Throughout the 1980s and early ’90s, Kim Gordon—widely known as a founding member of the influential band Sonic Youth—produced a series of writings on art and music. Ranging from neo-Conceptual artworks to broader forms of cultural criticism, these rare texts are brought together in this volume for the first time, placing Gordon’s writing within the context of the artist-critics of her generation, including Mike Kelley, John Miller, and Dan Graham. In addressing key stakes within contemporary art, architecture, music, and the performance of male and female gender roles, Gordon provides a prescient analysis of such figures as Kelley, Glenn Branca, Rhys Chatham, Tony Oursler, and Raymond Pettibon, in addition to reflecting on her own position as a woman on stage. The result—Is It My Body?—is a collection that feels as timely now as when it was written. This volume additionally features a conversation between Gordon and Jutta Koether, in which they discuss their collaborations in art, music, and performance.
To close off its Coded After Lovelace group exhibition, curated by Faith Holland and Nora O’ Murchú, New York’s Whitebox Art Center will be hosting the Click Click Click screening of GIFs and video on September 2, from 7 to 10 pm.
Presenting work by a slew of contemporary artists, including Lorna Mills, Jennifer Chan, and Claudia Maté, as well as Sabrina Ratté, Raquel Meyers and Hannah Black, the event aims to present “new gestures of digital image making”.
As a survey of practices within the medium spanning “GIFs, augmented performances, green screen keying, collage, appropriation, processing, 3D renders and more”, the event follows the Coded After Lovelace exhibition examining the role of art and new technologies in responding to the contemporary condition.
I’m pleased to share my contribution to the 2014 Wild Bush Residency, The Only Song About Here Is About Leaving; Or, The Sea Is Lawless.
"I really do think of them as post-minimalist sculptures, inspired in large part by some very early spacecraft that NASA built." —Trevor Paglen
This week’s Season 7 preview features artist Trevor Paglen, shown at work on Prototype for a Nonfunctional Satellite (Design 4; Build 4) (2013) in a San Antonio, Texas hanger.
WATCH: Preview of Trevor Paglen in Secrets
Season 7 of ART21 Art in the Twenty-First Century premieres Friday, October 24, 2014 at 10:00 p.m. ET on PBS (check local listings). Secrets airs Friday, October 31, 2014.
IMAGES: Production stills from the ART21 Art in the Twenty-First Century Season 7 episode, Secrets, 2014. © ART21, Inc. 2014.
Special Event: David Horvitz’s ”Cigarette Beetle (Lasioderma serricorne)”
Wednesday, August 27, 6:30pm
Horvitz has been working around the clock to compile an editioned group show in the form of archival boxes filled with works from two dozen international artists. These “valises” will be mailed as unsolicited donations to 31 museum libraries around the world .
You are invited to view the works and join Horvitz as he and some of the participating artists personally escort the valises from our shipping container to the James Farley Post Office on Eighth Avenue in Manhattan. Light refreshments will be served.
Please arrive promptly at 6:30 pm on Wednesday to participate in the Post Office mail drop:
1397 Myrtle Avenue, Unit 4 Brooklyn NY, 11237
"Cigarette Beetle (Lasioderma serricorne)" is the first in a series of Special Events, in which individual artists co-opt Where’s shipping container as their own personal field station.
A collection of Anglo-European avant-garde and modernist magazines dating to the late 19th and early 20th centuries has been compiled by Monoskop. The effort follows in the footsteps of such projects as UbuWeb’s ‘Historical‘ section and the University of Iowa’s International Dada Archive, both initiatives highlighted in the introductory text prepared by Monoskop, an online wiki and archive…
By organizing these volumes in wiki format on Monoskop, and in some cases hosting the entire original image files, the website hopes to present “a reference guide” of use to “artists, writers and scholars alike.” And as our coverage of Monoskop’s digitization of Alan Riddell’s 1975 monograph on typewriter art showed, there is an eager audience for this kind of digital archival work, which may be secondary in its scope (these works have already been preserved in major institutions) but presents material that would otherwise remain unseen by all but the most dedicated of specialists.
me daily even
in this heat.
