Sunday, April 25, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
&@$%
The BFA undergrad thesis exhibition “First World Problems” began today, April 20th, and there it will sit as a testament to our hard work and dedication for the next 10 working days before we are badgered into getting our crap out of there and repairing the damage our artwork has left on the galleries precious walls. This is the culmination of my class’s careers and studies in the field of art and it is as wide a spectrum of work as my class is a varied spectrum of assholes.
First, let’s discuss the name. “First World Problems” was not arrived at democratically but rather by Jamian Juliano-Villani who stepped up to lead when all others were too timid to raise their hands. As part of the publication staff it was our job to come up with a name that we, all 6 of us who met alone, could agree on and as soon as possible. We kicked around a few until Jamian suggested the name we have now and no one seemed to mind it terribly so it stuck. To be honest, I think it is fitting. Even before we knew what kind of work our peers were doing we just knew that there would be a bottomless well of self pity and entitlement hanging up on the walls of the gallery and what better way to call attention to it than belittle the people involved. We are first world people, we have no right to complain, but being a part of the art world it seems that is 50% of what we can possibly do. That doesn’t necessarily give our warped perception of challenge any vindication; I overheard a fellow thesis student who disliked the name we came up with and said she felt it was patronizing. What she didn’t realize was that by doing this she was proving the name more fitting than we could ever imagine.
I have in my hand a copy of the First World Problems exhibition booklet that gives a description of each of our work in the artists own words. If one of these booklets happens to find its way into your hands you may notice that I am not in it. I missed the class when people discussed sending all vital information to one student who would print it out into these booklets, but no effort on any one else’s part was put in to see if maybe any student was missing from the list either when it was first retrieved or before the booklets became printed. So, alas, there are now few records of my participation in this show but it is not all my fault; my stage, which you saw, was apparently seen as an “eyesore” by the higher ups and voted out of the gallery unless I could replace it with something more fitting with the room that I had no say in getting dumped in. I do not, however, have any delusions that this stage was a great work of art that is simply being misunderstood. I realize that the stage was shotty looking and unpolished but if they had the patience to see it through until my performance on reception night then they would understand that it was absolutely the point for it to be as disheveled as it was. I am also being charged with the use of gaffer tape to give it some semblance of being held together, as they suggested, but apparently the tape was for everyone else to use – not me. That’s not even the point; the point is that since when is crappy art not allowed in the gallery? In ANY gallery? What if this stage was my version of an Undergrad Junk Pile? It may not be a good thing to some but I have every justification to leave it in the gallery. As it turns out I don’t, so I lugged the thing into the dumpsters, never to be seen again. Some might say “easy come, easy go,” but even moving that thing required a time investment.
Back to the booklets, I’m looking at a copy and will go through most of the students whose work I remember. First is Jamie An-Wong and “The Good Earth.” Taking a look at humanities impact on the Earth, Jamie recognizes that we are now creating a new, human geology. She shows this by assembling samples of the Earths crust in clear plastic stands. Between the dirt and under the grass are newspapers, magazines, and other forms of human waste. I think this piece is one of the most powerful in the show and is a clear example of a well thought out conception and flawless execution. I do, however, think Amie had some help with her description because, honestly, I have never heard her say a full sentence in English, surely not with the vocabulary in her writing sample. I’m just being a jerk.
Ariana Arancibia, besides having a palindrome for a name (it’s not, don’t check), is someone that I was friendly with before thesis began last semester so I know a little bit about how she operates. She is a confident artist with a real grounding in reality, which is somewhat of a contradiction – “artist” and “reality.” Her work focuses on the aesthetics of skin by means of projecting crisp scans of wrinkled and folded skin onto cone shaped sculptures draped in fabric meant to echo but not mimic the pictures of flesh. This is an interesting way to showcase something as intricate and fascinating as skin in a unique way. I, personally, often lay in bed after I wake and exam how the light is cast on my hand to both get a better understanding of its design for my own artistic purposes and also marvel at its properties to shift and change, so I’ve already got an invested interest in this production.
