Hen the model is the focus and the teacher the tool. As such, models are expected to connect with the class on a personal level, be completely comfortable naked and hold dynamic expressive poses. And it helps to be easy on the eye.
Generally, the classes are very well behaved and rarely need to be reminded that the models are there for drawing only. “Apart from an incident where the Hen ran up and played the drums on the models’ bottom, students understand that there is a no touching policy,” says Michelle. No touching, that is, except for the photo at the end of class when the model lies across the hens’ laps for a group photo. Yet even then, the innuendo is more suggestive than the reality.
The power relations in the room are not lost on groups of women who attend The Artful Hen. Ben recalls a conversation where he was asked how it felt to be the one objectified ‘for a change’. Jumping to the defence of men (you have to hand it to the guy: the only male in a room of fifteen tipsy women, he’s naked, holding a pose - and still he is fighting the good fight) Ben innocently pointed out that breasts are much closer to eye level than a penis.
The response? The Hen picked up her chair and repositioned herself inches from Ben, where she proceeded to talk at his genitals for a good five minutes - a fairly blatant comment on the unsubtly of the male gaze. Ever the professional life model, Ben didn’t flinch.
The increase in popularity of experiences like The Artful Hen is symptomatic of a shift in attitude: sex has become more transparent and socially acceptable. Simultaneously, it has been sanitised and made safe. Pole dancing, another popular hens’ night activity, was once relegated to the realms of sleazy strip clubs and trashy showmanship. Today, groups of women don gym outfits, gulp down tequila shots and discover the thrills of twirls, spins and bruised shins - all within the safety of a group of friends and a private room.
Similarly, the rise of Burlesque events, clubs and even drawing classes sees something previously humming below the surface now a fully-fledged mainstream activity. Sex fascinates. Everything titillates. Nothing is consummated.
Are we liberated, or just toying with the idea of being liberal?
Asked whether she was in the business of art or sex, Bonne is adamant that her classes are predominantly about art … with a smidgen of sexuality for that extra frisson. When women call to make a booking, many quiz Bonne on whether the classes are tacky or in will any way embarrass the Hen. Gone are the days when Studs Afloat was the desirable choice for a hens’ party. “My favourite question is whether the model is naked” says Bonne with a chuckle. “’Yep!’ I reply, ‘completely naked form the moment he makes his grand entrance until the end’”.
It is the context for the nudity that determines how it is received in class and is also what sets The Artful Hen apart from other hens’ night fodder. This is not nudity leading to sex. This is nudity to enable students to capture muscular definition, dynamism and attitude of the human form. Most students comment on how therapeutic they find drawing and how quickly they forget that the model is actually naked.
These classes are hugely popular and show no signs of slowing. How is this impacting on the broader understanding of art? Could the knock-on effect be a wider appreciation for the arts? Will the doors of local galleries be flooded with new believers in the power and beauty of art? Only time will tell.
If, as commented by Michelle, these classes are about “opening up the eyes of students to see what is right in front of them”, then perhaps the impact is less dramatic. Perhaps, as hoped by Bonne, it is about reconnecting people with their creativity, which goes to the very heart of healthy self-expression.
With thanks to Rayni Bonne, Ben and Michelle.
Proposed Resale Royalty Agreement - Implications for Australia
Sally Hilton
The question as to whether visual artists should receive a royalty payment on the resale of their work is an issue very much alive and subject to a variety of views and vigorous debate. In Australia it is sometimes said that this question is of greater significance to Indigenous artists than to non-Indigenous and this has added a further complication to an already difficult problem. The decision in the 2008 Budget has settled the basic question as it has mandated that a resale royalty will be paid, although as yet the details are not spelled out.
Resale royalties aim to ensure that artists share in the resale value of their work. This presupposes that there is a market for it, often there is not. The line is drawn between those who think that such money as is collected will largely go to administrators and to those who don’t need it while the others think that the money, no matter how little, will do some good and every little bit helps.
The first country to introduce such a scheme was France. Paul Lewis recounts in his article “The Resale Royalty and Australian Visual Artists: Painting the Full Picture”, Media & Arts Law Review, 306 (2003) that Resale royalty rights, also known as droit de suite, became law in France in the 1920s to assist the widows of artists killed in the First World War. The case of Jean François Millet (1814-1875) was also significant. At a time when Millet’s paintings were selling for extremely high prices after his death his widow and family were found to be living in poverty. This is similar to the argument regarding high prices on the resale of some Indigenous paintings.
Since the introduction of the French scheme, resale royalty agreements have been adopted in more than 30 international jurisdictions including the UK, Germany, Italy, California and the Czech Republic. Significantly the major international art sales centres such as New York and Switzerland have no such scheme although London did adopt it in early 2006.
In Australia, the questions surrounding resale royalty rights have been debated for many years. The debate predated the establishment of VI$COPY in the mid 1990s and intensified with the introduction in 2000 of artists’ Moral Rights legislation. In 2002 Rupert Myer was commissioned by the Federal Government to conduct the Contemporary Visual Arts and Crafts Inquiry. The key recommendation was that resale royalty agreements should be introduced and the report considered the issues surrounding such an introduction.
This report was followed up by a Government discussion paper on the issue, released in mid 2004. Labour Senator Kate Lundy (unsuccessfully) introduced a private members Bill in March of 2004, prior to the release of the discussion paper, which called for artists to be paid 5% of the sale price when their works were resold.
Peter Anderson in his March 2008 article, Resale Royalties and New Directions for the Arts, writes that in May 2006 the Howard government decided against introducing a resale royalty arrangement, arguing that it “would not provide a meaningful source of income for the majority of Australia’s artists”. They claimed that such a scheme would benefit mainly successful late career artists and the estates of deceased artists; whilst adversely affecting commercial art galleries, dealers, auction houses and investors and thus the struggling artists that were sought to be assisted.
In 2007 Clifford Possum Tjapaltjarri’s painting Warlugulong sold at a Sotheby’s auction for $2.4million to the National Gallery of Australia, its original sale price in 1977 was $1,200. This again brought the question of resale royalties to the fore.
Peter Garrett, the current Federal Minister for the Arts, in an interview in Issue 3 /2008 of Artist Profile Magazine foreshadowed that the government would act to implement resale royalties and he especially mentioned the benefits to Indigenous artists. He had expressed similar views whilst in opposition in 2006 in the Austilli Indigenous Law Bulletin stating that “Indigenous artists, in particular, stand to benefit from the introduction of a resale royalty scheme...”
However, according to well known Indigenous art expert and dealer Adrian Newstead, such a resale royalty would be very difficult to administer, especially in the case of deceased Indigenous painters. More broadly it would fail in its intention, largely benefiting those who do not need it. Newstead made submissions along these lines to the Myer Inquiry and recently to Minister Garrett on behalf of the Art Trade Association.
It could be said that he is an interested party in this debate as he is a direct beneficiary of the art market as it now stands. However, if all those persons who have an interest in the field, practical experience of it and an interest in what happens are excluded, then there will be insufficient evidence on which to base policy. The fact that someone might be partisan does not make their view less valuable, it merely means that it must be scrutinised a little more carefully.
The thrust of Newstead’s argument is that if you take the French scheme as a model, it has demonstrated that the benefits go to successful dead artists, for example Picasso and Cezanne, none of whose estates need the money. He also believes that had a similar scheme been working in Australia in relation to Indigenous art at least, a very large proportion of the resale royalties would have gone to the estates of very few artists. It is also his opinion, and this is where his partiality may show, that the secondary market is fragile and might not sustain another tax.
Frank Watters and Geoffrey Legge from Watters Gallery, equally well known and respected, have been paying a resale royalty of 10% of the total resale price of works for nearly forty years. King Street Gallery on William have also for over twenty years been paying a resale royalty to their represented artists of between 5-10%. Co-director Randi Linnegar believes that such payments would have a marginal if any impact on the business of buying and selling art.
Federal Arts Minister Peter Garrett and Libby Baulch from the Australian Copyright Council both argue that the implementation of a resale royalty scheme would increase the income and provide ongoing economic support for visual artists, who tend to exist at the lower end of the economic scale. Their view has now prevailed.
David Thosby and Virginia Hollister in a report for the Australia Council in 2003, Don’t Give up your Day Job: an economic study of professional artists in Australia, indicate that economic support for the arts community is clearly an issue worth raising. This report found that 50 percent of artists earn less than $7,300 per annum from their art.
It is argued by those who are unenthusiastic about the concept of artists’ rights that sales in the secondary art market are variable and often limited to those popular and saleable artists who represent a small fraction of working artists. Auction houses and secondary dealers “select” only those works which they believe they can sell. This quite often means that the works are by deceased or well established and mid career successful artists. Those in real need and for whom this is supposed to help are not benefited.
The secondary market has grown dramatically over recent years and there are many indications that artists have not enjoyed the benefits. An example is the sale in 2000 of Johnny Warangkula Tjupurrula’s Water Dreaming at Kalipinypa for $486,500; its original sale price was approximately $150. Whiteley has sold for over $2,000,000 likewise Tucker, Blackman, Olsen, Nolan and Pro Hart have all enjoyed booming secondary market sales. One can fairly assume that none of the above artists or their estates needs much assistance. These are examples to bolster the case of the critics of the scheme who can say that probable, in dollar terms, a large proportion of the resale royalties go to already successful artists.
There is a perceived inequity between the rights of visual artists and other creative artists, which the proposed introduction of resale royalties aims to address. Creative artists such as published authors and composers whose works are reproduced often receive substantial remuneration benefits in the form of license payments. Visual artists are more likely to receive an initial primary financial benefit from the sale of their work, but are less likely to receive secondary remuneration for subsequent reproduction and uses. This is most likely due to the current copyright provisions being insufficiently balanced with the license agreements of other creative artists, as discussed above. An example is that an author writes a book which initially sells badly and makes little money. Years later it becomes a best seller and the author gets the royalty on this popularity.