I pay a
bill I feel
better. I live
along. I get
ten bucks in
the mail. Heigh
dee ho. If
I could have
since I’m happening
since I’m really
since I do
& listen. I believe
all the women
could be strong
& stand up &
& bond. We
we could save everyone
we could be
& I am.
I’ve got a
lot of good
ideas but not
will get me
"What is interesting about more contemporary developments in the forces of production is that they are less about capturing value from physical labor and more about capturing data from any activity whatsoever. It is no longer the case that the only ‘efficient’ signal is the price signal. What if there was a mode of production based not on capturing surplus value but on capturing surplus information?"
The BookThug Interview with Jacob Wren, author of “Polyamorous Love Song.”
Twine text-based games emulate our limited agency within our daily experiences with work, lovers, friends, art, life, and as such have proven a valuable cultural form for people who, in their daily lives, must work within a limited set of choices. The text, clicks, and roundabout narratives within a Twine game illustrate the anticipation and uncertainty we feel navigating the internet, or life. You have the choice of what text to click, but no control over what comes from that click. The hypertext of Twine enriches an otherwise ordinary narrative with the innate confusion, messiness, “reality” of the player. They are what draw us in to the narrative, but also a reminder of the narrative’s bounds. Each click through a Twine game reiterates what it really means to win: accepting the limited choices at hand and moving forward, trepidations aside.
The mission to create a zine-like culture around gaming articulated by Anthropy, allowing games to be personal and lo-fi, continues to build today, two years after Anthropy’s initial proclamation. From February to April of this year, Richard Goodness curated “Fear of Twine,” an online exhibition of sixteen Twine games. The goal was not to demonstrate the platform’s ease of use, or to promote use within the LGBTQ community, but to show how diverse it could be as a gaming tool. Though Twines are primarily text-based, and often narrative, as you pick and choose your way through one, you feel compelled toward the reward of a successful narrative, the ending you want, hence they are gamified stories. Goodness senses a continuing rise in the indie gaming scene, helped by Twine. “Twine,” he says, “seems to have arrived at a point where people wanted more things from videogames, it is accessible enough for lots of people to make games, but complicated enough that people can make interesting work.” Just as the photocopied zines made your voice feel heard or the recorded-in-a-garage sound made Beat Happening sound like all your unrequited crushes, the fast and dirty creation and aesthetic of Twine games makes them a perfect outlet for our reverberating, repressed emotions, and for modeling possible freedoms and real world oppression.
For myself, the goal of the project was and is to open dialogue. The role of The Wild Bush Residency isn’t just to look at nature and wilderness, but ultimately to look deeply into the idea of emptiness in the wild. Canada is not, and has never been empty. It is and has always been big, and perhaps even sparsely populated. But never empty. Presented in this volume is the work (both visual and textual) of people concerned with the perceived emptiness of a nation seemingly obsessed by one’s nationality, as evidenced by current discussions in government related to immigration and status.
Why do I want to revisit these topics? I know it isn’t “cool” to talk about nationalism. It’s not cool to be in nature (unless you mean Fogo, or Banff, other equally urbanized wilds). The city centres are the beating hearts of the art scene - our connection to the bigger world of international art. I know it’s not popular to paint landscapes, or to make anything resembling art of that kind. I know that I’m banging on the door of a topic so passé, so seemingly over, that no one should want to join me in my consideration of it in today’s terms. And yet, presented here is the work of contemporary artists eager to trudge through the muck of the legacy of Canadian art.