Justin Breen needs to calm down. His sterile and uniformed art takes it form in text that he has placed in various locations around our building and even into the city of New Brunswick. These words are stuck to elevators, desks, walls, public benches, and aim to call people out on their daily task of noncommunication. “Reserved for Looking Away” in our elevator is a way of communicating a universal understanding that no one wants to talk in a confined space that moves vertically around our building and a way to break it. But, come on Justin, enough. His “reserved for seven up” stickers on the desks in our critique rooms were cute before we all had to actually PLAY seven up so we could all be participants in his art. I’m sure I wasn’t the only person in that room that had better things to do two weeks before our show opened than play a fucking elementary school game. Perhaps I’m just bitter. Perhaps it affected me so much because it was Megan Flaherty (the Grad student in charge) whose idea it was, the same person who felt my work was not worthy to be in a gallery setting with my fellow students. Perhaps I’m a little bitter because I am apparently the EVIL Justin who impedes the progress of my group and this other Justin is the GOOD Justin who should be given our undivided attention so that we may help him in exchange for our own time. Yeah, perhaps. It doesn’t change the fact that the GOOD Justin’s thesis is nothing more than a small table and two chairs, which I am sure he found somewhere in the building seeing as how they are covered in paint and I wouldn’t want any pair of my pants around them, and another one of his meaningless vinyl lettering signs on the adjacent wall. Bravo.
Michael Costa has created a game for his thesis in which you use a Wii to randomly generate flash animations that either have a good or bad connotation. An animation with a positive suggestion means you step up towards the wheel that is attached to the wall, and a negative suggestion of course means take a step back. When you finally get to the big, colorful wheel you spin it to see which type of CANCER you are diagnosed with and what your odds of survival are. Mike, I love ya buddy, but Jesus Christ it’s depressing. I don’t blame him for making cancer the main subject matter of pretty much everything he’s done seeing as how, you know, he had cancer. And to be honest there is a nuance to using a game system to power these images of brightly colored cartoon characters getting MRIs and losing their hair, all on your way to the big wheel of fate. What he is doing is showing that it can happen to anyone but it doesn’t have to be a death sentence, and on the wheel itself are facts about types of cancer, who is likely to develop it, and survival rates. It’s a brilliant display of originality and cleverness on the subject of something so dark and unpleasant.
Matt Battaglia made a comic book.
Kristen Kipilla is concentrating on the economy of line, but it is too much to ask that she calls it that. She says something about celebrating the overlooked aspect of blahblahblah, provoke a question of blahblahblah, breaking down systems OK ENOUGH. She made lines. Her work is lines. Orange lines, from what I can see. Contour lines of some mystery objects we can’t make out. Why do we, as artists, feel the need to pad the explanations of our boring work with contrived justifications? Speaking of which, let’s talk about Jamian.
Now Jamian, no matter how good she looks in tights, is someone I can’t force myself to like for a very simple reason. First, let’s take a look at some of the opening sentences that are found in this booklet:
Conor Mack – “My series Absence/Presence is the aftermath of a death in the family.”
Chris Rypkema – “I am making work about people’s personal stories.”
Hannah O’Brian – “I paint using acrylics, creating vibrant, nonrepresentational paintings.”
Simple, to the point, no need for unnecessary language enhancers that make you sound like a tool. Now, here is Jamian’s opening sentence:
Jamian Juliano-Villani – “Simultaneously rejecting and embracing the historicity surrounding painting, my work marries confusion, humor, pretense and democratic viewing.”
Jamian, stop it. What? What are you talking about? What does that MEAN? I don’t really know what Jamian is installing, but the last time I saw it (which was the night before the show opened so I’m guessing it hasn’t changed much) it appeared to be something akin to a homemade dog agility course with giant lights and tubes big enough for an adjunct to get through. So, you know, I’m not saying she is a hipster who thinks the more expressive her dialogue is the less we will be able to see that it is complete bullshit, but her glasses are way too big for her face.
I’ll leave on a good note and talk about Jennifer Manning’s paintings. Jennifer has a very detailed, photorealistic style that creates spaces deep enough to fall into. It takes a special painter to make me appreciate photorealism seeing as how my stance has usually been that if you are going to paint a photo then just take a photo; I usually don’t see any creativity in a simply photorealistic style, but Jennifer is so Goddamn talented that I want to reach out and grab the objects in her paintings. I mean, she goes on about sacred images and stuff, but really I don’t care. The girl can paint.
