Meat

David Lynch did paintings that incorporated nature in an odd way.. he put meat in the middle of a painting and allowed it to decay and be eaten. As ants attacked the meat, they affected the paint and the aesthetic of the piece.

"That roast beef has gone through a strange metamorphosis. It was bigger when I started, but one day a squirrel came by and took a big hunk out of it. I'm kinda workin' with it." -David Lynch


Rat Meat Bird
(detail, in the process of creation)
1996, 127 x 152,4 cm


Rat Meat Bird
1996, 127 x 152,4 cm


Abject artist Carolee Schneemann did a performance piece in 1964 called Meat Joy, featuring eight partially nude figures dancing and playing with various objects and substances including wet paint, sausage, raw fish, scraps of paper, and raw chickens. It was first performed in Paris and was later filmed and photographed as performed by her Kinetic Theater group at Judson Memorial Church. She described the piece as an "erotic rite" and an indulgent Dionysian "celebration of flesh as material. (wikipedia)


For the third project Bran and I initially wanted to make the buildings look like they were wounded with fake blood and the impression of flesh. Then we decided against it, and hung little packages of fake blood and raw meat from lines of string. They hung from the cafeteria balcony and under the Kudzu Valley bridge. Within the hour, someone had called the cops and the cafeteria meat was taken down. Allegedly a janitor was waving a broom at them exclaiming, "that's some meat, that's some bloody meat," so there certainly was a response. What I hoped would happen was that people would see the packages and question what they were, why they were there, and even consider whether the installation was art or just a gross prank. However, I have no way of knowing what people thought when they saw the installation or what kinds of conversation they inspired.
A system is a whole composed of parts, so this system was composed of pieces of meat that were installed publicly to confront people and evoke reaction. Whether they were considered threatening, were a health code violation, could have attracted and upset the neighboring wild dogs or other animals, etc. .. the cops decided they needed to come down. I think it was sort of proof of the effectiveness of the system- it was removed to prevent further reaction and response. The cops taking the meat down was supposed to stop the system from being in motion, but was in fact contributing to the motion.

Authority and Art

In class Tuesday we discussed authority and artwork. In a gallery, it is clear that the artist (and the gallery) has authority- you are not to touch the artwork, you are not to look at things that are not art (such as fire alarms or cameras), you are even to maintain a slow walking pace (as Bob brought up - otherwise the guards will scrutinize you). There is a sense that viewers' involvement is limited to pausing and looking. This year for Sculpture I carved a piece of alabaster stone in order for it to be touched and held by viewers. In my statement I did not instruct people to touch it, rather gave subtle permission. When I realized that people were too cautious of the stigma of the gallery to actually touch it, I began telling people directly that they could and should touch it, as it was made for its tactile experience. If I was not in the gallery, many of my friends were still nervous to touch it or hold it because of the judgments of other viewers. Now I keep the piece in my room and allow people to hold it there, where they are generally more liberal in their handling of it. This basically proved to me the stiffness of the gallery experience and the authority of the space.

At the commons, there was a sign on one of the doors instructing "Please do not use this door" and a recycling bin was put in front of the door for good measure while the door was being fixed. After the bin was moved, some people still followed the sign's instruction and did not use the door. Others pushed through the door with no regard to the sign, either having failed to read it or ignoring it with the belief that it was now kosher to use. I saw a student warn a friend not to use the door because of the sign to which he replied "this door has been fixed for like a week" and tore the sign off of the door. He took authority.
Robert put caution tape across one of the entrances to a school building and people trusted the tape's authority and walked around the building. No one took authority to rip through the tape or duck under it to use the door anyway. Robert wanted people to take that authority and challenge the (apparently extremely accessible) tape.
When is it appropriate to take authority over someone's artwork?







"Two city construction road signs near the University of Texas were hacked Monday morning warning the residents of Austin that a zombie attack was imminent." (Ganked this from woostercollective.com)

We also talked about the artist's authority over art. In generative art, when the artist allows external forces to take part in the process, does the artist still have authority? Where does authority go? If an artist creates a machine in order for the machine to produce the art, does the artist still own the work? They may not have absolute control over the process, but they set that organism or machine in motion, right? How much chance has to be involved in an artist's system before it is no longer their work?
When I was hanging the paint drawings from the marble machine Alex and I made, Berta pointed and said, "You?" I wasn't sure how to answer. Are Alex and I the artists? We are artists of the machine, but does that make the art ours? That indirect connection gets blurry to me.

More explosives

Artist Cai Guo-Qiang (pronounced sigh gwo chang) takes mark-making to a whole new level with explosives.











