Art Historian Collective Porter & Jenkinson are looking for artists and writers for their first exhibition, Curious Pursuits, at the Portico LIbrary and Gallery Manchester from February 2nd - 29th 2012. Artists are invited to respond to the idea and aesthetics of Victorian Dark Societies, the Curious and the Peculiar. Submissions are welcome from the following that wish to exhibit work fitting this theme: illustrators, printmakers, painters, zine makers, writers, book binders, photographers, sculptors and I imagine anyone working in any mediums not listed also! More information here. I've had a pop myself with some micro fiction but hurry as there are only 24 hours left before the end-of-year deadline!

Plastic Flowers In A Traditional Vase (2007 / detail) Rashid Rana. Image courtesy the artist, Gallery Chemould and Chatterjee & Lal, Mumbai

Rashid’s photo sculptures are responding to Minimalist ideals and intentions – reducing, simmering down to a base flavor like a soup stock, an essence, but also mocking this technique by taking a series of flat 2D photographs of the objects themselves and re-creating them as three-dimensional forms. To use food as a metaphor, this is like taking the contents of a tube of tomato puree, the distilled, ultra-flavoured essence of a specific taste, and moulding it back into the shape of a tomato… even re-attaching it to the vine. It’s absurd, but there is skill and a deliberate intention behind the act.

With the expert tutelage of the UK’s only Lego-certified freelance model builder, Ducan Titmarsh of Bright Bricks, we emulated this same process ourselves in our workshop by taking two objects, a Coke can and a stack of Wii cartridge games, and subjecting them to the same treatment. They will no longer look exactly like the originals, but still be recognizable as such. Think Picasso’s jumbled face-portraits, unblinking cyclopic eyes balanced upon triangular noses, or musical compositions that sound like a piano being dropped from a building. And then run over with a steamroller.

This is the bit where, in a traditional magazine layout, there would be a spiky bright yellow explosion accompanied by the subheading Did You Know…? Minimalism describes the practice and movement across multiple disciplines, but especially visual art and music, where the maker sets out to expose the essence or identity of a subject by stripping it back until only the bare bones remain. Abstraction indicates a departure from reality in the depiction of imagery; a courageous and still controversial approach when much of Western art right up until the mid 19th Century had been preoccupied by the illusion of reality and the orthodox logic of perspective.

Books 2 (2010-11 / detail) Rashid Rana. Image courtesy the artist and Lisson Gallery, London

A coke can is one of the most recognizable items on the planet. It crosses cultures and continents and despite limited editions or redesigns or a change to the font and calligraphic text, it remains red and white and cylindrical. Cast your mind back to school art classes – were you ever asked to draw a crushed coke can? Without realising it, this might well have been your first exposure to the concept of abstraction – of moving away from a literal, clear representation of an object that still retains those core elements despite being jumbled and obscured. The curl of the letter C, the pillar box tint, a peeled ring pull. You don’t need to see all of it to recognise it for what it is.

Similarly, cast your thoughts back to early computer games, or what we know now to be early if you never actually played them. 8-bit, pixelated characters, Spectrum, Atari, Commodore. A limited number of pixels and no such thing as a graphics engine meant that characters and backgrounds were formed of little coloured blocks. Fast forward to the present and the likes of Mario and Sonic still survive in successful franchises, so the option of creating a stack of Wii games is a nod to their earlier incarnations. A thumbprint of red and white squares to represent a mushroom. Rectangles and triangles represent landscapes, bouncing brick-shaped bombs. We used our imagination in that situation, we can do the same now.

We are making, we are unmaking. We are simplifying, we are complicating. Hence the title of the overall exhibition – Everything Is Happening At Once. Thank you to all our participants, all of who commented upon how much fun it was to combine theoretical concepts with a playful make-it-yourself opportunity. Demands were made for further, weekly Lego workshops to tackle art history (a lone voice requested Duplo – we’ll say no more).  For those who wish to continue this journey into modern art via the joyful medium of children’s toys, may I recommend John Cake and Darren Neave, an artist duo who recreate seminal YBA installations using – you guessed it – Lego!

Thanks to Explore More blog for the lovely personal write-up of their experience as a participant.

The result is that within minutes of starting such a tour, most of those present have retreated to a safe space in their heads, the better to shut out the white noise that fills the gallery. A brave few might discreetly linger in mock-interest at a specific work, subsequently edging towards the exit, whilst the remainder dutifully file around making a mental note not to make the mistake of signing up to such a bore-fest again.

I’d had enough. While there is certainly still a place to hear direct from the artist or persons behind a show, especially for those able and willing to push past the veil of intimidation, it’s hardly suitable for encouraging a more personal response from those less familiar with the whizz-bang-snooze of verbal pyrotechnics. I wanted a tour guide for those who still needed stabilizers attaching to their cultural bike ride until they’d got the hang of sudden gusts of hot air.

Someone like a Mum, or a batty Aunt, who knew even less about the work on display than they did, but wasn’t afraid to speak their mind or submit an opinion.