-Amber Berson, Wild Bush Residency Curatorial statement
The Wild Bush Residency is a three-day retreat for artists in a non-remote cabin in the moderately urbanized Canadian wilderness. Participants are asked to consider where their practice fits into this larger dialogue of wilderness, nature and a return to the ‘wild’. At once the action and reaction to historic and contemporary artist colonies, communal living exercises and good old fashioned art camps, The Wild Bush Residency prompts residents to think about the urbanization of the rural, the reality of the “Wilderness” and to question the sustainability and need of the back-to-the-land movement as it relates to their personal practises. The goal was to engage as many possible perspectives as possible.
Like Warhol, Johnson had an appetite for glamour and the politics of who-knows-who. But he was impatient with hierarchy. Warhol was a worshiper, Johnson a collector, a cataloger. In his work the same plane of importance is occupied by Marcel Duchamp, Anita O’Day and Toby Spiselman, a Long Island friend. It’s hard to imagine Warhol heading up an Anna May Wong fan club, but Johnson did. There’s a sense that for him all names are equivalent in value, are all collage elements, all “nothings,” or rather somethings, equally useful and even soothing in their sameness.
I ONCE HAD the pleasure of hearing a historically informed performance of a Bach sonata played on an organ made by master builder John Brombaugh. Brombaugh organs are tuned in what is called unequal temperament. It is a bizarrely little-known fact, but today’s tuning standard, equal temperament, is a relatively modern system. To hear Glenn Gould plunk away at Bach on a piano is a historical goof. Today, if confronted with Gould performing his music on a contemporary instrument, Bach would most likely wonder, “Why is this Canadian guy playing my compositions out of tune?” Like computer software, music is a set of instructions performed in real time on various instruments, and like all technologies, parts of these systems can become obsolete—even something as common as what we hear as C major. Moreover, technology—like taste—does not necessarily proceed in a straight line. If we traveled back to the 1700s and heard Bach play, we might just as easily ask, “Why is he playing his own stuff out of tune?” Hierarchies of authenticity might be best considered relative.
A historically informed setting for the images discovered by this preservation effort would dictate that the following real-time systems be strung together: Warhol’s images would be need to be visualized in real time and in real space by a period- specific, analog, cathode-ray-tube Amiga monitor hooked up to an Amiga 1000 running the specific version of GraphiCraft found on Warhol’s disk, booted using Amiga Kickstart 26.7, all running on US 110V, 60Hz power. This is the only performance of these sketches that would be 100 percent accurate to 1985. The images you see reproduced here are renderings of the raw digital files for contemporary print and Web—a Gould version, if you will. Luckily, though, we might be on the right track, because the performance of these images is not entirely limited to a given medium, technology, or period, any more than an image can exist as a true original, as Warhol knew better than anyone. In 1986, when asked how he would like to see his sketches displayed, Warhol replied, “Well, we could get a printout. I could just print this out if we had the printer.” I hope he would have been OK with making a few thousand copies.
Join us on Saturday, September 20, 2014 at Richlane for a rebel grrrl dance party with famous feminist-themed drinks!
Celebrate and support the production of new feminist discourse and the work of contemporary women artists. We will be passing the hat, however, please note: donations are encouraged, not mandatory. We value presence over presents.
Proceeds will go toward the upcoming discussion series, All My Little Words, and group exhibition, Miss World, at PARMER in October 2014.
"That’s what I realized I was going for, not some one-line joke like, “Here’s a birdhouse that’s minimalism.” Rather, here’s a structure that’s loaded with pathos, and you still don’t like it, you don’t feel sorry for it, you want to kick it. That’s what I wanted out of the thing—an artwork that you couldn’t raise, there was no way that you could make it better than it was. Its function as art actually makes it more uncomfortable."
~Mike Kelley, Excerpt from a 1991 BOMB Magazine Interview
Mike Kelley. Catholic Birdhouse. 1978. Painted wood and composite shingles, 55,9 x 47 x 47 cm. Private Collection, New York. Photo: Courtesy Mike Kelley Foundation for the Arts.