R I C K Y

G R A N DC H A S M

Photographs LUCY PARAKHINA

'Grand Chasm' is KENZIE LARSEN, WILLIAM MANSFIELD & EDDIE SHARP.

Showing now–11 December, Firstdraft Gallery, Surry Hills, Sydney.

S P A R EN I N EM I N U T E S

T O M M A S OS A R T O R I

Images from the series 'Breaking The Waves'.

TOMMASO SARTORI.

M YW O R K H O L E

Thanks for visiting ZOLTAN!

S S S L O WL I I I I I F E/ M I X T A P E

A new mixtape collating 50 minutes of my slow-time favourites. Featuring The Fall, Free, Anna Domino, Can, Psychic tv, Daevid Allen, Neu! & more...

Download: SSSLOW LIIIIIFE

01. Spirit — Daevid Allen & Euterpe
02. Just Drifting — Psychic TV
03. With The Day Comes Dawn — Anna Domino
04. Free Me — Free
05. Sköna Låten — Solar Plexus
06. Before The Moon Falls — The Fall
07. Adventures Close To Home — The Raincoats
08. Dänzing — Neu!
09. No Go Go — Psychic TV
10. Wattwurm — Liliental
11. Unfinished — Can
12. Armée Guinéenne — Bembeya Jazz National

B A B A KR A D B O Y

From the 'FAILURE' project for BIDOUN #11

From RADBOY's website:

b. 1983, Tehran Iran
BABAK RADBOY lives in New York City where he works as the creative director of BIDOUN magazine and a freelance art-director. Meanwhile he attends to a large and eccentric archive of books and magazines, which are essential to his practice as an artist. Currently his work is focused on a myopic inventory of the signs of the 20th century as they appear in print. Initially gathered as material for collage, his collection and his output has shifted in an effort to consider images, books, and printed ephemera without regard to their rhetorical, representational, or textual content. He aims to use source documents as a raw material in a manner more associated with sculpture and painting.

BABAK RADBOY.

A N D E R SC L A U S E N

From ANDERS CLAUSEN, HOTEL, London
10 Feb—27 Mar, 2010

Press Release: A FILE RATHER THAN A TEXT?

A recent unscientific survey in my head suggested that fewer and fewer people want to grow up to be art forgers or computer hackers. Why? Are we just too busy being vaguely fascinated by our so terribly nice-looking tools? Are there already new specific words for states like the numb distraction you feel when you can’t find a file on your desk top in an instant? When you are so used to an interface that you don’t think about it any more even though you look at it thousands of times a day? When you can’t even tell the difference between it and you? When you sit at a screen all day long and it really does feel like your very own super-connected personal window on the world as you want to see it, or for what happens when the interface suddenly but inevitably changes? Art generally feels more comfortable with obsolescent media and conspiracy theories. For art wanting some kind of critical distance on progress, old out-dated technologies offer solace––handwriting, the typewriter, Super 8, handmade collages, screen-prints, photographs you printed yourself. It’s easy to forget that some classic Pop art (before digital windows popped-up) once looked bitingly new––like ironic, ultra-cynical, visual feedback embracing the enemy and loving him hard. Mimicry and camp repetition thankfully remain both the cruellest and most effective strategies in social interactions involving encoded, oblique but omnipotent power relations. You are the consumer, the user and we have designed places for you to feel happy and to get things done. So what’s wrong? A few years back a Singaporean artzine designed by a group of art graduates satirically suggested to its readers that they should put away their expensive laptops during studio visits in order to seem more authentic and less spoiled. In the last years I find it hard to think of a studio visit without one. That’s not necessarily bad but maybe it’s time to own up to our tools and our deeply ambivalent relationship to them. Don’t question my production, my post-production, my continual interruptions, my worm-like digressions. We all face questions relating to formats and fitting nearly everything we care to do or imagine into one which rarely works whatever operating system or programs you happen to be using. Art history has many windows opened. I wonder what abstract artist HANS HOFFMAN would think of ANDERS CLAUSEN’s screenshot series? Some of which, by the way, are straight up replica lies or reconstructions of the eerily friendly, the overfamiliar and mega-strange, and others, which are both appropriations and confessions. Pushed and pulled this way and that by various kinds of subjective urgencies whether sexual, financial, professional, micro-social. Each formal scheme overlays others. Something else—let’s admit that most collages don’t look like collages any more they are much too sneaky, beyond doubt—that’s what we want isn’t it, not the past and not more realness but far, far less? Translucent, seamless, beckoning, rupture-less, untouchable and easy. Most images we know are pumped up. When you scroll down where are you going? When you scroll up again is everything still there?

Via HOTEL, London.

P A U LT S C H I N K E L ' SI N N E R T U B E

PAUL TSCHINKEL'S INNERTUBE; Manhatten Cable Television, 1974—1984.

See also: ART/NEW YORK.

M YT E L E V I S I O NB R O K E

Maybe Shambo ate something she wasn't supposed to.