Mrs Barbara Nice / image by Emma Case (copyright)

One specific person came to mind. I didn’t want to consider anyone else. I got in touch with Mrs Barbara Nice, the comic creation of Janice Connolly, star of Phoenix Nights, Coronation Street, Max and Paddy’s Road to Nowhere and tour support for Peter Kay. Barbara is a fictional Stockport housewife and mother of five, immune to false graces and after rearing her own brood, unshockable. I asked is she would lead a walkaround our current exhibition by artist Rashid Rana. She replied. She said she’d do it... but would it work? Or would we simply end up firing cheap shots at the usual modern art targets?

The tour was a sell-out (although free), raised to 45 people from the standard 30 due to demand, with repeat requests for a waiting list. On the afternoon itself Barbara set to work sweeping through the arrival area in full leopard-print and giant handbag, with a “Hiya, howya doin’?”, before grading the participants by coat colour. Purple was heavily evidenced. The more chatty individuals were quickly identified and gently prodded (Iris, the vegan who couldn’t stop touching the artwork, and Mickey, who wasn’t afraid to proffer an opinion), while others were gently encouraged to offer their own thoughts up and comments.

Despite a planned running-time of just 40 minutes, the tour went on for a record breaking 1 hour 40 minutes. As part of the experience we forbade anyone from reading the wall text or guides and simply shoot from the hip. We talked of colour and shade, of a geographic sense of place, the representation of flesh and violence, power dynamics, role of women, stereotypes, false knowledge and honest response, pictography, pixellation and porn. All while Barbara fussed, cajoled and supported even the quietest members of the group to have confidence in their own thoughts.

The tour culminated in Gallery 3: An Idea of Abstract, and the mammoth pay-off that is the giant, sculptural mirage of Desperately Seeking Paradise II. But instead of trying to shape a cursory summary to our humble journey, talk leaned toward cleaning solutions for this mammoth dust magnet. Feather dusters were duly distributed, and everyone pitched in with a light sweep and flick to ensure the work stayed looking tip-top. Afterwards everyone was encouraged to write postcards to the artist himself, with all those present unanimous in urging future tours that avoid belittling participants and encourage discussion.

I hope to bring Barbara back and team up again, I enjoyed playing the straight man in my prop ‘clever glasses’ to her kitchen sink wisdom. As for Barbara’s own postcard to Rashid, it read as follows:

“Dear Rashid, I’d be happy to do this tour for you in Pakistan. P.S. My passport is up to date!”

Thanks to Cornerhouse Digital Reporter Ben Williams who wrote up his experience of the event here. Thanks also to photographer Emma Case for the use of her wonderful shot of Barbara with the purple balloons above!

You the public are invited to sit inside the booth as if for a photograph and make a donation to an artist through an anonymous slot in return for a self-portrait. Wait five minutes (give or take) and the image will appear in the side wall, accompanied by the warm blast of a travel hairdryer. If you hanker for that still-wet sensation, they may even lick it for you. It could be a pencil drawing, doodle, cartoon, collage or even word-poem. Take it, frame it, consider it. Now you are both patron and muse!

Launching for Art Night on Thursday 24th November until Sunday 4th December 2011. News of additional activity including film screening and Cornerhouse Projects exhibition to follow. Please see booth for timings.

ARTISTS WANTED!

North-West and Manchester based artists are required to join our Sketch-O-Matic rota in one-hour slots. Lunchtime slots (1 - 2pm) and evening slots (6pm - 10pm). We're looking for pencil drawings, pastels, watercolours, illustrators, cartoonists, cubists, doodlers, poets (for word portraits), collage, ink-blot, dried pasta decoupage and just about any zany or straight-laced style you can imagine... as long as it can be dashed off in approximately 5 minutes. There is, I'm afraid, one exception. No caricaturists. We don't want anyone to walk away feeling crappy about themselves because you've managed to exaggerate a slight mole into a volcanic eruption on the scale of Eyjafjallajökull. Please contact bren@cornerhouse.org or via this website if you'd like to take part!

“Because we'd talked through all our ideas quite thoroughly, getting to this point was fairly simple. I feel that visiting The Icon Collection at Blackburn Museum and Art Gallery together helped us aesthetically to stay on the same track. I hadn't appreciated how helpful it would be to have Bren working with me at the studio as we went through the general layout, the choosing fabrics and colours, even deciding what type of stitches to use when generating each design.

“Having collaborated with other artists in different ways, I’m used to discussing work together before heading off to the studio off to work on certain elements of a project by myself. However working with Bren at the studio meant we were able to sketch, visualise and realise all the different aspects of the piece together, which made problem solving and decision making much quicker and simpler.'

“As it lays at the moment, a piece of textile art on a calico background, I have reservations about covering the block of wood with it as the untouched space around the illustrations stop the piece from looking too busy or overworked.'

Re-Covering opens at Untitled Gallery, Manchester in June. Follow the process and thinking behind our joint submission in the instalments listed below.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Mandy had sourced some cinched black trimming that buckled and twisted in the palm like a fortune telling fish, spraying a wicked, radial halo around the head of the sinful sorceress and springing outwards for a 3D effect. This we decided to supplement with some teardrop pearls to contradict any sense of undeserving austerity (this Mother Superior is a voluptuary after all, certainly no virgin), her skin a chocolate mocha, crossed fingers dipped in scarlet varnish and crowned with oversized jewels.