Now the Australian Government has decided to introduce a resale royalty arrangement there are a number of different options it can follow. As this is a relatively new concept for Australia we have the benefit of studying other countries examples in determining which would be the most reasonable and beneficial to our situation and artists.
In most jurisdictions the rates of resale royalties are between 2 and 5 percent. The European Union directive specifies a sliding scale for calculating a royalty based on the net price, which is the sale price less the cost of the sale. Other jurisdictions such as Brazil, Chile, Peru, Turkey and Uruguay calculate the royalty percentage on the increase in resale in real terms. NAVA, VI$COPY, the Copyright Agency limited and the Arts Law Centre of Australia have all advocated a fully legislated scheme with a low minimum threshold and a blanket flat rate resale royalty of 5 percent on all public sales. The European Union directive stipulates a maximum threshold on the amount of royalties payable, providing a cap in relation to individual sales, but not on cumulative payments to artists as a result of multiple sales of work.
VI$COPY has estimated that they could administer the scheme for around 20 percent of the royalty collected. It is a matter for experience and judgement as to whether or not it will be sensible to have a ‘threshold’ below which it is not worth collecting the royalty. There will likely be a maximum cap on any royalty collected from a single re-sale. Supporters would note that any benefit, no matter how large or small, is worth collecting, distributing and being recognised.
In existing schemes, collecting societies and government institutions are responsible for the collection and distribution of any royalties. This is the most logical, visible and accountable method. The Myer Report states that “a collecting agency may be the best model for the collection and distribution of a resale royalty in Australia” (2002) p 384. If a resale royalty agreement was introduced, industry self-regulation and the development of an industry code of conduct would need to be instituted.
It is generally recognised that any scheme will disproportionately benefit the estates of dead artists over living artists, and recognised artists over lesser known artists. For this reason it is suggested that the duration of resale royalty rights should be consistent with existing and future copyright laws.
The concept of introducing a resale royalty scheme is to create an ongoing economic interest in original Australian artworks beyond the initial sales transaction, as well as bringing Australia in line with many European nations.
The announcement in the 2008 Federal Budget of $1.5 million dollars over three years to support the establishment of a resale royalty scheme has practically settled the matter. An independent collecting society will be appointed to administer the scheme; the government press release indicates that an open tender process will be conducted in the second half of this year to select the appropriate organisation for this administration. It appears from the budget announcement that the detail of the scheme has yet to be finalised, no doubt this will be done in the near future.
Although the budget announcement has settled the big question if whether to introduce such a scheme into Australia, opinions still differ sharply and no doubt the benefits to the artists envisaged by such a scheme will be carefully scrutinised
Bibliography
- Anderson, Peter: “Resale royalties and New Directions for the Arts”, Fuel for Arts, March 2008
- Arts Victoria: Proposed Resale Royalty Arrangement, Response by Arts Victoria to Discussion Paper, August 2004
- Arnold, Bruce: Caslon Analytical profile droit de suite, December 2007
- Australian Copyright Council: Response to Discussion Paper on Proposed Resale Royalty Arrangement, August 2004
- Australian Broadcasting Corporation: Budget reveals resale royalties, screen funds, May 13, 2008
- Australian Government Budget Measures 2008-09: Budget Paper No. 2 – Part 2: Expense Measures – Environment, Water, Heritage and the Arts
- Australian Government Department of Communications, Information Technology and The Arts: Proposed Resale Royalty Arrangement Discussion Paper
- Baulch, Libby: Article for National Association for the Visual Arts, Resale royalty right (“droit de suite”), Australian Copyright Council, February 1998
- Davis, Alison & Ton, Peter: "Resale Royalties" ART + Law, Arts Law Centre Australia Online, September 2000
- Garrett, Peter: “Resale Royalty Rights”, Indigenous Law bulletin, 2006
- Mendelssohn, Joanna, “The Secret Life of Art”, ABC Unleashed, January 7 2008
- Newstead, Adrian: Resale Royalty, prepared for the Art.Trade Association, May 2008
- Quiggin, Robynne: “The Resale Royalty: An Overview”, Indigenous Law Bulletin, 2006
Ceramics: The Art World’s Bastard Child
Kathryn Berkowitz
Ceramics is an art for those who wish to challenge and construct, pushing and exploring the boundaries of form and function. Wheel throwing in particular, is a learned skill, which many artists have never mastered. Only a special few possess the talent and patience for the wheel, whereas numerous individuals have put paint to canvas. History is learned through the past, with most of our knowledge of customs and cultures of the ancient world coming from excavated ceramic objects, acting as a gateway to days gone by. And yet ceramics is looked down upon, considered substandard in the art world. Treated with no respect, clay is still seen as “a ‘craft’ medium. Ambitious sculptors work with metal, stone, wood, plastic, even found objects, although more offbeat materials like felt are sometimes permissible in the case of serious Conceptualists. Clay? That's just for modeling.” (Glueck 1996) Painting and drawing is revered and celebrated, but not clay. Clay, the most basic of resources, is scorned and pushed aside. Ceramics has become the bastard of the art world – largely ignored and disrespected.
Clay is not just a material to work with, but an entrance into another world entirely. Ceramics lends itself to this other world of exploration not usually seen in the arts- one that combines human and machine. The mastering of the pottery wheel is the ultimate celebration of this unity. There is arguably nothing more enjoyable than being covered in clay up past your elbows, feeling your creation spin round, as you sit unmoving for several hours hunched over into a position that would make a yoga master wince. You sit and create, raising and centering clay, possessing a mastery all your own. Perfectly aligned bowls and vases come forth from the wheel, born of human hands, appearing as if mass-produced by Tupperware. But no, these labors of love that have taken hours of devotion to create and produce are your own, an extension of their maker. After initial basic instructions of center and raise the walls, it becomes an individual experience. Stephen Bowers sees “pottery [as] giv[ing] ready permission for use and tactile exploration, often missing from many other forms of visual art.” (Bowers 2007) Clay is a fascinating medium, able to be molded and shaped according to the individual. One’s own connection to the clay is explored on the wheel, with this relationship being examined in later days. How one chooses to shape that vase or bowl, and even what glazing to use, is a reflection of themselves and of their interaction to the world around them. From these humble beginnings, a history of contemporary society takes shape.
Now, let us examine how ceramics has aided the development of complex civilizations. This discussion will only skim the surface all the while offering insight on a road largely not traveled. Looking back on the growth and progress of societies, its successes are measured by economic, social, and cultural achievements. The art of a great empire is looked upon by future generations for inspiration, as are the political systems, and any other novel ideas proved to stand the test of time. Where does ceramics fit into this breakdown? Actually, it lends itself to all aspects of society. Economically in the simplest of terms, ceramic vessels housed the food of a nation. Jars, jugs, and pitchers in various shapes and sizes allowed for the storage and preparation of food, as well as the transportation and holding of water and drink. People could move away from costal regions, spreading to the inner parts of the land, having ways now to preserve their food and drink supply. Ceramic vessels allowed for the expansion of societies and without this preservation of food and drink, civilizations would cease to have existed and consequently we wouldn’t be here today. Socially, the development of the ceramic trade led to the growth of industry. Learned individuals became expert craftsmen on the wheel and were thus able to hand down the skill. They created a trade, honing an ability useful in aiding the production of everyday items that fueled nations. With this, ceramicists and potters contributed to the economy as well, allowing another outlet for money to be traded and gained. Historians mainly concentrate on cultural significance when remarking on successes of a society. The advancement in technologies, understanding of certain scientific/artistic processes and overall intellectual prowess are considered and measured. Ceramics is a testament to this cultural achievement of the past. Vessels and forms were constructed thousands of years ago and can function today just as well as they would have previously. Ancient civilizations had a great understanding of the process of wheel throwing and were constantly thinking of ways to improve it (Bryant 2001). Glazing techniques have also stood the test of time, being passed down through generations. Though our equipment might differ now, technique remains the same. The modern ceramics world combines advances of technology with an understanding of ancient methods, allowing creation and exploration. Ceramics derived from the early desert days continues to be heavily used and practiced today, serving as inspiration for contemporary pieces and ideas. The importance and development of ceramics has stood the test of time, evidence of the cultural success of ancient societies. Taking all this into consideration, this, ceramics as instrumental in civilization development logically and logistically makes perfect sense. So why then, has it been overlooked and underappreciated for so long?
With this understanding of the importance of ceramics in a historical context existing on a rudimentary level, a look into the debate of form versus function is the next rational step. Look in museums and galleries and what does one see? Paintings. Loads and loads of paintings, numerous on the same subject even, becoming monotonous and tedious. Ceramics is generally thought of as inferior to other art disciplines simply because it serves more than an aesthetic purpose. This is not meant to demean or belittle painters and sculptors, but as merely an expression of the cries of the poor ceramicist, longing to be treated as their artistic equal. Painters create masterpieces on canvas, able to be hung for all to see and admire. Sculptors create works that can be displayed on the wall or the floor, again for all the world to engage in. How then, does one classify ceramics? It can be tailored to hang on walls, sit on a floor, or even take up residence in the kitchen cabinets. That is exactly the problem - there is too broad a spectrum when it comes to separating and classifying the ceramic world. Take the Ming vases of China, regarded as some of the most beautifully decorated vessels in the world, celebrating the art of the painted vessel. The vase possesses a highly functional shape and yet is considered high art. (Björkell 2007) People would rather die than actually put flowers in it, choosing to ignore what most would regard as the main purpose of such a vessel. Then there is the work of Jonathan Adler, a celebrated and renowned American contemporary ceramicist. His pieces are beautiful and push the boundaries of their intended functions. His vases can be used for exactly what they are supposed to do – act as a display piece for something else, or they stand entirely on their own as decorative works. (Pure Contemporary 2006) Completely on the opposite end, are the everyday items - vases, bowls, cups and other tableware found at your local Target. Each is designed within a specific scheme: from the shape of the plate to the coloring, and yet we eat off these items rather than display them. Where then is this line - when is it okay for a ceramic to be referred to as high art rather than just be treated like another cup on the shelf?
