Amore e Piombo

Amore e Piombo: the photography of extremes in the 1970s. Translated - the love and lead - a title that encapsulates the juxtaposition of freedom and violence displayed in the collection of photos from 1970s Italy. A time characterised by upheaval, with revolt against the communist regime combined with a refusal of 'traditional' values in favour of the sexual liberation that has become so widely associated with the time period. The black and white images provide a stark glimpse of a much wider scene. The glamour of movie stars, the explicit destruction of explosions, the more subtle threat of exposed pistols, and the countless photographs of politicians at work reveal a surface which is impenetrable in its secrecy. If anything, what proves most interesting are the questions it raises 40 years on about the appearance of our own world. Captured in images that will remain unchanged by time, what will future generations infer from the many photos of the present day? 

The curation of the exhibition itself compliments the impact of the photographs. Cabinets lined with portraits give a sense of an archive of work, placing historicity at the forefront of discussion. Documentation of Aldo Moro's assassination lines the floor on blocks that hinder the pathway of the viewer, perhaps reflecting the nature of violence to act as an obstruction within life. The words of Moro's family loom in the background - 'As to Aldo Moro's life and death, let history judge.' And so it will.

Amore e Piombo is at Brighton Museum & Art Gallery until 2nd November. The exhibition stands as another of the many great free things to do in Brighton. It works as part of the wider Brighton Photo Biennial - the UK's largest photography festival. With 19 exhibitions and more than 50 events it leaves a lot to explore as the days grow increasingly colder. 

Clothes, Clothes, Clothes. Music, Music, Music. Boys, Boys, Boys.

To claim a book has life altering capabilities is not uncommon, though whether this is a substantial claim to make always comes into question. I have always been impressionable. The art that I come into contact with has a tendency to imprint itself upon my person, at least for a fleeting period of time. This goes back as far as carrying around a piece of ribbon in my pocket so I could pretend to be Violet Baudelaire at the age of 10. Even so, I do not throw around the term life changing lightly, or for that matter frequently. When discussing Viv Albertine's autobiography this is a phrase that reemerged from each person I spoke to, as a significant commonality.

For those of you who don't know, Albertine is perhaps most noted as guitarist of the 70s all-female punk band The Slits. Her recent autobiography, Clothes, Clothes, Clothes. Music, Music, Music. Boys, Boys, Boys. stitches together a painting of a life that stretches much further than this. Yes, it is emblazoned with a frank depiction of the UK punk scene - with personal accounts of Sid Vicious and Mick Jones, both of whom Albertine was acquainted with. Beyond this,  however, lie engaging reflections of a daughter, mother and wife. The book is underpinned with the passions of a musician, yet stands alone as an often painfully honest piece of writing. Viv takes leaps over a simple portrait of the music industry by considering the position of women and the choices they are faced with in a way that is continually relatable.

The whole of Clothes reads at great ease. Albertine's distinct voice, which is both humorous and grounded, resounds throughout. All in all the book is likeable. It is a pleasure at each turning and remains without pretence. For me, it was not so much life changing as life affirming. The doubts and falters that line a life as full as hers are still entirely recognisable. To have the same level of consciousness echoed in the words of a woman who has stood as such an inspiration, above all was reassuring. That those same uncertainties break through as clear as day, signposting each point alongside a voice that remains unapologetically defiant, is refreshing. What Albertine offers is a full and uninhibited portrayal of the self, providing a guiding light of reference for women both young and old. Almost as an accidental role model, it is through her honesty that Albertine reveals truths about being a woman that have perhaps been refined to the corners of our psyché. Her words resonate as the shared difficulties that permeate everyday life. It may not make claims for every woman's experiences, yet it does not attempt to hide its own and thus acts as an example of the kind of openness that can only be helpful for such a mystified gender. Here is not just a reflection of one woman's story, but a necessary invitation into at least one reality of womanhood. 