So there you have it, “First World Problems.” Lord knows if I was anyone else I’d have a field day tearing apart my video. I’d probably say something like, “The plot shifts from one shaky concept to the next with little to no transition,” or, “The midi track is distracting, the dialogue is hard to hear, and the presentation is sloppy and without merit.” Wow, what a dick.
First, let’s discuss the name. “First World Problems” was not arrived at democratically but rather by Jamian Juliano-Villani who stepped up to lead when all others were too timid to raise their hands. As part of the publication staff it was our job to come up with a name that we, all 6 of us who met alone, could agree on and as soon as possible. We kicked around a few until Jamian suggested the name we have now and no one seemed to mind it terribly so it stuck. To be honest, I think it is fitting. Even before we knew what kind of work our peers were doing we just knew that there would be a bottomless well of self pity and entitlement hanging up on the walls of the gallery and what better way to call attention to it than belittle the people involved. We are first world people, we have no right to complain, but being a part of the art world it seems that is 50% of what we can possibly do. That doesn’t necessarily give our warped perception of challenge any vindication; I overheard a fellow thesis student who disliked the name we came up with and said she felt it was patronizing. What she didn’t realize was that by doing this she was proving the name more fitting than we could ever imagine.
I have in my hand a copy of the First World Problems exhibition booklet that gives a description of each of our work in the artists own words. If one of these booklets happens to find its way into your hands you may notice that I am not in it. I missed the class when people discussed sending all vital information to one student who would print it out into these booklets, but no effort on any one else’s part was put in to see if maybe any student was missing from the list either when it was first retrieved or before the booklets became printed. So, alas, there are now few records of my participation in this show but it is not all my fault; my stage, which you saw, was apparently seen as an “eyesore” by the higher ups and voted out of the gallery unless I could replace it with something more fitting with the room that I had no say in getting dumped in. I do not, however, have any delusions that this stage was a great work of art that is simply being misunderstood. I realize that the stage was shotty looking and unpolished but if they had the patience to see it through until my performance on reception night then they would understand that it was absolutely the point for it to be as disheveled as it was. I am also being charged with the use of gaffer tape to give it some semblance of being held together, as they suggested, but apparently the tape was for everyone else to use – not me. That’s not even the point; the point is that since when is crappy art not allowed in the gallery? In ANY gallery? What if this stage was my version of an Undergrad Junk Pile? It may not be a good thing to some but I have every justification to leave it in the gallery. As it turns out I don’t, so I lugged the thing into the dumpsters, never to be seen again. Some might say “easy come, easy go,” but even moving that thing required a time investment.
Back to the booklets, I’m looking at a copy and will go through most of the students whose work I remember. First is Jamie An-Wong and “The Good Earth.” Taking a look at humanities impact on the Earth, Jamie recognizes that we are now creating a new, human geology. She shows this by assembling samples of the Earths crust in clear plastic stands. Between the dirt and under the grass are newspapers, magazines, and other forms of human waste. I think this piece is one of the most powerful in the show and is a clear example of a well thought out conception and flawless execution. I do, however, think Amie had some help with her description because, honestly, I have never heard her say a full sentence in English, surely not with the vocabulary in her writing sample. I’m just being a jerk.
Ariana Arancibia, besides having a palindrome for a name (it’s not, don’t check), is someone that I was friendly with before thesis began last semester so I know a little bit about how she operates. She is a confident artist with a real grounding in reality, which is somewhat of a contradiction – “artist” and “reality.” Her work focuses on the aesthetics of skin by means of projecting crisp scans of wrinkled and folded skin onto cone shaped sculptures draped in fabric meant to echo but not mimic the pictures of flesh. This is an interesting way to showcase something as intricate and fascinating as skin in a unique way. I, personally, often lay in bed after I wake and exam how the light is cast on my hand to both get a better understanding of its design for my own artistic purposes and also marvel at its properties to shift and change, so I’ve already got an invested interest in this production.