Archeologists have come up with a classification system for ceramics based upon shape of the vessels; the geometric assemblage driving how the work is separated out. (Ericson & Stickel 1973) While this proves useful for excavation sites and historical classification, it holds up little for contemporary visions of high art. In actuality there is no standard system in place for discerning what is considered “museum worthy” in the ceramic world. Perhaps this stems from the vague and yet all encompassing definition of what art actually is, but ceramics for the most part are thought to be solely functional within this broader framework. The blue cup you drink your orange juice out of every morning is a shining example of this fact. Take a closer look. A ceramicist has decided every aspect of this simple object for you- the height of the cup, the thickness of its walls, whether it has a handle or not, how round it is and even the color. Is this not the same as with painting? When one looks at a painting, the image presented is from the mind of the artist. The subject matter, the coloring, the style, and even the size of the canvas are presented from a singular view. Just because this painting is not mass-produced and deemed functional tableware, this does not render the tableware any less artistic and aesthetically pleasing.
Ceramics seems to have taken on the identity of the forgotten medium, looked upon as purely practical instead of high art. The ultimate goal is not grouping all ceramics into the high art world, but of respect. Ceramicists spend just as much time as other artists, if not more, developing a concept and making it a reality. Instead of working with a brush or chisel, they work in clay. The choice a painter makes between oil and acrylic is the same as a ceramicist choosing between terracotta and porcelain. The size of a brush and colors of a painter are the same as selection of glazes by the potter. The only thing that differs between them is medium and materials. The commitment to time and concept is exactly the same. Both are artists who happen to work in completely distinctive fields. Clay is a medium for an artist just as paint is, and whether the end result is functional or not, it should all be considered art regardless. It operates as a medium and not as a craft, for if it were in fact so easy to do and craft based, there is no telling how many grannies in nursing-homes could churn out “mugs for sale” next to their crochet mittens at the next Craft Fair. Clay is not simple or easy; everyone cannot work in it or with it, as it takes extreme dedication and the hands of a very skilled individual. And yet, one artist’s work hangs in prestigious positions on walls complete with lighting system and will most certainly fetch a high selling price. As for the other, the modern day ceramicist and their works, they are largely ignored and overlooked by most museums, only hoping their designs aren’t duplicated, ending up in the aisles of the nearest K-Mart. Not all ceramicists create functional pottery, and nevertheless they are grouped in with those that do. Sadly, these ceramicists and their pieces, functional or otherwise, are not appreciated till the artist is gone; only then is their work elevated to high art status, placed in special glass cases on the museum floor. It takes death or the long passage of time for a ceramic piece to be appreciated and given the attention it deserves. This is not only depressing but completely shameful of the art world at large.
The drive to understand the past and come to grip with an unpredictable future forces people turn to history for answers. So where then does this knowledge of history come from? From ceramics — the pottery of yesterday. All that remains from many ancient societies are fragments of bowls, vases, plates and other earthenware. These magnificent vessels have stood the test of time, available now for historians to study and scrutinize. It is undisputed that the only record of painting from ancient times has been found on the ceramic vessels of antiquity and yet because these vessels serve a functional purpose, they are not recognized as high artistic quality, as say an easel painting would be. (Nelson 2003) Until this dilemma of where ceramics fits into the art world is solved, it will stay crushed beneath the weight of overwhelming numbers of painters and sculptors, fighting and clawing to the top where it belongs. Thus, this begs the question — should functional design be forfeited for artistic reverence?
Bibliography
Björkell, Stina 2007, "Chinese Art – More Than Ming Vases", Radio86 All About China
Bowers, Stephen 2007, "Tableware for the Table and Beyond", Ceramics Art and Perception, 2007 Issue 68
Bryant, Victor 2001, "The Origin of the Potter’s Wheel", Ceramics Today, 2006
Ericson, Jonathon E. & E. Gary Stickel 1973, ‘A Proposed Classification System For Ceramics’, World Archeology, 1973 February Volume 4 Issue 3 “Theories and Assumptions” published by Taylor and Francis, Ltd., pages 357 – 367
Glueck, Grace 1996, ‘Puns and Allusions in Just Plain Clay’, New York Times Arts Section, 8 November 1996.
"Musings with Jonathan Adler" 2006, Pure Contemporary, 2006 September
Nelson, Robert 2003, "Hyper-laughing – The Smile In Ceramics That Ceased To Be Brittle", Ceramics Art and Perception, 2003 Issue 53
Life On The Edge: The Tamworth Fibre Textile Biennial and the fate of medium-based exhibitions
Annalice Creighton
Since its origins as a local exhibition in 1976 the Tamworth Fibre Textile Biennial has developed from a small survey show into a curated exhibition of contemporary textile art from around Australia. Founded with the aim of highlighting innovative new works in this field and promoting the fine art aspect of textile media, it has been instrumental in fostering awareness and appreciation of fibre art since its inception, touring its biannual selections of contemporary work around regional galleries nationwide. In the environment that precipitated the craft/art debates of the 1980s the Tamworth biennial aligned itself with the growing practice of postmodern contemporary textile art at the same time as major institutions and established artists were also recognising the potential of this domain previously relegated under the banner of “craft”. Decades later it remains the most established national contemporary textile art exhibition of its kind. The medium-centred debates have subsided, but the stigma continues. Textile art is fully integrated into the modes of contemporary practice and expression, but it retains a profile on the borders of mainstream recognition and on the exhibition calendars of an almost exclusively sub-urban and rural gallery circuit. “Textile art exists on the edge” (W.Cygan in S.Rowley, 1999, p92) and apparently that edge is geographic as well as metaphorical.
Traditional artistic media are analogue, human scaled and refined through hundreds of years of practice. They have depended on the developed application of the head, hand and heart- the intellectual and the physical manipulation of the media in which the artist worked- harnessed to communicate not only information, but to connect with others at profound emotional levels. (Tamworth Regional Gallery,V.Thwaites, 2006, p4)
In the world: hand, head, heart is the 2006 edition of the Tamworth Fibre Textile Biennial curated by Vivionne Thwaites. As the 17th incarnation of this established regional exhibition, In the world draws upon thematic constructs that reference tradition, experience and the practice of the textiles it showcases. Viewing the beautiful, considered and poignant selection of works included in the 17th Biennial, it would be easy to write romantically about this exhibition. At the same time, to do so would indulge in a popular response that fails to push further into what lies beneath the exhibitions and what they offer to the 21st century context. Questions of why is there no critical review or mainstream engagement with this event? Why are medium based exhibitions banished to the regional gallery circuit? Is this a case of perpetuating a tradition past its use-by date or the vital nourishment of a fringe dwelling art form?If, as Thwaites suggested, the application of intellect: head; emotional response: heart, and active exploration: hand is what unites the art in the Biennial exhibition, then perhaps this same framework could be applied to an investigation of its wider significance.
HEAD
It has been suggested that textile art is still stuck in a state of In Between, in an attractive No Mans Land, before some unknown realm (Tamworth City Gallery, V.Kirk, 1992, p4)
As we stand on the other side of the turn of the century, we should be in a Golden Age for fibre art and exhibitions that highlight this medium. Words like “craft” should be nowhere to be seen. The feminist reconsideration of the craft-based domestic arts by artists like Eva Hesse and Judy Chicago find their successors in acclaimed contemporary artists such as Ghada Amer, Tracey Emin and Yinka Shonibare. That which was long overlooked, materials and gestures, has been rehabilitated as fine arts practice (J.Yood, 2007, p36).
As a form of making whose lineage sprawls from the dawn of civilization, fibrous textile materials have been reborn in the last half-century as the quintessential post modern form: dense with symbolism, meaning and history yet a part of our everyday experience. If any art medium can claim universal significance to almost every culture it is textiles, encompassing all manner of fibre and filament: paper, wool, silk, feathers, animal skin, petrochemical and metallic, it is both deeply traditional and on the cutting edge of technological innovation. Yet fibre continues to live on the periphery of contemporary art awareness and understanding, perched upon a tedious question: where do we go from here? The “diversity of concerns” presented under the umbrella term of “textiles” is perhaps part of the source of public confusion (Kirk, 1992, p4). Where does a political African cloth design stand in relation to an inspired performance costume of polyester gauze and emu feathers, or to an intuitive mark-making embroidery exercise? It seems that the differences are clear only to the initiated (Kirk, 1992, p4). To those outside this realm, a process of experience and education needs to be enacted to clarify the identity and direction of this art form. Galleries are instrumental in this education but unfortunately Australia has very few willing or able to risk developing and promoting a contemporary collection of textile art, which is where the hard yards of regional exhibitions really become apparent.
HAND
In observing the impacts of this quieter Biennial that graces our local exhibition calendar every other year, there comes to mind the question of whether the regional focus of this event is part of why the biennial and the art it showcases continue to dwell on the fringes. As an exhibition that highlights the diverse and dynamic practices of contemporary textile artists it takes a regional touring circuit that traverses the edges of the art scene, acknowledged but never really noticed. This year, a six hour commute is as close to Sydney as the biennial will get. Unsurprisingly it is also absent from critical review in mainstream publications and only referred to in press release/curatorial statements included in textile journals. I suspect this has more to do with its regional status than the significance of the work involved.
