manchester artists' bonfire 2012
Yesterday was the second Manchester Artists' Bonfire. My review of last year's inaugural event can be found here. The event website can be read here.
My piece was second to burn, and went up well, being made from twigs cable-tied together and wrapped in newspaper. Images of the figure, Flag bearer, below.
What I found to be the more memorable pledges on the night were:
Topp and Dubio who came from the Hague to burn a book that was the product of a previous project. They delivered their pledge as a brief, funny performance. They were also very nice, friendly people.
Debbie Sharp who last year burned a hard drive as a comment on the digitisation of photography, this year burned a print of a photograph she took during a poll tax demonstration in 1989. Apart from anything else this drew a neat parallel between the last Tory administration and the current coalition government.
Future Foundation Collective produced the most visually striking piece with a giant head, well over a metre high. Unfortunately it couldn't be burned as a single piece, and had to be broken up. It would have been fascinating if the central card support could have been removed and the head put on the fire whole to see whether it would take off like a Chinese lantern.
Louise Woodcock burned a bear originally intended for Everything's Great! - her exhibition with Jennifer McDonald, Helen Shanahan, and Gary Fisher, opening tomorrow (Saturday 28 January) in Rochdale at 2pm. Wearing a fetching dildo the bear was apparently too explicit for the show. Because it's common knowledge that people who visit art shows in shopping districts have never seen a penis, and would die of shock if confronted by one.
Becca Hunter brought along both a painting and a sketch, and in the end chose to burn the painting. The pledge was a way of affirming her dedication to making art. Like many of the pledges this one was physically small, but seemed to have great personal significance.
Rosanne Robertson, organiser of the event this year and last burned a disposable overall from a performance she carried out in Germany last year.
Fiona Ledgard burnt a collage piece revisiting a work she'd been unable to create at school. This marked a year during which she's been able, as a member of Womb, to begin to tap into her creativity, both in music and beyond.
Richard Shields attended but didn't burn last year. This year he burnt a box representing, among other things, his understandable discomfort with the idea of burning culture.
In the interests of openness, I know Debbie, Louise, Rosanne, and Fiona. This may have influenced my opinion.
A number of themes came up frequently:
There were those making specific political points about cuts in arts funding, or more widely about the coalition government, and/or capitalism.
There were those making more personal statements, most frequently either clearing old work out of the way, or reaffirming their belief in the future (sometimes both).
There were those for whom the bonfire was part of larger, ongoing projects.
Finally there were those either refusing to burn work - ironically enough (if you've read my review from last year) including my friend Jennifer McDonald. I have a degree of sympathy with this view, and with Jen's preference to create art in the face of adversity. At the same time I feel objects are cheap and transient, but ideas and creativity are incredibly precious and much harder to destroy.
My piece represented the contradictions I feel about government versus private funding of the arts. It seems to be commonly believed that private funding is more compromising for an artist's integrity. But public funding has the reputation of being meagre, and requiring projects to meet narrow criteria of measurable value.
I also wanted to reflect my experience in China. In the fact the sculpture was painted, which refers to the way my art opened up to colour and light during the residency, and in the flag made of Chinese banknotes, nodding to the capitalist values driving China's growing economic dominance. There are also issues of freedom of speech, which remains very proscribed in China. The country also underwent the Cultural Revolution which was devastating for artists, among many others.
The event ran more smoothly, but felt less populated and more subdued than last year.
After the bonfire came Cough It Up!, the afterparty gig of sound-art and music.
DJ Mark Scott held the evening together with some interesting and effective choices despite a considerably smaller audience than it deserved.
Debbie Sharp opened proceedings seamlessly with a piece of sound-art that you could have ignored as an especially bloody-minded selection of records. It included a sample of someone coughing.
I'll be honest and admit I wasn't especially paying attention for most of the set. Partly because I think I was talking to Topp & Dubio at the time. Apologies to Debbie. What I remember I enjoyed. It was intrusive and unusual for people perhaps expecting dance music.
Noise Research by being on stage rather than to the side of it were more obviously performers demanding of attention.
Again I'll have to make a confession, around two years ago I would have had a lot more sympathy for, and understanding of the sounds being made. But as I've written previously I've gradually moved to the point where sound-art tends to feel academic and sexless, and to prefer music. For that reason I can't really make an honest review.