Justin Breen needs to calm down. His sterile and uniformed art takes it form in text that he has placed in various locations around our building and even into the city of New Brunswick. These words are stuck to elevators, desks, walls, public benches, and aim to call people out on their daily task of noncommunication. “Reserved for Looking Away” in our elevator is a way of communicating a universal understanding that no one wants to talk in a confined space that moves vertically around our building and a way to break it. But, come on Justin, enough. His “reserved for seven up” stickers on the desks in our critique rooms were cute before we all had to actually PLAY seven up so we could all be participants in his art. I’m sure I wasn’t the only person in that room that had better things to do two weeks before our show opened than play a fucking elementary school game. Perhaps I’m just bitter. Perhaps it affected me so much because it was Megan Flaherty (the Grad student in charge) whose idea it was, the same person who felt my work was not worthy to be in a gallery setting with my fellow students. Perhaps I’m a little bitter because I am apparently the EVIL Justin who impedes the progress of my group and this other Justin is the GOOD Justin who should be given our undivided attention so that we may help him in exchange for our own time. Yeah, perhaps. It doesn’t change the fact that the GOOD Justin’s thesis is nothing more than a small table and two chairs, which I am sure he found somewhere in the building seeing as how they are covered in paint and I wouldn’t want any pair of my pants around them, and another one of his meaningless vinyl lettering signs on the adjacent wall. Bravo.
Michael Costa has created a game for his thesis in which you use a Wii to randomly generate flash animations that either have a good or bad connotation. An animation with a positive suggestion means you step up towards the wheel that is attached to the wall, and a negative suggestion of course means take a step back. When you finally get to the big, colorful wheel you spin it to see which type of CANCER you are diagnosed with and what your odds of survival are. Mike, I love ya buddy, but Jesus Christ it’s depressing. I don’t blame him for making cancer the main subject matter of pretty much everything he’s done seeing as how, you know, he had cancer. And to be honest there is a nuance to using a game system to power these images of brightly colored cartoon characters getting MRIs and losing their hair, all on your way to the big wheel of fate. What he is doing is showing that it can happen to anyone but it doesn’t have to be a death sentence, and on the wheel itself are facts about types of cancer, who is likely to develop it, and survival rates. It’s a brilliant display of originality and cleverness on the subject of something so dark and unpleasant.
Matt Battaglia made a comic book.
Kristen Kipilla is concentrating on the economy of line, but it is too much to ask that she calls it that. She says something about celebrating the overlooked aspect of blahblahblah, provoke a question of blahblahblah, breaking down systems OK ENOUGH. She made lines. Her work is lines. Orange lines, from what I can see. Contour lines of some mystery objects we can’t make out. Why do we, as artists, feel the need to pad the explanations of our boring work with contrived justifications? Speaking of which, let’s talk about Jamian.
Now Jamian, no matter how good she looks in tights, is someone I can’t force myself to like for a very simple reason. First, let’s take a look at some of the opening sentences that are found in this booklet:
Conor Mack – “My series Absence/Presence is the aftermath of a death in the family.”
Chris Rypkema – “I am making work about people’s personal stories.”
Hannah O’Brian – “I paint using acrylics, creating vibrant, nonrepresentational paintings.”
Simple, to the point, no need for unnecessary language enhancers that make you sound like a tool. Now, here is Jamian’s opening sentence:
Jamian Juliano-Villani – “Simultaneously rejecting and embracing the historicity surrounding painting, my work marries confusion, humor, pretense and democratic viewing.”
Jamian, stop it. What? What are you talking about? What does that MEAN? I don’t really know what Jamian is installing, but the last time I saw it (which was the night before the show opened so I’m guessing it hasn’t changed much) it appeared to be something akin to a homemade dog agility course with giant lights and tubes big enough for an adjunct to get through. So, you know, I’m not saying she is a hipster who thinks the more expressive her dialogue is the less we will be able to see that it is complete bullshit, but her glasses are way too big for her face.
I’ll leave on a good note and talk about Jennifer Manning’s paintings. Jennifer has a very detailed, photorealistic style that creates spaces deep enough to fall into. It takes a special painter to make me appreciate photorealism seeing as how my stance has usually been that if you are going to paint a photo then just take a photo; I usually don’t see any creativity in a simply photorealistic style, but Jennifer is so Goddamn talented that I want to reach out and grab the objects in her paintings. I mean, she goes on about sacred images and stuff, but really I don’t care. The girl can paint.