A quick glance around the NSW/Sydney sections of the Art Almanac will confirm that on the local map textiles is there, its just not quite announcing itself….it’s mostly on the edges….of the city. Walala Wasala at Wollongong’s City Gallery displays a collection of 80 textiles from 13 African countries. From Masai warrior chiefs and colonial liberation figures to HIV/AIDS, Nelson Mandela, Osama and George Bush, the images are intensely concerned with political, historical, economic and social messages. The garishly colourful fabrics and their striking content is a reminder of the vast potential of textiles as political and social commentary, from Mahatma Ghandi’s wearing of the Khadi homespun cloth as the symbol of Indian resistance to the Washington Quilt Project of 1987 which documented the awful scale of the Aids epidemic (Rowley, p182). Liverpool Regional Museum offers a different kind of quilted story in The Odyssey Quilt Project. Even in the devoted search for relevant contemporary art textiles it could seem at first that these works by 12 Dutch women are more akin to craft objects. Yet although they hold the appearance of craft in their aesthetic sensibilities, they are not technical exercises in traditional styles, but personal artworks that tell a story of the human spirit and survival. Nearby at Fairfield City Gallery, Mark making in Stitch, the results of a master class with artist Llize Aviks, presents a series of sensitive and thoughtful works but which ultimately confirm the patterns of same-ness and repetition that threaten to stagnate contemporary textile practice into a predictable language. Geographically still part of the regional map but actually more integrated into the status quo of metropolitan museum display language is The Casula Powerhouse’s Australian exhibition. Australian includes two notable examples of contemporary textile work in Raquel Ormella’s Miss Turkey and Maria Fernanda Cardoso’s Emu Wear.
Descending from the periphery towards the metropolis, Newtown’s At The Vanishing Point Contemporary Art holds a tri-part showing of works by Peter Williamson, Kelly Leonard, Tanya Fielding and Clare Bond. Basketry, weaving, installation and sculptural responses to cloth, conceptually disparate works, are aligned by their common textile origins. The spirit of Anni Albers lives on in Leonard’s Bauhaus-esque designs woven in natural dyed Lao silk and the everyday experiences associated with textiles are explored in Bond’s twisted, draped forms and “memory swatches”. At the MCA, Fiona Hall’s Force Field includes a number of woven works that display the seamless integration of textile materials and methods into the oeuvre of accomplished contemporary artists. Garments woven from coca cola cans in Medicine bundle for the non-born child and Tender’s basket-like nests from wire and US dollar bills are just a few examples. Having been a practicing artist through the years when debate surrounded these mediums and processes, Hall is entirely intentional and aware of what she is engaging and to what ends.
Comparing the regional gallery showings and Tamworths 17th Biennial with the present metropolitan curatorial tendencies begs the question of whether the whole media debate is defunct or merely unfashionable. Does a medium based exhibition advance the cause or continue to run it in the same circles it has been mixing in for the past few decades?
A lot of the most interesting textile art can admittedly come from practitioners who do not consider themselves as textile artists nor their work as textiles (or who would rather not be associated with the term despite sustained involvement with this way of working, a reminder that it still carries a certain amount of negative stigma in the contemporary art world). For the Tamworth Biennial and the art scene at large, the emphasis on technique and media is an obsession of the past that has given way to focus on the artists and their conceptual concerns (Tamworth City Gallery, M.Rolfe, 1992, p3). After spending the early decades establishing and defending its position within the contemporary art arena it has finally managed to be firmly astride of the art/craft debate, and Tamworth continues to champion this position in attempting to reflect a diverse range of issues and ways of working that push beyond the media based categorisation. The contemporary spirit of the exhibition: “seeks not to perpetuate stagnant aesthetics and techniques, but to demonstrate the tremendous potential for artistic and conceptual evolution offered by the fibre/textile medium” (Tamworth City Gallery, F.Fenner, 1992, p8).
HEART
Yet even in the 17th Biennial In the world: head, hand, heart the curatorial concept refers to the issue of traditional artistic media and its role in communicating on emotional and intellectual levels through the art object. The justification and reassertion of textile art as a contemporary discourse remains at the core of the biennial and the published material that accompanies it. The need to stand guard on this ground is not just a tool to legitimise the biennial’s media based format. Rather it is an expression of real concern, that the territory which was gained over the latter part of the 20th century has not properly consolidated itself in the present art world. Despite the “gains in acceptance” (Fenner, 1992, p6) there is still stigma attached to this field of art, the old debates that are never entirely resolved. Textiles have an “otherness” to them in the fine arts world, the theoretical understanding of them is “incomplete and untranslated” (S. Maharaj in G.McCracken, 2000, p91) and the persistence of initiatives like Tamworth to solidify its position and understanding are to be admired. A medium-based show such as the Fibre Textile Biennial may continue to remain regional but the mainstream manifestations of the territory it defends are clear to the initiated eye.
Habacuc’s Starving Dog
Jennifer Hsieh
The dog, a live skeleton wrapped in skin, paced back and forth in his corner. Restrained by a short leash, his movements were confined to the small area of the gallery. In the absence of water and food, he eyed the gallery goers with a longing glance. No one stepped forward to help and it is all in the name of art.
Great art possesses the power to stir passion and give rise to emotion. Unconventional art forms act to instigate discussion and provoke reaction. Artists often provide an alternate view through their artworks while challenging the established values and institutions. Recently, the headlines around the world echoed the horror and criticism on a new piece of art in Nicaragua. The outcry demanded the immediate end of the exhibition and a public apology for its creation. With a dog alleged to have starved to death in the name of art, one cannot help but wonder if there is any morality left in art and if the end justifies the means.
“Chaining up a dog and forcing it to go without food and water in the name of art is a surefire way of making yourself unpopular with animal lovers. The furor created by Damien Hirst's pickled sheep and Tracey Emin's dirty bed pales into insignificance against the international outrage Guillermo 'Habacuc' Vargas has unleashed” (Couzens, 2008). The Costa Rican has been called explicit names over claims that a stray dog called Natividad (“Nativity”) died of starvation while it was displayed at an exhibition last year. Habacuc chained Natividad without food and water under the words “Eres Lo Que Lees” (“You Are What You Read”) made out of dog biscuits while he played the Sandinista anthem backwards and set 175 pieces of crack cocaine alight in a massive incense burner (Couzens, 2008).
The exhibition set off an intense internet campaign against the artist and the artwork. In the age of information technology, Habacuc’s Eres Lo Que Lees is an excellent example of viral marketing. Not only has the nature and description of his artwork passed from one email account to the next, but it has also successfully populated across all types of social networking websites. The buzz surrounding his art is phenomenal, and it does not require the technical skill or the expertise of a NASA engineer to source the details of the exhibition online. All major business corporations can only dream of generating this level of success in the Web 2.0 world and to have gained traction across such varied segments of audience. However, the type of hype it has achieved is every publicist’s worse nightmare. From forums, blogs, MySpace, to even YouTube, they all contain messages informing users of the exhibition and photographed details of the alleged cruelty. Facebook even has user groups dedicated solely to the cause and has rallied users to stop mistreatment of animals. All sites call for an end of his art exhibition, the withdrawal of his invitation to Bienal Centroamericana Fonduras 2008, and the boycott of his future exhibitions. The outrage is borderless and the cry for an end reflects the general public shock and sentiment to his artwork. Blogger Lauralynn on popgive.com posted:
This is absolutely unbelievable!!!! For the people who think THIS is art - WTF?.. are you kidding me?? That poor dog did not deserve this and this is NOT art.. IT'S A CRIME.. and should be punishable by law. I don't care what country this is in or what the culture is like.. That dog was a living breathing animal!!!! And to the people that were there and watched this and to anyone else who thinks this is art.. Shame on you!
MySpace Blogger Helena agrees the concept is unacceptable, “I feel deeply sorry for the dog. I believe art shouldn’t be a crime. Letting an innocent dog die in the name of art is just a poor excuse for a heartless so called artist. But wait i have an idea!!!! He should tie himself on a short rope and starve himself. That would be above art for me.”
Threats to the artist and mob behavior on the blogs led to intervention from moderators.
As mentioned before, we can clearly understand that many of you are furious or saddened by the happenings, nevertheless we will still proceed to delete any kind of rude insults and also all encouragements to kill or torture Guillermo Vargas (in all languages - Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, no matter, if we can translate it and it contains only hatred and lynch mob like encouragements, we will delete it….. (Reiskeks, 2007).
The emaciated dog not only tugged the heartstrings but also promoted endless discussions on the role of art and the concept of morality in art. On one of the MySpace forums dedicated completely to Guillermo Habacuc Vargas, blogger Manders asked “Did anyone ask [Habacuc] what his point was? I keep hearing that this man is such a monster to make a dog starve for art but perhaps his intention is good. Maybe he wants to enrage you so you see that this happens for less than art.. [and] question morality?” Her comment was instantly fought back with strong postings arguing Habacuc was not above a moral standard even if it is for the sake of art.
Does it really matter if [it is] moral or not? What if it was your dog? And I don't want to hear "Well it was a stray". That dog could have survived and lived on… Did you ever think that maybe that dog could have been next? But instead some fucking Costa Rican artist thought it would means something if he tied him in a room and starved more. You are lowering yourself to Guillermo's level now. By even asking those questions you are making yourself as much of a heartless beast as him” (MySpace, 2008).
Blind hatred dominated much of the discussions, it has been reported some two million people have signed a petition protesting against Habacuc’s treatment of Natividad (Harris, 2008). However some news agencies, committed to further investigation, returned a different version of the event. The artist told reporters that the artwork is attributed to a burglar killed by two dogs. Also communicated over Web 2.0 technology Habacuc posted on his MySpace page claiming the purpose of the work was not to cause any type of infliction on the poor innocent creature, but rather to illustrate a point.