We were keen on suggesting that the backing cloth used in the creation of the icon had been illicitly filched from the nursing home in the novel, wishing to place a stamp of ownership along the lines of ‘All bedding belongs to the Well of Light Brotherhood’, but it became clear that due to the small scale, none of the stitched typefaces would be legible. Instead, using a miniature stamp pad, we were able to achieve the same institutional effect on a test scrap but will need to ensure the ink has opportunity to dry.

The reverse will also feature a cloud of twisting, enchanted vapour upon which will be laid Dona Rosalinda’s personal crest: a split and dripping pomegranate. Once under the needle, the suede purple fabric rucked and twisted, distorting the hide to create a perfectly-pocked honeycombed surface – partly intentional, but largely by happy accident. Both frosted and clear glazed beads to mimic seeds in red and raspberry hues will be sewn into the flesh, others tumbling out to form a twinkling spillage.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Here you can see the area in question, which will form the side of the Un-Orthodox icon of our unholy nun, functioning like a window upon a casket of bone or scrap of withered flesh. The intention is that anyone handling the piece will want to rub the exposed and uneven wood; perhaps for luck, desire or to channel forbidden powers. The fabrics alongside are coloured suede - the purple will form part of Dona Rosalida's crest upon the rear, that of a split pomegranate decorated with hand-beaded seeds, while the blue will become a swirling backdrop of Musc de Madelaine, a vapourous aphrodisiac and source of her power. Mandy and I also intend to add a care instructions label, 'All bedding is property of The Well of Light Brotherhood', as if the elderly residents of the nursing home in the novel had cannibalised a bed sheet in making the piece.

Here you can see Mandy's Ferrari of a computerized sewing machine with multiple needles, working on creating the spine title stitched direct to leather, later trimmed to form part of the wider patchwork entirety. As for the cover portrait itself, although nesting dolls and religious art remain an influence, we've decided to lean more heavily toward souvenir Spanish flamenco dolls as they possess that same, dark-browed passion and exaggerated features (the swan neck and missing ribs) we want to incorporate. Still toying with the facial features, one idea right now is to incorporate fake eyelashes, albeit snipped to fit, particularly for the one winking, leering eye. We wouldn't want anyone to think this was a genuine Saint, oh no, that would never do.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Leonora Carrington in her studio

A new project and collaboration with friend and artist Mandy Tolley took us to Blackburn Museum & Art Gallery yesterday to check out their small but perfectly formed collection of Orthodox Christian icons. As part of a forthcoming show which asks contributors to re-imagine the cover and reverse art of a favourite or influential book, we’ve chosen The Hearing Trumpet by surrealist artist and a favourite of mine, Leonora Carrington.

Leonora Carrington: Self Portrait, 1937

A character within this novella will be the focus of our efforts as we in turn look to creating a cover portrait of the deliciously titled Dona Rosalinda Alvarex Cruz della Cueva; at face value a pious and dedicated Abbess of the Covent of Santa Barbara of Tartarus, actually a scheming sorceress whose power can be traced to vials of ‘Musc de Madelaine’, a magical ointment that may or may not be responsible for the miracles performed by Jesus of Nazareth.

Early thoughts involve combining not only religious art but also, as our approach will be using computerized embroidery and hand-beading, the folk style of Russian ‘Matryoshka’ or nesting dolls; the painted dark-hued allure of Spanish flamenco souvenir ladies, fetish neck braces, cubist landscapes and the seemingly demure practice of needlepoint, scrapbooking and patchwork methods.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

PALACES will be a sculpture some 2 metres high and 2 metres wide, consisting of stalagmite-like towers formed of clear cystal resin. Grouped to form a fairytale palace (more in the Jim Henson mould than Disney) and embedded with UV particles, it will be clad in an ivy-trace of barnacle clusters formed of up to 12,000 children’s milk teeth, purposely donated on the back of an international campaign.

Milk teeth are a means of extracting adult stem cells (not necessarily stem cells from an adult, but cells whose future role is limited to specific outcome/s due to their progressed stage of development), unlike embryonic stem cells, which can become any cell type. I’ll be posting more about this project, but the thinking behind it includes debate upon regeneration, how wealth will affect future health care, informed consent and ownership of our own genetic make-up.

But at heart, it’s quite simply a wondrous and beautiful sculpture that will enable mass public participation, with a UK tour already in the planning stages. Endorsed and supported by The Science Museum, Imperial College London, Welcome Trust and Medicine for Children Research Network. If you’ve got any milk teeth saved from your own childhood, or know of any young’uns with wobbly pegs, I’ll be announcing information on where to send these totemic human gem stones soon.

Oh, and before you ask, the tooth fairy remains fully consulted at every stage and is looking forward to moving into her Grand Design-styled new pad. Tokens for tooth exchange can be downloaded and slipped under the pillow so that she's aware of who is contributing to her fantastical abode (so she can advance the expected reward), while special treats await those who follow the project through development, childerlings and grown-olds alike. Let's get the word out - the Palace needs YOU!