Return of the Rudeboy

Rudie don't fear - he has the confidence to know a good look might be down to what he's wearing or a glint in his eye. At the end of the day a true Rudeboy needs no blessing by society 'cause he knows - "Rudie can't fail"

--Don Letts

Somerset house is one of my favourite places to visit when I stay in London. The layout of the winding corridors and stairs are maze like, with exhibitions as little treasures to discover at the end of each path. A couple of years ago I assisted on a catwalk held here for London Fashion Week. The chaos of being backstage at such a seemingly sculpted vent has an alternate feel to floating around the echoing halls on a cloudy summers day. The thing that draws me to the house is the industrious feel of the steel sculptures used as tables in the cafe, combined with the classic design of the high ceilings and marble floors. It seems to pinpoint exactly what I love about London - the juxtaposition of old and new. Standing on Waterloo bridge on the way, one side faced with a skyline marked with the landmarks of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament while the other boasts grand skyscrapers more akin to Dubai than city hall. The commonality of these features is that they all tower over you, sculpted to the minutest of details, dwarfing you to insignificant dot. Here I find myself lost to the grandeur of the city, happily allowing myself to fade into the background of noise.

A similar thing happens when I go to see The Return of the Rudeboy exhibition. Aptly set within the walls of Somerset House, the space is filled with an array of photography, films and installations (including a functioning barbershop). The style it encapsulates is that of the Rudeboy - an intertwining of skinhead and mod influences, transcends back as far as the 1950s, as well as being synonymous with the 2 tone movement of the 1970s; it has more recently seen a revival. Eloquently curated, the show features large portraits of people in their own Rudeboy attire which seemed to dwarf me in the same way as the skyscrapers outside. The show reveals a craftsmanship akin to architecture, as every detail down to the shoes is meticulously selected. Here is an art form all of its own and I again allow myself to fade into the background, this time of the accompanying ska soundtrack.

I, like many others of my generation, have a tendency to romanticise the subcultures of the past. In a period when everything is marketed, there is no longer a unifying ground within youth culture that is not commercialised. So what makes the Rudeboy so different? Well as Carnival approaches, rooted in the historicity of the past as a renewal of a feeling of freedom that appears all but lost in the 21st century, I am reminded of the rich past of this particular movement. Grounded by their Jamaican forefathers, the soul of the Rudeboy has not been lost to the mass of high street brands in the same way that punk largely has. There is still the DIY element and the defining factor that Rudeboy is not about what you wear, it is about who you are. It is not simply a trend you pick up and try on but rather a lifestyle rich with culture. At a point where core values and strong character seems to be lost to superficial image, the Return of the Rudeboy is exactly what is needed. As Don Letts puts its - 'In a conservative culture that feels like punk never happened, the time is right for the Return of the Rudeboy.'

                

 

  

Return of the Rudeboy is on at Somerset House until 25th August 2014.

Stitching Sentiments
Having an access to an abundance of methods of creation makes it easy to feel overwhelmed as to which outlet to use. It's as if whichever way you turn your voice is bound to get lost among the noise of the millions of other people striving to get themselves noticed. Well I'm not saying I've found the answer of how to act as a pervading force among the masses, but as far as creativity goes I've found myself encapsulated by embroidery (now there's a sentence I never thought I'd write).

As a simple way to get a much more complex point across it seems that stitching works perfectly. Nicole Monjeau's body hair embroideries manage to express the naturalness of refusing to shave in a way that could not so easily be communicated through speech (that isn't for want of trying). 

Luisa Zilio displays a detail within her embroidered portraits that is reminiscent of Grayson Perry. Depicting iconic figures in an array of colours bestows each one with a newfound flamboyance that paints even the most familiar in a completely new light. 

Jenny Hart's portraiture in comparison displays how much scope can be found in embroidery as an artistic form. My favourite piece is her Dirty Face Embroidery, with the phrase 'No you can't touch my hair and you best not even try' framing a curly haired woman. A sentiment that is certainly close to home, the additions of the swallows and the use of circles to encapsulate the afro hair places a delicacy against a fierce message. 

It seems it could be time to pick up a needle in order to get my point across.