In his home city of San Jose, Costa Rica, tens of thousands of stray dogs starve and die of illness on the streets each year and no one pays them a second thought. “Now, if you publicly display one of these starving creatures, such as the case with Nativity, it creates a backlash that brings out a big of hypocrisy in all of us. Nativity was a very sick creature and would have died in the streets anyway”(Animalrights, 2007). Habacuc stopped short of confirming or denying that the dog died of hunger and thirst. His resistance to stating the wellbeing of the dog is understandable. After all, his main intension was to raise awareness of stray dogs rather than the particular treatment of Nativiad. Much more direct in facing the controversy, Juanita Bermudez, director of the gallery, insisted that Natividad was untied all the time except the three hours the exhibition lasted. She confirmed Natividad was also fed regularly with dog food Habacuc himself brought in. Instead of dying, it was claimed that the dog ran away after the first day of the exhibition (Couzens, 2008).
“If illustrating the lazy hypocrisy of so-called ‘animal lovers’ was the goal of the installation, I’d say Vargas succeeded in spades. All the people signing these petitions and expending their energy making [Habacuc] a famous performance artist in the name of ‘animal welfare’ should take a good long look in the mirror….”(Taylor, 2008). And this comment is spot on.
- 67,703 dead, strayed and unwanted dogs were received by RSPCA in Australia in 2006 – 2007.
- 21,973 dogs were euthanized by RSPCA in Australia during the same time period.
- 1 dog was shown by Habacuc at a Nicaraguan gallery in 2007.
Yet Habacuc gained the most attention regarding the treatment of dogs.
As a performance artist, Habacuc has succeeded in flying colors. Not only was he able to prove his point in an art form, but he was also able to instigate a global discussion on the ethical treatment of animals. To view the issue from a different perspective, if Habacuc had not used his art to illustrate the concept, who would have ever thought about the treatment of stray dogs in a society? Obviously from the above numbers, Australia is no different from any other country. Organizations such as Pet Rescue have spent resources on educating the public to adopt stray and pound animals. Perhaps Australia needs an exhibition like Habacuc’s to drive home the message that this type of problem exists in a developed nation too. It would almost be morally and ethically responsible to convey such a message.
Evidently, the thought of a dog dying of hunger and thirst is hard to accept, even for the sake of art. For an open-minded art lover, the concept is abhorrent. The mainstream society’s moral standpoint dictates that nothing should be sacrificed for art, and especially not man’s best friend. The term “art for art’s sake” does not apply, as this artwork has reached beyond the general comfort level. Nevertheless, would the message still be the same if it were done any other way? If Habacuc had use a different subject, say a stuffed animal dog, would he have achieved the same impact? Most likely not. If we give him the benefit of the doubt and accept his claim that the dog ran away at the day’s end as Bermudez had claimed, is it so horrible that Habacuc “borrowed” his subject for the three hours of the exhibition? One can argue that it is the sacrificing of the small for the greater good. The three hours of captivity Natividad had endured will most likely result in the better treatment of stray dogs in the region. Now, is that so bad? Has not the art served its purpose to bring attention and awareness?
Perhaps, like any good art work, one should see beyond the first layer of appearance and seek deeper for the truth. Outside of all the hoax and viral campaigns, Habacuc’s intention could be genuine. His idea could be counted as somewhat noble and well thought out. The actual execution of the artwork was strong and precise, drawing the amount and the type of attention it deserved. The morality is well in place for the artwork as the advocacy for the animals is a worthy cause. Natividad was not tortured for art, and if he did indeed pass away as part of the exhibition, it was not just for the sake of the art. Natividad is a martyr for stray dogs – in this case the end justifies the means.
Bibliography
Newspapers
Couzens, G. 2008, ‘International: Outrage at 'starvation' of a stray dog for art’, The Observer, 30 March.
Myrtle, R. 2008, ‘Dog chained and starved – in the name of art’, Sunday Tribune, 13 April.
Rutgers. 2008, ‘EDITORIAL: Dog shouldn't be starved in name of art’, U-Wire, 22 April.
Harris, P. 2008, ‘Tied up and close to death, a dog starves in front of ‘art’ lovers. A net stunt or the sickest show ever?’, 25 April.
Web sites
RSPCA. 2007. RSPCA Australia National Statistics 2006-2007.
Euro Weekly
The Artlife
Artful Language: Elitism within the Arts
Sarah Morawetz
Through its -isms and post-isms, philosophy and theory ‘The Arts’ has developed its own elite language: It is complex, coded and self-referential. It was developed to inform a specific community and offers these individuals a specialised understanding. It is a language built on assumed knowledge and principally designed for an informed audience. The development of such a language is the consequence of any specialised industry that needs to communicate information with greater precision and accuracy. Unfortunately, the use of this dialect is not limited to internal exchanges but has become synonymous with every aspect of arts communications. This specialised language presents a vast barrier to the outside world and the modern arts organisation is challenged with the task of conducting their external dialogue in a manner that is welcoming to the uninitiated.
This is no small assignment.
In the public domain of museums and galleries this specialised language is detrimental to the communication and experience of the audience. The language of the arts must be meted to accommodate the diverse experiences of a museum exchange. We would not expect the technical jargon of the medical profession to be served to an unsuspecting audience and similar rules should apply to the arts. The primary users of this coded language (the curator/educator/arts workers) must step back from their institutional training and discover forms of communication that are matched to the needs of both enthusiast and inexperienced: serving both master and apprentice without alienating either.
To accomplish this mission all assumed knowledge must be unpacked, stripped back to its simplest and most inclusive elements. This process is not simply confined to exhibition or language but incorporates every fundamental of the institution. It is an attempt to see the arts from the world outside and explain it with fresh eyes.
The following article is an exploration of assumed knowledge and its impact upon visitor perceptions and audience inclusion. From this discussion a case shall be made for an audience development strategy that can address issues of inaccessibility and elitism within the arts.
Despite considerable efforts, the arts remain (or are at least perceived to be) inaccessible to the wider Australian audience. The report, Australians in the Arts by Saatchi and Saatchi (2000), surveyed a broad spectrum of Australian society to measure the population’s perception of art and culture. The report found that 86% of those surveyed believed the arts needed to be more accessible to the average Australian and that 81% of those surveyed would have improved feelings towards the arts if they were more accessible. These statistics not only exemplify the inaccessibility of current institutions, they show that the existing arts audience shares these sentiments. If an audience that is fundamentally inclined to participate in the arts has indicated a stronger need for accessibility then it is little wonder that those outside the influence of the institution are unwilling to enter.
The report also states that 66% of participants would have a more favourable opinion of the arts if there were ‘less elitist attitudes’ and that 42% of those surveyed perceive the arts as a matter of class. These figures are unsurprising and merely substantiate a growing body of international data. Surveys across Australia, America and the United Kingdom have categorically concluded that social class and educational background are important determinants for cultural participation. While these findings appear to be consistent with the wider Australian audience there is also evidence to suggest that elitism in the arts is not necessarily consistent with its social counterpart.
Whilst the higher standing of the social elite may aide comprehension, it in no way ensures cultural inclusion. Being well paid and well educated does not equate to being well versed in the nuanced language of art and culture. The visual codes and theoretical language of museum practices are an elite dialect in their own right and can prove equally inaccessible to an educated individual. Knowing when one can touch and when one should clap have become behavioural markers of a cultural hierarchy that operates independently from class and wealth. These acts of cultural elitism are carefully referenced to preclude all but the cultural devotee with access to such internal codes.
An investigation of Manchester Art Gallery discovered that visitors were genuinely afraid of being unable to access gallery content. One visitor remarked:
Nobody ever told me how to visit a gallery or view a painting (Black 2005)
This response truly identifies the imposing power of the museum and illustrates that cultural participation is not determined by class but by experience itself. The untrained audience is in need of visual instruction and without such education will be faced with exclusion.
The modern museum has been conceived and fashioned as a secular temple. It is austere, foreboding and etched with institutional authority. To its visitor this façade is one of many coded signs with the interior offering little further encouragement. Although the dark, dusty and dimly lit corridors may no longer be a reality, the museum can still be fraught with perils. A lack of adequate signage in more than one contemporary institution has debunked the existence of usable amenities. Without proper reference simple services sink into the walls: toilets; cloakrooms; shops; and cafés are either given up for dead or frantically searched for at the expense of the visit. Prosaic labels in languid tones are either boring, demeaning (or at worse both) and the regulations about interaction, photography and consumption of water are often in constant flux. The visitor, confronted by feelings of ignorance and inadequacy may be demoralised by the inaccessible state of the institution and in their discomfort and isolation leave the museum with little inclination or incentive to return.
It is imperative that museums do more to prevent such experiences as a matter of their own survival. The museum exists in the fiercely competitive industry of leisure and recreation and must vie against theme parks, movie theatres, sporting events and shopping malls for the limited time and finances of the average consumer. Unlike museums, these other recreations assume very little about the audiences they serve and require no educational standing to get involved. The museum must be careful ‘high brow’ ideals do not alienate its audience. On the other hand there are opportunities for museums to outdo their competitors. Cultural organisations provide a distinction from other leisure sources as they are simultaneously entertainment and education. This combined value is solely dependent on its ability to be converted inside the institution. Whilst wanting the pleasure of discovery, it must be remembered that this is an audience at leisure who do not necessary require or indeed desire any form of intellectual challenge. The modern arts organisation cannot afford to rest on its laurels as an academic institution but must actively seek to entertain its audience and deliver an overall experience.
If arts organizations do not respect and meet the public’s changing needs as to how a product is offered there will be an ever diminishing audience (Walker-Kuhne 2001)
Attempts to generate new markets and new audiences have forced the museum to understand its visitors with greater clarity than ever before. The term Audience Development has been used to describe decisive actions undertaken by arts and cultural organisations to engage their audiences in strategic long-term relationships. Through the evaluation of existing and potential visitors, Audience Development aims to break down the barriers that hinder access to museums and galleries and offer greater accessibility to both collections and services. This initiative requires a holistic and integrated approach involving marketing, commissioning, programming, education and customer care, as well as sustained commitment from all institutional faculties.
