▽ POPISM

I have recently had the chance to readdress one of my favourite pieces of art literature, which is none other than, POPism by Andy Warhol and Pat Hackett - Warhol’s personal view of the pop phenomenon within 1960’s New York. Warhol’s frankness, entertaining anecdotes and priceless humoUr make a truly engaging read and as it is written in an accessible, conversational tone, it is a book, just as Warhol’s art, which is easy to relate to and enjoy. Commendably, it provides the reader with a more humanistic view of Warhol, as he was known by many to possess a somewhat taciturn, enigmatic public persona. It is certainly a treat to see Warhol open up more, slightly revealing his true character, as well as explaining the motives behind his artistic production and means of working as an artist and filmmaker.

POPism effectively captures Warhol’s fascination with people. Despite his inherent shyness he was without a doubt, a people person. It is certainly no secret that he was particularly enamored with those in possession of astounding beauty or engaging character; one would usually be required to be blessed with that incomprehensible air of star-quality in order to capture his attention. The way Warhol describes all of his friends and peers in this personal account, makes it is easy to see that he found something of interest and value in them all. I believe Warhol possessed a very laudable degree of appreciation for most things, whether they were commonplace, consumerist objects or his work colleagues and friends. I think this appreciation, particularly that for people, was arguably a consequence of his highly religious upbringing, as it certainly appears a very Catholic notion, to see intrinsic value in everyone. Warhol claims that the 60’s were about people, not about what they did, and this evokes an uncanny similarity to the rise of reality television in recent years, where individuals who often do not do much, but are beautiful, rich or have interesting lives have their every move watched. Also, one must not forget the likes of social networking, were everyday people can brand themselves to some extent and have their everyday actions followed – this notion is also reminiscent of Warhol’s insightful words. It is certainly amazing to think that all of them years ago in the 60’s Warhol was endorsing in the type of culture that we are absolutely consumed by today in which everyday people can become famous or acquire a lot of attention with very little effort through reality television or social media sites. 

POPism also denotes something that presumably most people would already have guessed about Warhol – that he was a great businessman. Of course, pop art is intrinsically liked to commercialism and consumerism so it is no surprise really that the acclaimed ‘father of pop’ possessed great business acumen. However, the book reveals just how business orientated he was, and how it ultimately made him into a household name. I discovered that the content of his paintings would usually depend on the taste and interests of others, as he was often inclined to ask others what his paintings should be of. This of course meant he would always have an audience, even when pop art was not considered ‘good art’. I also ascertained that his flower paintings, which were exhibited in France were only produced because France was not interested in new art at the time - they had gone back to liking the impressionists mostly. Therefore, Warhol realised that the French would endorse in his flower paintings and he proceeded to take them to France. Once again we see he was a crowd pleaser; the content of his work could sometimes appear nothing more than an artful business move.  However, one of the most salient, business-minded claims that Warhol makes within this book is that in order to be successful one must always have their work exhibited in a good gallery. This is because the art that survives is that which the ‘ruling class’ decrees should survive, and if works are exhibited in good galleries the ‘ruling class’ are more liable to taking notice of them.

One of my favorite parts of the book is when Warhol proceeds to discuss the abstract expressionists, who simply begrudged pop art.  The abstract expressionists are described as butch, violent and tough. Their ruggedness is denoted as something of a tradition that went alongside their anguished art. I was both shocked and amused to hear one anecdote where Jackson Pollock apparently called Milton Resnick a ‘De Kooning imitator’, and Resnick subsequently asked him to step outside. I had always known that Pollock had been quite a character, but I had no idea he wound up in situations as extreme as this! Warhol makes a priceless comment with regards to the violent, brawly abstract expressionists – he asks the reader to imagine him walking over to fellow pop artist Lichtenstein and asking him to ‘step outside’ because he had heard he had insulted his soup cans!  Warhol’s character of course did not adhere to that of the typical abstract expressionist and neither did his most celebrated works. Nevertheless, it is rather interesting to note that within his first canvas paintings he did try to conform to the abstract expressionist style. He did two Coca-Cola paintings – one of the them with abstract expressionist hash marks half way up the side and the other just a stark, outlined Cola bottle in black and white.  It is a good job that Warhol soon came to his senses and did not try to adhere stylistically to abstract expressionism; his stark, outlined ‘plastic’ aesthetic is ultimately what provided a magnificent reflection of the commodity consumerist culture that was augmenting in 1960’s America, and subsequently made him a leading figure in the pop art movement.