But there were some tremendous sounds, especially the more abrasive, unusual ones, and the beats.
I'm afraid to say I didn't enjoy My Disabled Daughter. Now I've heard good things about them from people whose opinions I trust and value so I'm going to take the recommendations at face value. Next time there's a chance to see them I'll take it, and I'm willing to change my mind.
On the night I was open to whatever they produced but just didn't connect with it. I found the first song sexist, although I may have missed the point - it may simply have been the welter of cliche that constituted the lyrics. And that for me was part of the problem, everything about the set felt secondhand.
[Edit 28 January 2012 - I'd like to clarify that it seems I did miss the point of the first song, which like the others was written around cards of the Tarot. The fact there were bloody great projections of the cards behind the band should have been a bit of a clue. But since I have no understanding of, or interest in the Tarot I missed that.
Will Daughter from the group contacted me on Facebook and left a message explaining, from which I've extracted the following:
Hi Matt, we (My Disabled Daughter) have just checked out your blog and thanks for the thoughtful write up. I noticed that you mention in the blog that our first song 'Queen Of Wands' you found sexist. The Queen of Wands is a Tarot card and is about the actual card itself. Funnily enough though there is some inspiration from the actions of a similar character that we took, but that particular Queen is male. We would be upset if people came to any misleading conclusions about that song.
My apologies for giving the impression the duo might be sexist. I didn't necessarily believe they were, but that's not what a reader would have taken away. I'm happy to correct that.]
I was definitely in a minority, most people seemed to love the set. I heard comparisons to The Velvet Underground. I can see where it came from, but I didn't get the same sense of excitement or transgression that the Velvet Underground can still raise. In fact I had to leave early in the set and sit outside otherwise I would have cracked up laughing or stood around with a disapproving look. Neither would have been fair.
Womb were minus Stephanie and Helen, and at first the sound was awkward. Ideas started, then stuttered, took off, then didn't go anywhere much.
The playing was fine. The basses of Whitney and Genette made contrasting rhythmic figures, the one propulsive, the other sparser and more emphatic. Fiona's drums shifted in rhythm, tempo and volume. Jennifer's guitar made both abstract higher register sounds - providing a necessary counterpoint to the otherwise bass-heavy sound - and made more structured figures. Louise's vocals came and went as necessary, and were very fluid for being improvised. If anything she was a little low in the mix. This is unusual as I've seen her playing guitar on occasions when she's been far too prominent.
So the first half of the set was good, but nothing special by Womb standards. I was dancing, but I wasn't wholly convinced by the band.
But then something happened. The band coalesced into a slower, heavier rhythm. All the elements were superficially the same as previously, but worked better together. Rather than pulling in different directions the band found a space they could all occupy. The effect wasn't just cumulative but was multiplied.
I had to close my eyes. Islington Mill, the other people in the space, any sense of time all fell away. All that was left was the music and my body. I have no idea how long that lasted. It was more intense than meditation - a beautiful, transformative experience.
It seems that a lot of other people shared the same transcendental moment, and wanted the suspension, the communal elevation to continue. And then it was over, like being washed up on a beach a warm tide. It's the most powerful experience I've had yet from their music.
I've said before that one of the strengths of Womb - which in my experience is unusual in British music - is their communication and connection with the audience. When they work well the gigs feel less like a band imposing their music on a crowd, and more like a shamanic, positive synergy between band and audience. A ritual with everyone reinforcing everyone else's wellbeing.
It's an incredible, shared and personal thing. It lifts you and leaves you happy and connected to others. I'd forgotten exactly how much I'd missed the band, exactly how important they are to me.
After that Hop Man Junior faced a real challenge. But he rose to it - wearing a fantastic powder-blue, flared jumpsuit, and looking like he'd stepped out of the early 1970's he played a fabulous set that got people dancing.
With squeals, acid-like squelches, beats, penny whistle (or something similar), and vocal sounds he constructed really tremendous tunes. The set was much too short.
I liked it for several reasons: the unique mixture of sounds, genres and eras; the mix of electronics and live sounds; the shifting pace. It was a great end to the night.
I think in fact the DJ had another hour to keep the now warmed-up and enthusiastic audience dancing, but I had to get home. I certainly feel the afterparty was more successful than last year.