His input is the scale of the project, the design of the gunpowder and probably so much more that I can't even conceive of, but the explosion that burns the gunpowder and chars the surfaces is the activation of the mark-making machine.

Mark-making

Michel Gondry, Bjork, and a Paint Piano

"Michel Gondry uses inspiration from his son's art class to devise a contraption in which Bjork plays role of guinea pig."



I thought this was just an interesting way of mark-making. I'm not sure how specific the relationship is between the notes Bjork plays and the paint that is released, but the connection between music making and visual art is interesting.


What constitutes the difference between the artist's "input" and what "activates" a mark-making machine?
I define input as the artist's direct influence on the machine's function. For example, an artist dips tree branches in ink then allows the wind to direct the branches, making marks on some kind of paper or other surface. The artist's input would be setting up this machine- applying the ink and setting up the paper (distance from the tree matters- this is an artistic/intellectual choice). The activation, or the act that actually starts the mark-making process, here is the wind. We generally think of visual artists as people whose input is the direct activation of mark-making, in other words, we draw, paint, erase, etch, etc. to create marks. Why let something else in on that process? Why let something else have control over our art? For one thing, I find that I often don't feel completely in control of the pieces that I produce. When I feel in control, it is probably a tedious assignment-oriented piece that is focused on technical mastery. I find that conceptual pieces are driven by the "happy accidents" that are brought about when the artist does not plan for something/does not have total control.
I began to realize last year that my art does not have to be a total reflection of me in that it is solely a product of my marks, my intentions. Many environmental artists set up their sculptures, architecture, etc. in a natural environment so that nature becomes involved in the piece's development. Herb Parker covers his pieces in sod, which over time look more natural, as if they have grown out of the ground, then the sod dies.

Dominoes

"The way things go"


This is a pretty epic machine that functions on its own without the artist's interference. What makes this succession of events an art performance?
The flying flaming skull, reminiscent of the headless horseman, wouldn't be nearly as dramatic if it had not taken several minutes of dominoes, chemical reactions, etc. for it to activate. The almost tediousness of the process towards this climactic moment where there is actual pause (focus) on one object that makes it a dynamic performance.
The fact that it is a succession of events, each acting as catalysts for the next act, makes the piece feel narrative. It feels like I'm following a story, and if I start to get carried away with that idea while I watch the footage, I begin to create a narrative that each explosion or whatever represents to create an unfolding story.

Machines..

Theo Jenson is both artist and engineer. He creates mechanical creatures that are intended to live on their own on the beaches, propelled by the wind. I find his work fascinating- he believes that these beasts have a life of their own. He acts as a god, designing the creatures, which then are released into nature to be given life by the wind. The video explains different survival traits he has given them over the years so that they are not destroyed by the ocean or storms. He still has a level of involvement in their lives, but says that ultimately, they should one day be able to sustain themselves without him.

If they can sustain themselves, does it mean that they are living?
What makes these creatures different species?
Can we really say that they have evolved, or is it just Theo's development of their design that is evolving? What is the difference?





"Marius Watz is a Norwegian artist and curator who originally took his point of departure doing graphics for the raves of the early nineties. In his current artistic practice he focuses on computationally generated form, describing his own style as a particular brand of visual hedonism, marked by colourful organic shapes and a 'more is more' attitude. His work has been shown at many international festivals and exhibitions. Marius is currently organizing the conference and exhibition Generator.x in Oslo, Norway. This event deals with the current role of software and generative strategies in art and design."

This article is worth looking over- Marius makes some interesting points. At first, he's commenting on Generative Art and defining it, then gets more into his art and some of his projects. One in particular is a web spider he created that analyzes information from any and all kinds of sources online. It constantly reads websites, analyzes them, and prints out a receipt. Eventually the room is filled with these receipts, which become ridiculous to attempt to understand. He says, "There is something magical yet pathetic about this smart machine doing such an obviously unintelligent thing..." I thought there was some irony to the idea that the machine is smart- we think of it as an intelligent organism because it can analyze data quicker than and without the bias of human beings, but its capabilities are limited to just that.


At a Digital Art Symposium at UNCG last year I got to experience the artwork of Chris Baker. His Urban Echo Series consists of some kind of program that projects text messages onto buildings. The texts, which can be sent from anyone, anywhere, appear long enough to be read before tumbling and interacting with the architecture (falling around windows, etc.).
This isn't a great video but it gets the point across-



So what or where is the art in this process? The designer, Chris, doesn't send the text messages - that's up to public interaction. Is it the public involvement? Is this art?