In the last 15 years Audience Development has gained considerable currency and has become an emerging priority within the arts sector. The need to explore and embrace new markets has been promoted as an opportunity to break down barriers, build new bridges and discover non-traditional audiences. Approached as a series of long-term community partnerships, Audience Development has been heavily invested in as part of the sustainable future of cultural industries. The Australia Council has invested 1.6 million dollars on 65 nationwide programs in a strategy entitled the ‘Life of the New Audience’ while Museums & Galleries NSW are currently compiling data from 500 regional institutions as part of a three year Audience Development initiative.
This formal pursuit of the disengaged minority audience is not without its criticism. In their article “Rethinking the Missionary Position” Debi Hayes and Alix Slater (2002) argue that development programs that target minorities are instigated as a result of funding rather than direct need. They believe that instead of investing in small social groups (who are unlikely to participate) funding would be better spent developing relationships with the existing audience of an institution. They argue not only are such projects lower risk and less labour intensive, they offer larger and more sustainable rewards. Myopic projects, although ethically and philosophically important have rarely inspired organisational change. These select groups are ferried into the institutional core under largely false pretenses. The larger cultural barriers that contributed to their disengagement are still actively in place and impeding a broad range of cultural experiences for a greater body of people.
The real challenge for modern arts organisations is not to boost appeal with the minorities, but is to gain widespread acceptance with the social majority. In order for this to occur the artful language of museums and galleries must be amended.
The elite systems of language, design and display that impede the accessibility of an enlisted visitor must be addressed before the doors of museums and galleries are propped open for minority audiences. The success of Audience Development rests solely on the institutions ability to follow through with its promises and substantiate its invitation with an inclusive museum experience. If this is not been successfully done for the inclined audience, how can such assurances be offered to the reluctant visitor?
The Saatchi and Saatchi report confirms that the social majority would respond to the arts if the arts themselves were more responsive. The implications of this statement, both social and economic, must surely be considered by art organisations that constantly strive to increase audience and revenue. By creating an Audience Development strategy dedicated to accessibility, the cultural sector can effectively quell its greatest deterrent and offer the arts to a broader audience.
The creation of a more accessible museum experience is to no one’s detriment. The initiated, the interested and the disengaged will all benefit from systems of language that communicate outside a specialised exchange. The ‘art’ of language has always been found in simplicity, within words that can guide the reader through all manner of complexities and engage them in this process. For the sake of the audience and the art itself, the language of art should be no different.
Bibliography
Anderson, G. (2004) Reinventing the Museum: Historical and Contemporary Perspectives on the Paradigm shift, Walnut Creek: Alta Mira Press
Bennett, T. (1994) The Reluctant Museum Visitor – A study of non-goers to history museums and art galleries, Sydney: Australia Council
Bennett, T. (1994) The Reluctant Museum Visitor – A study of non-goers to history museums and art galleries, Sydney: Australia Council
Hooper-Greenhill, E. (1994) Museums and their visitors, London: Routledge Press
Hooper-Greenhill, E (1999) 2nd ed. The Educational Role of the Museum, London: Routledge Press
Walker-Kuhne, D. (2005) Invitation to the Party: Building bridges to the arts, culture and community, New York Theatre Communications Group
Parallel Lines
Lines in the Sand: Botany Bay Stories from 1770 Hazelhurst Regional Gallery and Arts Centre, 29 March – 11 May 2008
Marisa van Eijk
Lines in the Sand: Botany Bay Stories from 1770 examines the many narratives deriving from the events of 1770 and 1788 including Captain Cook’s landing at Botany Bay, colonisation and the eventual dispossession of Indigenous Australians from their lives and land. The exhibition contains both artistic responses by leading colonial artists, as well as responses to these events through artworks created by many of Australia’s leading Indigenous and non-Indigenous artists.
The exhibition has an impressive display of historical documents including Governor Philip Gidley King’s journal and engravings by Joseph Banks and Joseph Lycett from the Dixson Gallery/ Library and Mitchell Gallery in the State Library of NSW and artifacts from the Botany Bay National Park (Kurnell). Curator Ace Bourke, a direct descendent of Governor Philip Gidley King, also brings his own family narrative to the exhibition through his extensive research and private collection of historical artifacts and documents.
As well as presenting the historical artifacts, the exhibition also provides Indigenous Australian artists the opportunity to voice their perspective on the historical narratives of the events of 1770 and 1788 and the consequent repercussions, which included colonisation and displacement of land and lives. Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australian artists including Daniel Boyd, Tracey Moffatt, Gordon Bennett, Guan Wei and Joan Ross provide their perspective on historical events. It is the featuring of such high profile artists that instantly made me consider the reception of this exhibition and how the audience would view the show.
Lines in the Sand also seeks to examine Australia’s and especially the Sutherland Shire’s ongoing fascination with Captain Cook. How do I (as someone born and raised in the Sutherland Shire) see Cook, how do the Australian people see Cook and how does the intended audience (whoever they are) see Cook? Or, are we all only "half seeing" Cook, as identified by Schlunke in her talk about the exhibition? These are questions that surfaced during my visit to the exhibition.
The exhibition is timely and important to the understanding of our history and its making. However the presentation of using parallel narratives raises issues for the audience and needs to be explored. Some of the included works either mock the intelligence of the audience or may be lost in translation as they are only "half seen".
Daniel Boyd’s Captain No Beard sets the mood as eerily humorous and instantly makes me wonder what type of audience this exhibition is designed for and what messages are being presented and absorbed.
The three works that follow are Emanuel Phillips Fox’s impressive Landing of Captain Cook at Botany Bay 1770 (1902), Daniel Boyd’s appropriation of Fox’s Landing, We Call Them Pirates Out Here (2006) and Boyd’s sand sculpture, Untitled (2006), interestingly a re-presentation of the exhibition's title: Lines in the Sand.
Boyd’s painting explores the historical narratives of the events of 1770 by appropriating Fox’s work through its use of irony and humor. Cook, dressed as a pirate, eye patch and all, is stopping his men from firing upon the “black boys”, the first European name for the plant we now call "grass trees". As we examine both paintings more closely we see that the Aborigines of Fox’s painting have been replaced by the grass trees in Boyd’s. The subtext evident in an appropriated artwork is not so hidden in Boyd’s case. Captain No Beard and We Call Them Pirates Out Here draws open parallels to the Europeans as thieves, and likens them to tales of the famous pirate. Items such as Cook’s parrot and pirate flag ensure that all subtlety in relaying meaning is disregarded.
It may not only be this lack of subtlety that makes the audience uneasy and unable to fully engage with Boyd’s painting. What if our subjective viewing of the work is being distorted or blocked? Katrina Schlunke, a lecturer of Cultural Studies at the University of Technology, Sydney, is the author of many texts investigating Cook, his position in “Popular Australian Imagination” and his ‘iconicity which has made him a social and cultural phenomenon’ (Schlunke). In a talk she gave at Hazelhurst Regional Gallery on April 13, “Captain Cook’s Eye-patch”, she discussed the exhibition, focusing on Daniel Boyd’s painting and ways in which we see and more importantly do not see, or only half see, Captain Cook. Schlunke comments:
The Cook that is a presence, a governing order, within non-indigenous Australia should not be seen but assumed. As an assumption, Cook organizes the Australian nation into a white possession – seeing Cook. But the eye-patch also suggests a damaged Cook... (Schlunke)
It seems as though it was through the eye-patch that our European nation was established and through which the exhibition may be viewed. As Schlunke says, “half blinded we look at Cook again”; the half blinded audience engages with this exhibition.
It is this that again leads me to wonder at the nature of the intended audience. The installation of the contemporary Indigenous perspectives next to the historical artifacts highlights their historical relationship and has the potential to create a very successful and powerful response within the audience. However it becomes clear that quite a lot of the viewers might only be half seeing the exhibition, as they skim past the works with true subtext to view “pretty pictures”. This viewing of the exhibition with a metaphorical eye-patch may be due to the positioning of the exhibition in the Sutherland Shire and the Shire’s cultural sensibility being entwined with Hazelhurst Regional Gallery’s own sensibilities.
Gordon Bennett is one of the main contemporary artists who is able to effectively and powerfully communicate an Indigenous Australian perspective of the historical narratives of European Australia’s early days. All three of his exhibited works comment on events of 1770 and 1788 and are created using a combination of western contemporary art materials, painted in the traditional Aboriginal style of dot painting. His paintings are appealing because even though they are rich in social commentary, it is subtle and inviting, unlike Boyd’s. His painting Australian Icon (Notes on Perception No. 1) (1989) displays an image of Cook with image or perception of an indigenous Australian (perhaps Pemulwuy) etched onto his retina. The work presents the Cook that we see in history books and is present locally as the crest of the Sutherland Shire Council; however the image of the Aboriginal man in the work changes the way we view Cook. We see him and we think about his perception of indigenous Australians as well as our own perception. Bennett allows us to fully see Cook’s vision as well as make the audience ‘see’ and think about the Aboriginal perception of Cook.
The exhibition room sheet states that a counter narrative of resistance is an interwoven thread in an exhibition that asks the viewer to consider and acknowledge Botany Bay as a site ‘where histories meet’ as stated by Marea Nugent (Nugent). This narrative of resistance between our two histories is evident in Jonathan Jones’ artwork. Jones’ work Mark Making (2007) is a somewhat site specific work that examines resistance through mixed media. His work is a combination of an image of the Endeavor created by gluing red beads onto the canvas; two other similar canvases and footings cut into the gallery wall to represent axe cuts in trees. The beads representing an item that was used by the Europeans to, as Jones draws our attention to, “charm and disarm the natives”.
Select works in this exhibition, such as Guan Wei’s and Jones’, are lost in translation and not completely understood, or half seen. Based largely on my own observation of viewers as well as remarks made in the comments book. The following statement was made by an anonymous visitor. It was not a one off and three out of approximately 20 comments held the same concern:
This is disgusting, you have allowed the interior of the gallery to be defaced. I hope the person who allowed it pays for it to be repaired and not the rate payers. Who approved such vandalism?