Last year's afterparty was the first public outing for Womb, the amount they've grown in the year since is incredible and heartening. Here's to next year.
My piece was second to burn, and went up well, being made from twigs cable-tied together and wrapped in newspaper. Images of the figure, Flag bearer, below.
What I found to be the more memorable pledges on the night were:
Topp and Dubio who came from the Hague to burn a book that was the product of a previous project. They delivered their pledge as a brief, funny performance. They were also very nice, friendly people.
Debbie Sharp who last year burned a hard drive as a comment on the digitisation of photography, this year burned a print of a photograph she took during a poll tax demonstration in 1989. Apart from anything else this drew a neat parallel between the last Tory administration and the current coalition government.
Future Foundation Collective produced the most visually striking piece with a giant head, well over a metre high. Unfortunately it couldn't be burned as a single piece, and had to be broken up. It would have been fascinating if the central card support could have been removed and the head put on the fire whole to see whether it would take off like a Chinese lantern.
Louise Woodcock burned a bear originally intended for Everything's Great! - her exhibition with Jennifer McDonald, Helen Shanahan, and Gary Fisher, opening tomorrow (Saturday 28 January) in Rochdale at 2pm. Wearing a fetching dildo the bear was apparently too explicit for the show. Because it's common knowledge that people who visit art shows in shopping districts have never seen a penis, and would die of shock if confronted by one.
Becca Hunter brought along both a painting and a sketch, and in the end chose to burn the painting. The pledge was a way of affirming her dedication to making art. Like many of the pledges this one was physically small, but seemed to have great personal significance.
Rosanne Robertson, organiser of the event this year and last burned a disposable overall from a performance she carried out in Germany last year.
Fiona Ledgard burnt a collage piece revisiting a work she'd been unable to create at school. This marked a year during which she's been able, as a member of Womb, to begin to tap into her creativity, both in music and beyond.
Richard Shields attended but didn't burn last year. This year he burnt a box representing, among other things, his understandable discomfort with the idea of burning culture.
In the interests of openness, I know Debbie, Louise, Rosanne, and Fiona. This may have influenced my opinion.
A number of themes came up frequently:
There were those making specific political points about cuts in arts funding, or more widely about the coalition government, and/or capitalism.
There were those making more personal statements, most frequently either clearing old work out of the way, or reaffirming their belief in the future (sometimes both).
There were those for whom the bonfire was part of larger, ongoing projects.
Finally there were those either refusing to burn work - ironically enough (if you've read my review from last year) including my friend Jennifer McDonald. I have a degree of sympathy with this view, and with Jen's preference to create art in the face of adversity. At the same time I feel objects are cheap and transient, but ideas and creativity are incredibly precious and much harder to destroy.
My piece represented the contradictions I feel about government versus private funding of the arts. It seems to be commonly believed that private funding is more compromising for an artist's integrity. But public funding has the reputation of being meagre, and requiring projects to meet narrow criteria of measurable value.
I also wanted to reflect my experience in China. In the fact the sculpture was painted, which refers to the way my art opened up to colour and light during the residency, and in the flag made of Chinese banknotes, nodding to the capitalist values driving China's growing economic dominance. There are also issues of freedom of speech, which remains very proscribed in China. The country also underwent the Cultural Revolution which was devastating for artists, among many others.
The event ran more smoothly, but felt less populated and more subdued than last year.
After the bonfire came Cough It Up!, the afterparty gig of sound-art and music.
DJ Mark Scott held the evening together with some interesting and effective choices despite a considerably smaller audience than it deserved.
Debbie Sharp opened proceedings seamlessly with a piece of sound-art that you could have ignored as an especially bloody-minded selection of records. It included a sample of someone coughing.
I'll be honest and admit I wasn't especially paying attention for most of the set. Partly because I think I was talking to Topp & Dubio at the time. Apologies to Debbie. What I remember I enjoyed. It was intrusive and unusual for people perhaps expecting dance music.
Noise Research by being on stage rather than to the side of it were more obviously performers demanding of attention.
Again I'll have to make a confession, around two years ago I would have had a lot more sympathy for, and understanding of the sounds being made. But as I've written previously I've gradually moved to the point where sound-art tends to feel academic and sexless, and to prefer music. For that reason I can't really make an honest review.
But there were some tremendous sounds, especially the more abrasive, unusual ones, and the beats.