The Photographers' Gallery collection of Greats

 

Until the 30th March at The Photographers' Gallery in Soho, three shows synchronise, spanning the work of Andy Warhol, William Burroughs and David Lynch. Encompassing three floors of the intimate gallery, the shows may not be extreme in size, but they serve to brilliantly compliment each other through a collection that acts as a journey through the photographic works of three exceptional artists.

Andy Warhol: Photographs 1976-1987, resembles a collection comprising of the everyday, with Warhol's interest in repeated imagery coming into play through his 'stitched' photographs. Far from being immersive, the collection allows you to take on the position of the outsider. It's as if you are bearing witness to the day-to-day of the artist's life within the 1980s -- from depictions of city streets, to intimate portraits of artists such as Basquiat occupied in the mundane task of eating. What these then display is a private look into an unattainable world, placed in the romantic light of black and white film. A zoning in on the details of a scene, through the close up nature of much of the images, gives the impression that only a glimpse of a much wider picture is being divulged. Such is that the collection becomes fraught with a curiosity that then becomes inherent to the images.

There is a similar intimacy to Taking Shots: The Photography of William S. Burroughs but this time through an inclusive look into Burroughs' artistic and creative process. Though his photography is often overlooked, with this being the first exhibition worldwide to focus on Burroughs' vast photographic collection, it better provides an insight into the depth of Burroughs' artistic character. There is a sense of following Burroughs on a journey, as if you are tracing his line of vision through the photographs. Telling of this style, Burroughs wrote of his photographic process, 'Walk down a city block with a camera and take what you notice, moving the camera around as closely as possible to follow the direction of your eyes. The point is to make the camera your eyes and take what your eyes are scanning out of the larger picture.' A series of collages use a 'cut-up' technique that is reminiscent of Stezaker, carved so intently that some take on the form of a kaleidoscope, while distorted self-portraits are fascinating more in what they hide than what they reveal. Through his manipulation of these images, Burroughs work becomes far from simply observatory. The conclusion of the show, St Louis Return 1964, a series documenting the artist's return to his hometown, resonates through a tone of degradation -- creating a bittersweetness to the collection which lingers hauntingly.

The culmination of the triad, David Lynch: The Factory Photographs, for me was the most noteworthy. Accompanied by a sound installation created by Lynch to enhance the show, you are persuaded to move round the gallery at a pace that suggests you are actually walking through an old industrial warehouse. The poignant images hold a sense of being trapped in one of Lynch's twisted dreams. We observe as the foundations are laid for his next distorted reality. To be transported into the inner workings of such an exceptional talent is certainly a fate worth bearing, even if it means the inciting of chills down your spine as you observe the perverse otherworldliness of his genius.

Wonderful Women
The arrival of International Women's Day yesterday acted as proof of all of the wonderful things that women continue to do with their time. Femme Fierce took to the streets of London in an attempt to make it into the record books, by aiming to paint the biggest graffiti mural created by multiple artists. Adding a dose of colour to the walls of Leake Street Tunnel in Waterloo, with the common theme of 'It's a woman's world', the group provided a clear indication of how a seemingly mundane place can be transformed by a collective creation. 

(all images © Ben Walters: Source)

The efforts of these women to come together to alter a public space in a way that enhances its beauty got me thinking about why the day was important to me. The fact that through it we get a recognition of what we can achieve when we work together, when we stand by each other, is what really sticks in my mind. It's that desire to strive to create a world in which we exist in a considerate and conscious way, celebrating each other's achievements and encouraging each and every person in their endeavours. That realisation that we are much stronger when we stand side by side, and far be it from this being a woman's world or a man's world, allowing this to be a world where we coexist in a way that breeds compassion and life in order to create a space in which each individual is able to blossom under the assurance of unconditional love and support.

Transformation to a Tattooed World
If you've ever been curious as to what some of the world's most iconic figures would look like were they adorned with traditional tattoos, Seattle based artist Cheyenne Randall is about to kill the cat. Through manipulating famous images with sketching and digital enhancement, Randall has created a body of work that is synonymous with reality in its seamless alteration. 