So there you have it, “First World Problems.” Lord knows if I was anyone else I’d have a field day tearing apart my video. I’d probably say something like, “The plot shifts from one shaky concept to the next with little to no transition,” or, “The midi track is distracting, the dialogue is hard to hear, and the presentation is sloppy and without merit.” Wow, what a dick.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
First World Problems
It is Sunday night, 3:50 am, I still have in front of me audio for my video that I JUST finished. The video itself is pretty much done, but I had to work on the soundtrack at home and my buggy laptop was not making that easy - speaking of not making things easy, the fucking Macs in the editing lab at Mason Gross can suck it. I've never been more frustrated with an inanimate object than going from one machine to another trying desperately to make it do the simple tasks I require it do it.
Oh I know, lets make a computer mouse with only one button! The entire shell will be one HUGE BUTTON! HEY SOMEONE GET ME A DICK TO PUT IN MY MOUTH BEFORE THIS BRAINTRUST MEETING OF APPLE EXECUTIVES ENDS!
iCock, coming soon.
I'm glad I was able to put in a short cartoon about how much I hate Macs in my video. I'm a little surprised, actually, that I was able to since a) I was using a program that is really not for animation, b) I had to hand draw the characters and the various scenes, and c) I am lazy as FUCK. When I get home its hot dog and Pokemon time. But somehow I man'd up and got some work done and THANK GOD 'cause it is coming down to the wire. I've got to take this baby to school and make a DVD, which takes forever, and let's not forget about supplying some extra time for the computer to freeze/crap out on me/straight up not want to do its goddamn job/fail to burn the DVD correctly/give me some bullshit error message. Then I'm gonna run it down to the gallery and pray that when things go wrong (and they will) that it isn't a big deal or at least not on opening night. Ugh.
Fuck, then I got to make a documentary about all this shit for Video class. I've got to get someone to interview me, I've got to interview other people ABOUT me, and go through all this bullshit all over again. FUCK and I have an essay and exams...How much is killing yourself nowadays? Nah I can't afford it.
I hate all these post graduate friends of mine that are all like "oh man I WISH I was still in school" when I complain about my workload. They act like living at their parents house and delivering pizza is what their colleges were PREPARING THEM FOR. That isn't the real world, guys. I'd rather have a 9-5 then HOMEWORK. I mean, shit, at least when you get home from your job you can forget about it and play some Pokemon. But no I get home and I'm like "ok, fuck, what do I have to do...write that shit, gotta record that shit, draw that shit..." I mean, I rarely DO IT but that's not the point. Fuck.
Oh I know, lets make a computer mouse with only one button! The entire shell will be one HUGE BUTTON! HEY SOMEONE GET ME A DICK TO PUT IN MY MOUTH BEFORE THIS BRAINTRUST MEETING OF APPLE EXECUTIVES ENDS!
iCock, coming soon.
I'm glad I was able to put in a short cartoon about how much I hate Macs in my video. I'm a little surprised, actually, that I was able to since a) I was using a program that is really not for animation, b) I had to hand draw the characters and the various scenes, and c) I am lazy as FUCK. When I get home its hot dog and Pokemon time. But somehow I man'd up and got some work done and THANK GOD 'cause it is coming down to the wire. I've got to take this baby to school and make a DVD, which takes forever, and let's not forget about supplying some extra time for the computer to freeze/crap out on me/straight up not want to do its goddamn job/fail to burn the DVD correctly/give me some bullshit error message. Then I'm gonna run it down to the gallery and pray that when things go wrong (and they will) that it isn't a big deal or at least not on opening night. Ugh.
Fuck, then I got to make a documentary about all this shit for Video class. I've got to get someone to interview me, I've got to interview other people ABOUT me, and go through all this bullshit all over again. FUCK and I have an essay and exams...How much is killing yourself nowadays? Nah I can't afford it.
I hate all these post graduate friends of mine that are all like "oh man I WISH I was still in school" when I complain about my workload. They act like living at their parents house and delivering pizza is what their colleges were PREPARING THEM FOR. That isn't the real world, guys. I'd rather have a 9-5 then HOMEWORK. I mean, shit, at least when you get home from your job you can forget about it and play some Pokemon. But no I get home and I'm like "ok, fuck, what do I have to do...write that shit, gotta record that shit, draw that shit..." I mean, I rarely DO IT but that's not the point. Fuck.
Friday, April 9, 2010
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