I'm afraid to say I didn't enjoy My Disabled Daughter. Now I've heard good things about them from people whose opinions I trust and value so I'm going to take the recommendations at face value. Next time there's a chance to see them I'll take it, and I'm willing to change my mind.
On the night I was open to whatever they produced but just didn't connect with it. I found the first song sexist, although I may have missed the point - it may simply have been the welter of cliche that constituted the lyrics. And that for me was part of the problem, everything about the set felt secondhand.
[Edit 28 January 2012 - I'd like to clarify that it seems I did miss the point of the first song, which like the others was written around cards of the Tarot. The fact there were bloody great projections of the cards behind the band should have been a bit of a clue. But since I have no understanding of, or interest in the Tarot I missed that.
Will Daughter from the group contacted me on Facebook and left a message explaining, from which I've extracted the following:
Hi Matt, we (My Disabled Daughter) have just checked out your blog and thanks for the thoughtful write up. I noticed that you mention in the blog that our first song 'Queen Of Wands' you found sexist. The Queen of Wands is a Tarot card and is about the actual card itself. Funnily enough though there is some inspiration from the actions of a similar character that we took, but that particular Queen is male. We would be upset if people came to any misleading conclusions about that song.
My apologies for giving the impression the duo might be sexist. I didn't necessarily believe they were, but that's not what a reader would have taken away. I'm happy to correct that.]
I was definitely in a minority, most people seemed to love the set. I heard comparisons to The Velvet Underground. I can see where it came from, but I didn't get the same sense of excitement or transgression that the Velvet Underground can still raise. In fact I had to leave early in the set and sit outside otherwise I would have cracked up laughing or stood around with a disapproving look. Neither would have been fair.
Womb were minus Stephanie and Helen, and at first the sound was awkward. Ideas started, then stuttered, took off, then didn't go anywhere much.
The playing was fine. The basses of Whitney and Genette made contrasting rhythmic figures, the one propulsive, the other sparser and more emphatic. Fiona's drums shifted in rhythm, tempo and volume. Jennifer's guitar made both abstract higher register sounds - providing a necessary counterpoint to the otherwise bass-heavy sound - and made more structured figures. Louise's vocals came and went as necessary, and were very fluid for being improvised. If anything she was a little low in the mix. This is unusual as I've seen her playing guitar on occasions when she's been far too prominent.
So the first half of the set was good, but nothing special by Womb standards. I was dancing, but I wasn't wholly convinced by the band.
But then something happened. The band coalesced into a slower, heavier rhythm. All the elements were superficially the same as previously, but worked better together. Rather than pulling in different directions the band found a space they could all occupy. The effect wasn't just cumulative but was multiplied.
I had to close my eyes. Islington Mill, the other people in the space, any sense of time all fell away. All that was left was the music and my body. I have no idea how long that lasted. It was more intense than meditation - a beautiful, transformative experience.
It seems that a lot of other people shared the same transcendental moment, and wanted the suspension, the communal elevation to continue. And then it was over, like being washed up on a beach a warm tide. It's the most powerful experience I've had yet from their music.
I've said before that one of the strengths of Womb - which in my experience is unusual in British music - is their communication and connection with the audience. When they work well the gigs feel less like a band imposing their music on a crowd, and more like a shamanic, positive synergy between band and audience. A ritual with everyone reinforcing everyone else's wellbeing.
It's an incredible, shared and personal thing. It lifts you and leaves you happy and connected to others. I'd forgotten exactly how much I'd missed the band, exactly how important they are to me.
After that Hop Man Junior faced a real challenge. But he rose to it - wearing a fantastic powder-blue, flared jumpsuit, and looking like he'd stepped out of the early 1970's he played a fabulous set that got people dancing.
With squeals, acid-like squelches, beats, penny whistle (or something similar), and vocal sounds he constructed really tremendous tunes. The set was much too short.
I liked it for several reasons: the unique mixture of sounds, genres and eras; the mix of electronics and live sounds; the shifting pace. It was a great end to the night.
I think in fact the DJ had another hour to keep the now warmed-up and enthusiastic audience dancing, but I had to get home. I certainly feel the afterparty was more successful than last year.
Last year's afterparty was the first public outing for Womb, the amount they've grown in the year since is incredible and heartening. Here's to next year.
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