Randall says of his work:

'all of these images were created as a form of curiosity. What some of the worlds most recognizable and admired icons would look like perhaps living in a parallel universe. This has never been about "What would celebrities look like with tattoos" although it is clearly centered around tattoos because I personally love Tradition tattooing.'

The artwork that has stemmed from Randall's self-proclaimed curiosity is aesthetically pleasing, and perhaps not just from the position of somebody who personally admires the art of tattooing. Although perhaps coming from a position of bias, what has been created for me echoes my own personal attraction towards the world of ink. Taking people of such familiarity and transforming them in a  way that, while not unrecognisable, project an entirely altered exterior which appears to dispel an individual scope. 

When observing tattoos, I often feel that they manage to express a hint into the inner workings of a being that would otherwise be invisible to the naked eye. Simultaneously, when viewing a body of work that revolves around a common theme it becomes possible to see how body art has the ability to be unifying at the same time as individualising. Even if not solely focused on the pretence of wondering what celebrities would look like with tattoos, it is possible that through Randall's work an openness can be created for a world that is often misconstrued as reckless. Here, we are provided with the ability to envision more accepting attitudes from which a true transformation is beginning to stem.

With A Little Help From My Friends

A couple of weeks ago I received a message from a friend back home asking if I would help her with her art project. Flo is currently undertaking her foundation year in London and the basis for her current project is audience participation. A print was sent to us that had been produced by her, with the simple instruction that we change it in whatever way appeared natural to us. In order to reflect a wider base, Flo selected a range of people with different studies, interests and occupations and did not state the origin of the print so as not to influence our input in any way.

After receiving the print I was drawn to the precariousness of the line within the image. The appearance of being entangled echoed the feeling of loss that holds a sense of familiarity for me as a young student. I thus chose to try and recreate this uncertainty through a series of questions written around the image. I wanted this to act as a simple indication of the many doubts that resonate along the path that you take.

Flo's art show takes place in April and I for one can't wait to see the outcome. There is an unpredictability as to where the project will end up much like that which is found within life - it is just this that I hope to have reflected in my chosen alteration. There is a clear sense of anticipation as we wait to discover how others will have approached the same task, and the undoubtable diversity that will encompass the pieces.

Exploring My Mixed Heritage

Myself in 2011 (left) and my mum in 1989 (right)

A couple of weeks ago I was asked by Amber Ablett, an artist, curator and designer working in Bergen and London, whether I would like to be involved in an art project centred around people with a mixed heritage. Immediately I was intrigued by the idea. My heritage has always been something that I have had an acute awareness of but as I have little access to my dad's side it is not something that I have ever fully explored.

The project is centred around four Skype conversations, during which I have been asked to think of a childhood story and then relate this to the artist. From this initial conversation, which I have just carried out, key words will be extracted and sent back to me. I will then observe this list of words in order to see whether they spark off any other memories. Through a continuation of this process Amber should then be left with an accumulation of memories. The work will then be displayed on a four screen video installation where each screen will show 'break downs' of the original story. The narrative will switch between the four videos, becoming more and more confusing as the language breaks down further.

Instantly the project has sparked interest in me. As an English student the study of language is certainly familiar to me and the idea of exploring how certain words may bare traces of our past is intriguing. I am reminded of psychoanalysis, and in particular Freud's work, which claimed that much could be found in the way we relate our experiences - from the phrasing we use to the accent and tone of our voice. This is exactly what Amber intends to display through her project.

Although we are not specifically asked to relay stories that are focused solely on having a mixed heritage, the idea is to consider how having a multi-racial background has the potential to be particularly complex. Growing up this has been an inherent question, - the extent to which my heritage illuminates the person I am, particularly the side that I have little physical relation to. Perhaps what this project will allow is for me to discover how much my heritage factors into my present self. Once the project is complete I will complete a post reflecting on this question and the overall outcomes of the project, I am extremely excited to see the approach Amber takes and her finished piece. 

My dad (centre) playing in a South African band in the early 70s.