Commendably, POPism reminds me not to have such romantic notions of the 1960’s New York factory scene as I am sometimes inclined to. I am often disposed to possessing an idyllic idea of the scene, but who could not be with the likes of Warhol, the beautiful Edie Sedgwick and the sensational The Velvet Underground all together at the silver factory constantly partying and creating art.  However, POPism provides a realistic depiction of what really went on within the factory scene, and most of the time it is not too pretty. There was drug addiction and death aplenty; all sorts of psychotic people could simply wander into the factory to steal from or cause harm to others. This of course reached alarming heights when Warhol himself was shot in 1968. The art, the culture and the glamour of the scene may have effectively embodied the zeitgeist of 1960’s New York and be romanticised in minds like my own, but a lot of bad things went on in the scene and a lot of lives were taken or destroyed by drugs and POPism certainly does not disregard this.

As far as I can recall, Warhol was one of the very first artists I ever knew of, for as a child I did not relate as well to a classic masterpiece as I did to an image of Mickey Mouse. I have grown up in the machinations of a consumerist, capitalist culture; therefore, I was of course more inclined, in my younger years, to understand and appreciate Warhol’s work - the work of a pop artist. I have always, as a consequence, felt an inherent connection to him and his work. However, after reading this book I must admit, I became even more fanatical about Warhol, as I was able to view him as a down-to-earth man with great wit, humor and intelligence as opposed to a cold, austere eccentric with a platinum wig and glasses who printed Campbell soup cans.

▽ TRACING THE CENTURY @ TATE

The biennial may be over but the city’s wealth of engaging art exhibitions and shows certainly makes up for the loss. My visit to Tate’s Tracing the Century exhibition yesterday was my first experience of viewing art after the biennial; fortunately, it did not feel like the come down after the biennial celebrations - rather, I felt it maintained the same level of energy and interest. It was certainly a pleasant change to visit an exhibition that did not conform to the theme of Hospitality, as after weeks of biennial events I was getting rather bored with the contextual restrictions of the theme.  Furthermore, after the vast amount of conceptually-driven video art I had seen during the biennial, and had frankly become rather tired of, it was brilliant to see pieces that were focused more on a tangible experience of art and possessed a rather interesting and diverse range of mark making techniques.

Tracing the Century: Drawing as a Catalyst for Change addresses the fact that drawing possesses boundless potentials for utilisation and has the ability to transcend a fixed set of conventions, which is why it can be incessantly re-invented and thus stimulate change in artistic production. As well as addressing drawing as a perennial artistic method the exhibition also regards artworks focused on the human body and the inner self, inspiring a profound discussion and juxtaposition between figuration and abstraction. As these two notions characterised art of the twentieth century, the exhibition meritoriously explores them in relation to each other, as opposed to exploring them as separate entities. My personal favourites within the exhibition tended to be those that reacted to the ‘figuration’ theme, as their focus on physical subjects meant they usually revealed a higher degree of draughtsmanship and mark making; after weeks of seeing conceptually-driven works in the biennial, this was something of a novelty. When I initially entered the exhibition I was quite unaware of its size; however, whilst proceeding further into it I became conscious of its vastness. Nevertheless, with it containing around one hundred works from the Tate collection, the substantiality of the space is clearly justified. I was particularly impressed by the exhibition’s means of curation - it had a real flow to it and there were many occasions throughout when pieces residing next to one another would not only complement each other aesthetically but would also share an interesting contextual parallel. The system of captioning was also effective, as captions were listed on the edge of the wall, and therefore not in the way of the art. Effectively, they inform the audience but do not detract attention away from the art. In my opinion, disturbing the viewing of displayed pieces is an error very easily made within museum or gallery captioning; therefore, I think Tate did a really good job of it throughout this exhibition.

Arguably one of the most thriving aspects of the exhibition is the great wealth of monumental names exhibiting – Picasso, Warhol, Gauguin and Emin, to name a few. I particularly admired how Tate had incorporated a fair share of great female artists, such Tracey Emin and Nancy Spero and had displayed them amongst the works of prodigious male artistic figures. It was a pleasant reminder that the art world has come along way with regards to the politics of gender.

I found Warhol’s boy drawings really special; there was a sense of emotion within them that is somewhat lacking within most of his more celebrated works. Laudably, they remind us of how great of a draughtsman he was, as due to his prolific production of prints and conceptual works, this was albeit forgotten.  Nevertheless, there is still a lingering sense of control and order, quintessential to the rest of his oeuvre that is produced by the controlled lines and abstracted shapes. It is clear, throughout the drawings that Warhol possessed a somewhat voyeuristic interest in the male body; therefore, it can be argued that these works provide an honest allusion to his sexuality, a subject that was at times just as ambiguous, as his curious, idiosyncratic persona. My favorite Warhol drawing was Resting Boy. The delicacy of the lines makes the male figure within the piece seem almost feminised. The piece recalls an innocent kind of desire, which evokes a pleasant wealth of emotion in the viewer. Explicitly voyeuristic, the boy looks as though he is sleeping and being watched. There is not, however, a sense of perversion behind the piece – but rather, a notable degree of innocence. Though there is undoubtedly a degree of sexual desire pervading through the drawing, I personally felt it was overridden by an evocation of naivety and innocence, with the slumbering figure looking rather young and angelic.