While the narrative of resistance is quite prevalent in most of the artworks by the contemporary indigenous artists, Tracey Moffatt’s film deals with resistances of a different kind. Nice Coloured Girls (1987), like many of her works, seems to explore a type of resistance through acceptance. Moffatt’s film, created early in her career, examines and presents the social problems and socio-economic status of current urban and rural contemporary aboriginals. She discusses issues such as drug use, prostitution and a struggle with a lack of identity through a presentation of contemporary images coupled with historical texts such as journals and diaries of the pioneers of early European settlement.
Curator Ace Bourke has included the film as it is a powerful work which captures the viewer through its strong, bold imagery and loud music/ narration which confront the erosion of traditional indigenous lives. Moffatt’s work is poignant and was one of the highlights of the contemporary art in this exhibition for me. It was just a pity that it was not working on one of my visits, ensuring that not only me but many other visitors missed out on viewing this perspective.
The narrative of "otherness" as a reference system and its representation throughout European colonial history is also presented.
Guan Wei’s Echo appropriates nine images of Europeans exploring the Pacific Ocean in the 17th and 18th centuries. As the artist states in the catalogue:
The large work is constructed using the ancient Chinese 'intellectual' landscape painting style from the Quing Dynasty… and represents the high aesthetic achievement of the 17th century
In the painting the Europeans look like a group of bandits, seizing the land from the indigenous Australians but if examined closely the hidden subtext surfaces. Echo becomes a reminder that we are living in an historical arena where cultures from many regions and races are much more integrated than in the past (Guan Wei 2008). In my opinion his large work represents the coming together of narratives presented in Lines in the Sand. Narratives of colonization and dispossession, from both European and contemporary Aboriginal points of view, as well as resistance and otherness are all presented by Guan Wei who notes that we need to “improve our communication and understanding across cultures to review and transcend ‘otherness’ and search for a new universal value in human life".
Sadly, maybe because of its sheer enormity or the unusual and dull palette, Guan Wei’s work, like Jonathon Jones’, was overlooked by many of the viewers in the gallery. They chose to head straight for the colourful paintings by Fox, Boyd, Gore and Lycett and simply walk past Echo without even stopping to glance. This once more leads me to consider whether the experience of the exhibition is had by the audience or whether they only half see what is on view. This observation is upheld by reading the comments book containing comments such as ‘Too much intellectualism, not enough truth, some pretty pictures though’ (Smith 2008).
Lines in the Sand concludes with a strange series of juxtapositions. One wall is covered with newspaper clippings celebrating various anniversaries of the past two centuries: catalogues, photos and gallery paraphernalia of previous exhibitions of artists such as Bennett, Riley and Moffatt. These, along with the books on the Kurnell/ Botany Bay region and the traditional inhabitants of this area, the Dharawal people, make me wonder what the reasoning is. Is it to celebrate the successes of Indigenous Australian artists or simply or demonstrate to an audience with a sense of connection through location to the events of 1770-1788 that some of these dispossessed people are doing ok for themselves? The exhibition is very well researched and the collection of works is quite extensive but I can’t help but wonder about some of the decisions made regarding the selection of some contemporary works and their placement in the gallery among the historical paintings, documents and artifacts. Is this just a different way of half seeing narratives associated with our past?
The room sheet concludes with the following remarks:
Daniel Boyd’s sand installation Untitled sums up the exhibition. It not only references the sand sculpture of the Australian Central and Western Desert Aborigines… but also the ripples and repercussions that are still being felt today from the arrival of The Endeavor in Botany Bay
The extensive collection of works and perspectives presented successfully highlight these ‘ripples and repercussions’. However much of the exhibition may be lost on an audience who themselves might be viewing it as though wearing Cook’s eye-patch.
Bibliography
Hazelhurst. (2008). Exhibition Catalogue: Lines in the Sand: Botany Bay Stories from 1770. Sydney: Hazelhurst Regional Gallery and Arts Centre
Nugent, M. (2008). In Hazelhurst (Ed.), Exhibition Room Sheet: Lines in the Sand: Botany Bay Stories from 1770. Sydney: Hazelhurst Regional Gallery and Arts Centre.
Schlunke, K. (2008). Talk: Captain Cook's Eye-patch. Sydney: Hazelhurst Regional Gallery and Arts Centre.
Should a contemporary art museum collect?
Paul Cezanne, 1839 - 1906, Avenue at the Jas de Bouffan, 1871, oil on canvas, National Gallery, London. Transferred from the Tate, 1996
Stewart Reed
On the 3rd April 2008, John Kaldor, a long time supporter of the visual arts in Sydney, donated his collection of contemporary art to the Art Gallery of New South Wales. The Art Gallery trumpeted this as “the most extraordinary single gift of works of art to an Australian public gallery”. It was extraordinary indeed with 260 works collected since the 1960s with a current value of $35 million dollars. The AGNSW will be creating an extra 1,000 square metres of exhibition space at the gallery for the Kaldor collection as the NSW government and the Belgiorno-Nettis family are stumping up the money to transform existing storage space to display Kaldor’s collection and building an off site replacement storage facility.
In the Sydney Morning Herald, John Kaldor said that he had decided to give his collection to the Art Gallery of NSW because it was “the premier collecting institution” However, about a fortnight later, The Australian, noting Kaldor’s chairmanship of the Museum of Contemporary Art from 1997 to 2002, asked whether it was a snub to the MCA.Kaldor restated his view that “I believe the (AGNSW) is the logical choice because it is the premier collecting body in NSW and (it has) the space to show it, which the MCA hasn't.” Elizabeth Ann Macgregor, the MCA’s Director stated:
The truth of the matter is, we are delighted the collection is coming to Sydney. It is more appropriate for it to be at the Gallery. For us to dedicate so much space and resources to one collection would not be right. We just don't have the resources to store the collection, nor do we have the exhibiting space.
Macgregor is, of course, aware of the exhibition and storage limitations at the MCA. The Kaldor collection requires 1,000 square metres of display space of the MCA’s total space of 2,700 square metres and its presence would affect the MCA’s exhibition program. Apart from the mechanics of resources and exhibition space, the MCA response raises a question - should a museum of contemporary art collect, or should it dedicate its resources to exhibiting, interpreting and researching contemporary artists?
An extreme view is that the MCA should only show the very latest works – created in the last ten years. But this would stop exhibitions by artists considered contemporary, including the current Fiona Hall retrospective which includes works going back to the 1980s. As Kaldor started collecting over forty years ago, his gift includes many works created before 1998. Ten years is obviously too short a period but what is the right time frame – 10, 40 or 100? In order to start looking at this question of whether to collect or not, we need to try and ascertain how contemporary is contemporary? Unfortunately this is not an easy task.
There are a myriad of definitions for “contemporary” but none are definitive in the context of artworks. They include “living or occurring at the same time”, “following modern ideas and fashions”(Moore, 2004, p. 273) and “of the present time” (Delbridge, 2001, p. 418).
Terry Smith in What is Contemporary Art? (2001) offers a number of definitions. He also provides a working definition when he comments on the then NSW Premier Bob Carr’s views of the MCA. Smith states: “The point is that the MCA aims only to present art since the 1960s and 1970s. Mr Carr contrasts it, unfavourably, to museums that take on the whole of modern art since 1880 or 1900. The MCA attempts nothing like this scope. He mixes up ‘modern’ and ‘contemporary’.” The museums mentioned by Carr and referred to by Smith were the Los Angeles and San Francisco Museums of Contemporary Art. (Smith, 2001). Carr is not alone. A tome weighing several kilos, Contemporary Artists states in its introduction that it includes 800 of the most significant artists of our time but it does not include artists who died before 1965 (Cerrito,1996, p. vii). As many artists live into their 90s, this definition could include artists working as early as 1900.
As his lecture was given in 2001, Smith implies that "contemporary" art is the art of the last forty years or so. This is a workable definition and I will use it in this article. However, changing the length of the period does not alter the arguments for or against contemporary museums collecting.
The MCA has six "collections". While it only opened in November 1991, it inherited the Power collection from the University of Sydney. This is in two parts: the 1,031 works by John Power and works from the 1960s onwards acquired by the staff of the Power Institute. In 1995, Loti and Victor Smorgon gave the MCA their collection, consisting of 154 works by Australian artists of the 1980s and 1990s. The Maningrida Collection of Aboriginal Art has 600 works which are held in trust on behalf of the Maningrida community. The Ramingining Collection of Aboriginal Art was collected in the 1980s and consists of 200 works. The Arnott's Biscuits Collection of Aboriginal Bark Paintings of 285 works from the 1960s to 1980s was donated to the MCA in 1993. The final collection is the MCA’s own collection which it has acquired by purchase or donation since 1991. In 2005, the MCA purchased 15 works and received 7 works as donations. This means that the MCA now has a collection of over 5,000 works.
The MCA vision is “Engaging with contemporary art and ideas”. A supporting statement claims “to make the MCA an internationally respected and locally valued national organisation dedicated to exhibiting, interpreting and collecting contemporary art”. The question is — are the collections still contemporary? Using the definition above (i.e. around forty years), they currently are — with the exception of the works by John Power. It can be argued that this is a special collection and could remain at the MCA as a “collection within a collection”.
Just around the corner from the MCA, the Customs House recently exhibited Sustainable Sydney 2030 . What should happen to the MCA collection in 2030? A large part of it (over 50%?) will be over forty years old. Should it still be at the MCA? Where could it go? Is this an argument for the MCA not to collect?