I was also captivated by William Orpen’s Anatomical studies, which were obviously an allusion to the exhibition’s theme of figuration within twentieth century art. They reminded me of my recent studies of Jean-Michel Basquiat, as he, just as Orpen, possessed a large focus on anatomy within his work and was inspired by the classic anatomical study - Gray’s Anatomy.  Orpen’s draughtsmanship within these pieces is truly meritorious – the intricate detailing, beautifully executed lines and meticulous psychical accuracy are truly something to behold. These drawings were originally used by Orpen to teach his students at the Metropolitan School of art in Dublin and would have therefore been seen more from a logical, educational perspective. It is great that the pieces can now be appreciated simply as works of art, as they are so beautifully rendered. One could undoubtedly argue that this level of draughtsmanship is somewhat missing from today’s art with the fashionableness of technology and with artists, to some degree, being expected to be social and political activists or to possess deep conceptual meaning within their work.

▽ CUNARD BIENNIAL SITE

Despite growing up in the city and living here all of my life, I had never stepped foot into the Cunard building before, or any of the three graces, for that matter. This therefore meant that simply entering the space and discovering what had been hidden from me all of them years, was, art aside, an appealing prospect on its own. When I entered the building I sensed a notable degree of opulence radiating from the interior. There was a certain sense of grandiosity attributable to the fact that 

this was once the central headquarters and main passenger terminal for the world’s most famous shipping company. This former utilisation of the building links rather effectively to the biennial’s theme of Hospitality when one regards how the building would have been a very welcoming and hospitable space for traveling visitors. I must admit, however, that I deemed the space far less engrossing than the Copperas Hill building; this was because it deemed itself much more sparse and rarely displayed any old relics from the building’s former utilisation. As much as I was there for the art there was an undeniable desire to uncover some of the building’s magnificent history, so I was rather disappointed to find myself in a beautiful, yet empty, relic-less shell.

One of the first pieces in which I was confronted with when entering was Liverpool to Let by a Danish art group called Superflex. Their work is quite literally a series of hanging ‘To Let’ signs, which make an allusion to the abundance of empty office and commercial spaces in Liverpool. Evoking ideas of the recession and economic struggle it practically epitomises the political and sociological context, which pervades today’s art biennials.

Unfortunately, the room that Liverpool to Let was displayed in was one of the worst examples of curation within the whole biennial I believe. I had heard others criticise the curation within the Cunard building, but I tried to be unprejudiced and decide for myself. However, I would undoubtedly agree with their criticisms. The pieces, which reside in the Liverpool to Let space do not aesthetically compliment one another - between them, visually, there is a discordant mixture of clashing styles and aesthetics. Even though I usually resent pieces being placed together simply because they harmonise visually, I think some degree of visual complementation is needed between neighbouring pieces. I would have criticised less if the pieces perhaps shared some inherent contextual or conceptual parallel, but from what I could gather - they did not. They may all subscribe to the biennial’s theme of Hospitality in some way or another but there is not an evident concept, besides this obvious commonality that exists between them. I particularly disagreed with Andrea Bowers’ City of Sanctuary being placed over Mona Hatoum’s Afghan (red and black), as the visual contrast between them was overtly disagreeable, in my opinion.  I simply resented the idea of an audacious neon sign hanging oddly over Hatoum’s piece.

I was thrilled to see Mona Hatoum’s Present Tense in the flesh. Although I had seen images of it in books and online hitherto, it was quite another thing to see it first hand. The smell of the soap, for one thing, made it a very sensory experience, which I obviously would never acquire simply looking at a secondary source. Notably, Hatoum produced it in response to the map of the ‘1993 Oslo Peace Agreement’ between Israel and the Palestinians. The lines produced by the red glass beads identify the territories that are to be given back to Palestinian authority. Hatoum has employed traditional Palestinian olive soap in order to symbolise impermanency. Because soap is a transient material it acts as a metaphorical reference to the idea that one day the new Palestinian borders shall disappear and be washed away.  The most thriving aspect of this Hatoum work I believe is how the materials she has utilised hold symbolic and conceptual importance with regards to shaping the work’s overall meaning. 

All in all, it was undoubtedly Mona Hatoum’s work that made my experience of the Cunard biennial site more than agreeable. My admiration of her work derives from its effective balance of high aesthetic value and profound contextual meaning. In other words, she laudably combines a beautiful visual with an engaging concept, which makes the viewing experience of her work both visually and mentally stimulating. With most of the work within the biennial possessing a somewhat non-retinal focus, looking to pursue concept over aesthetic, it was rather refreshing to see an artist such as Hatoum achieve the same success in her aesthetic as she more than always does within her concepts.