All contemporary art museums, including the MCA, should have the freedom to collect. Other museums created for modern art (as contemporary art was called when they were set up) include the Museum of Modern Art in New York and the Tate in London. The idea of a single state institution being the only body allowed to collect contemporary art is unrealistic and short sighted. While institutions buy art works, the decisions are made by people and as much diversity and choice is to be encouraged. Similarly, potential donors and bequeathers are attracted to different institutions for different reasons. However, there is a proviso: the museum must be willing to dispose of works that are no longer deemed to be contemporary at the appropriate time. The contemporary art museum must have policies that allow the museum to de-access and dispose of works that no longer meet its collections management criteria. Deaccessioning and disposal must become a routine and non-emotive activity for a contemporary art museum to remain contemporary. Some museum managers and curators are wary of de-accession because they believe it could affect donations to their museum. This has been exacerbated by some of the “deaccessioning scandals”.
One of the FAQs on the MCA website is: “Does the MCA sell works of art?” Although this appears so that the art museum is not confused with a commercial gallery and it provides this answer:
The MCA is “dedicated to the exhibition, interpretation and collection of the art and ideas of today” (MCA Collection Policy 2003), and does not sell art works to the public. It exhibits artists' works, which are either on loan from artists or other institutions and collections, and it acquires art works for the MCA collection through purchase and gift.
Before even considering deaccessioning and disposal, the acquisition policy of a contemporary museum would need to be amended to state that its collections, whether acquired by purchase or donation, will eventually be deaccessioned. The method of disposal needs to be outlined at the time of acquisition. However, in today’s museum world, it is generally accepted that any deaccessioning is only a last resort. This attitude needs to change and the museum would have to clearly state that a time in the future, all works would be deaccessioned to ensure the collection remains contemporary. The preferred deaccession and disposal process for ex-contemporary works is surely the transfer of the work to another institution where, in theory, it could continue to be available for display. This may also lead to closer co-operation between institutions which could bring other benefits to all.
An alternative to this idea would be to refuse to accept donations but only to accept long term loans so the lender, or family, has their work offered back to them at the time it was no longer considered contemporary. This is not far from today’s accepted practice in New South Wales museums where any donated deaccessioned work is initially offered back to the donor or the family when the donor has passed away. The situation where the donor cannot be traced or refuses to accept the work will of course also need to be covered in the museums’ policies.
With the application of sound judgement and commonsense, these policy and procedural issues are not insurmountable. Most of the components are already in place. The major managerial change for museums collecting contemporary art would be that deaccessioning and disposal would be a regular part of their operations rather than the very rare event it is today. It would take some time to implement this change. Transfers have already occurred, but usually on a one off basis. In London, the National Gallery and the Tate had an agreement from 1927 stating that 1875 was the dividing line between their non-British collections. In 1996, it was revised to 1900 (the Tate is for Modern art, not just contemporary) and a number of works were exchanged (Riding, 1996). A major change in the French collections occurred with the opening of the Georges Pompidou Centre (1970s) and the Musée d’Orsay (1980s). When the Museo Nacional Centro de arte Reina Sofia opened in Madrid in 1992, the Prado transferred over 2,000 works. The Spanish Government’s elegant solution to the starting date for the new museum’s collection was 1881 – when Picasso was born.
The major issue is the mindset change at both the personal and institutional level. At the personal level, all staff at contemporary art museums would have to accept this new way of working. One of the key difficulties is the basic human instinct to hoard, especially prevalent in museum staff. However, there are some who are already convinced. In 2003, Tate Director, Nicolas Serota, said: “We have to be both less possessive and more imaginative in sharing items which are already in the public domain”(Lewis, Page 380).
It would involve a great amount of co-operation between institutions as well as changes in philosophy and strategy in contemporary art museums.
We will need to be patient.
Bibliography
- Cerrito, Joan (Editor), Contemporary Artists 4th Edition, St James Press, Detroit, Michigan, 1996.
- Delbridge, A (Editor), Macquarie Dictionary, Federation Edition, Macquarie Library, North Ryde, 2001.
- Kaldor Art Projects href="http://www.kaldorartprojects.org.au/pastprojects.asp">http://www.kaldorartprojects.org.au/pastprojects.asp
- Lewis, Geoffrey,'The “Universal Museum”: A Case of Special Pleading?',in Hoffman, Barbara T (Ed.) Art and Cultural Heritage: Law, Policy and Practice, Cambridge University Press, Walnut Creek, California 2004.
- Museums and Galleries NSW, Deaccession and disposal in small museums, Museums and Galleries NSW, Viewed 24th April 2008.
- Riding, Alan, National Gallery and the Tate Swap Art, New York Times, New York, NY, 25th September 1996
- Simpson Lawyers, Deaccessioning and Disposal
- Smith, Terry, What is Contemporary Art? Contemporary Art, Contemporaneity and Art to Come, Artspace Visual Art Centre, Woolloomooloo, 2001.
- University of New South Wales, University Museums and Collections Policy, University of New South Wales
Lucy Day
“I can break any habit except collecting.”
This was John Kaldor’s response to a journalist’s question when asked why he had made public his gift to the Art Gallery of New South Wales of his private art collection, conservatively valued at AUD 35 million.
Kaldor’s drug of choice is a genuine desire for art, in particular the contemporary and avant-garde. His collection, amassed over half a century, contains seminal works from the world’s most pivotal contributing contemporary and avant-garde artists of our time.
John Kaldor began collecting in his early twenties. At first he collected Classical and Egyptian antiques and abstract paintings. About a decade later, in 1964, Kaldor purchased his first considerable pieces whilst in Europe . In London he bought two sculptures by the Scottish artist Eduardo Paolozzi; Paris Bird 1948 and Figure 1958. These were followed by Roy Lichtenstein’s, Peanut Butter Cup 1968. The Lichtenstein Pop art was acquired through Paris art dealer Ileana Sonnabend, which marked the beginning of a warm relationship between the two. Sonnabend continued to supply Kaldor with Pop art from the U.S. Interestingly enough, around this time Roy Lichtenstein attracted headlines such as “worst artist in the U.S?” Kaldor, a man who is driven by his own tastes, and not those dictated by others, was simply enthralled by Lichtenstein’s work and certainly not discouraged by the bad press. He says that collecting “...is a very personal and private activity”, one which he has shared with his family. He was born in 1936 in Budapest, but when he was a child his family fled as refugees to Paris, before heading to make a home in Sydney. The five months he spent as a 12 year-old in Paris were a time of introduction to the Arts. Kaldor’s memories include trips he made with his mother to galleries and museums, his family advocating the best use of the time spent there in case they were never able to return.
After completing high school in Sydney, Kaldor spent some time in England training in textiles with his godfather, Sir Nicholas Sekers, who was also his parents’ business partner. In the years after World War II Sekers was a pioneer of British textiles who also had a penchant for collecting art. Zurich was the next stop for more study under the eye of Professor Itten, an original founding member of the Bauhaus in Germany. On his return to Australia in 1957, Kaldor embarked upon a career as a designer with the company, Sekers Silk, owned by his parents and Sir Nicholas Sekers. Business trips abroad facilitated his exposure to and knowledge of the kind of art that was then less well-known in Australia.
1965 saw the beginning of Kaldor sharing his private passion for contemporary art with the public when he initiated the Alcorso-Sekers Traveling Scholarship for Sculpture. This first philanthropic contribution preceded one of this country's most memorable art projects, which would put John Kaldor at the forefront of supporting cutting edge international art.
Australia in 1969 was a country without its own national art gallery, but with some provincially focused state galleries and few regional galleries. The Sydney Opera House was yet to be completed, and the Biennale of Sydney did not exist. In terms of international interest Australia in the late 1960s was not on the map as a contemporary arts hub. Instead it attracted a new life for European immigrants and provided Sydney in particular, with a flurry of American soldiers who saw the city as a leisure zone; to entertain themselves and wind down with drugs and women.
This was the context for John Kaldor’s dream project; two artists at the beginning of their careers, joining with their patron, commencing a journey to bring the latest and the best of art to Sydney. He had seen an illustration of the 5,500 Cubic Meter Package work by young New York based artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude. This was an air filled column sculpture standing 85 meters high, made of synthetic fabric. Excited by the work, Kaldor introduced himself to the two artists during a trip to New York, which began a relationship that still stands strong today. Letters he wrote to Christo in the beginning of 1969 explained his personal desire (along with financial assistance from Alcorso-Sekers), to bring outstanding young artists to Australia benefiting both local artists and the general public. Kaldor asked Christo and Jeanne-Claude to come to Australia to give lectures and lead talks, but the artist had a better idea. Christo proposed creating an art sculpture: the wrapping of a part of coastline, the idea so appealed to Kaldor, he promised to make it happen. Kaldor secured the loan of a section of the Little Bay coast line for the Christo and Jean-Claude sculpture entitled Wrapped Coast - One Million Square Feet, Little Bay, Sydney 1969.
The Wrapped Coast sculpture was of huge proportions, 2.4 Kilometres of coast were wrapped in an agricultural material and secured with rope. The project sought the help of labourers, engineers, art students/teachers and rock climbers to complete the sculpture that was erected for seven weeks from 28 October 1969.
When he embarked on the project with Christo and Jeanne-Claude it is curious as to whether Kaldor actually had any concept of how far-reaching the project would be in promoting the artists and their work, as well as the wider consequences for Australia. There was no benchmark for its success, however it was very much a success in terms of its effect on the non-art world.
Daniel Thomas, who was then Senior Curator at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, remembers well the impact of Christo. “The Wrapped Coast was huge, but not on me or the art world,” he says. “Its effect was, I think, most salutary on the mainstream media. I felt they began reporting progress at Little Bay with fairly conventional sneers about ‘Is this art?’, but then were overtaken by a huge groundswell of genuine interest and wonder and delight from the non-art world.”
Both Thomas and Tony Tuckson, who was the Art Gallery of New South Wales’ Deputy Director, welcomed Kaldor’s initiative. “It was a way of supplementing the Australian public's awareness of newest international art,” says Thomas.
The impact
