Art in images

Films about art. Is that fun? Does it work? Is it possible to visualize other forms of art and, indeed, tell an interesting story about it? Without getting into a deep discussion about the subject, I would like to plead in favour of these films. And even that, although not every film succeeds in its attampt, there are beautiful examples that argue my point of view.

Starting with Untitled. A somewhat bizar movie, that premiered in the US in 2009 and took two years before getting to the Amsterdam art house cinema scene, about two failed New York artists. Failed might not be the right word though. When are you a failure? Adrian composes avant-garde music, where people have to kick buckets, where clarinet players have to scream and where paper is being torn in two. Is brother Josh makes paintings of dots and circles. His work can be seen everywhere: in hotels, in banks, at all these different places where no one expects art and where no one experiences his paintings as art. "I give myself three more years, if I haven't made it by then," Adrian says, "-then you take a job," replies his brother. "No, then I kill myself."
The great things about Untitled are the meaningless conversations, the semi intelligent comments, the superior critics, that all show you exactly what you've been thinking all along: the world of art is one big fantasy world, in which no one really knows what he or she is doing, As an ultimate proof of this, there's the artist that makes art of the world around him. By putting name tags on stuff, saying that they are exactly what they are. "Wall surrounding space." "Pencil." Instead of bringing the ordinary world into a museum, like Duchamps did, he turns the world into a museum.



Later this week, I saw Howl, about Allen Ginsbergs poem, which he wrote in the fifties. After it got published, the explicit language caused a lot of commotion, and the publisher got sued for obscene language. Next to Ginsbergs story, filmed in a documentary style, in black and white, the film also shows the trial in color. The nonchalance and artistry of an artist and his world against the official world of 'grown-ups', where people discuss terms like context, intention and use - in art. Does a poet need to use certain words, or could he use other words that just as well could describe is story, but in a decent way? The rythm of the film comes from the recitation of Howl by the actor playing Ginsberg, in a small, smokey room, in the presence of his friends, still unaware of the impact that his words will have later on. His words, that gain more meaning in other pieces of the film, the speed, the volume. And next to that, animations, that clarify the story of the poem even more.

Untitled made me happy, but also slightly depressed by the meaninglessness of art, but Howl is inspiring, exciting, provocative. Art is a personal experience, as was obvious when my movie friend started to roll a cigaret near the end of the film. When I pointed at it with a surprised look on my face, he whispered: "I think it will finish in a minute."

Duke and Battersby

This evening, Union Docs, a small non profit in Brooklyn that wants to show special projects to a bigger audience but also brings people together to develop new film projects, hosted a film night. Three films, all around fifteen minutes, made by the Canadian artists Emily Vey Duke and Cooper Battersby.

In the talk after the screening, they told about their relationship "Only work with people that you fuck, or have fucked for a ong time," as Duke put it. Once, they met, not in person but on paper. They both were putting up provocative posters in a small Canadian town, and recognized themselves in the other persons art. When they finally really met, collaboration was the only option. After seeing their films, I understand that when this is your art and you meet someone that understands it, you cannot let them go. I actually was surprised that there are actually two people who make films like these, and it's extremely special that they actually met.

What I liked about their films is that they combine different art forms: drawings, film, music, collages, weird stories. They don't make documentaries, they don't make films in it's pure form (a story that is being told by images that follow eachother). They are little art pieces, collages of thoughts, images, fragments and sounds, that are being put together. And, like with other art, you shouldn't think of it too much. Instead, just enjoy what you see.

The Beauty is Relentless from cooper battersby on Vimeo.

See more films.

Artistic

My parents used to take me and my little brother to art exhibitions when we were small. I vaguely remember all the hours I spend, dragging myself from one room to the other, being more fascinated by the people that dragged along than by the art on the wall. I preferred the sculptures outside in someones garden in summer, where I could play wit little bugs that crossed the line between nature and art and walked on sculptures like they were part of it. Once, i was so tired I sat down on a chair in a museum, only to finf a guard coming towards me with great panic in his eyes - in a sort of ice skating way, since you can't run in a museum - because apparently, that chair was part of the exhibition. How could I know that?

Once I started traveling, I discovered the deep impact of this part of my education. I felt the need to visit each museum I found on my way, even if I didn't really want to visit it. After years of therapy and group talks, I finally reached the point that I don't visit museums anymore if I don't want to. Because of that, I have only visit the Moma in New York, even after visiting this great city for four times. I approached the entrance of the Metropolitan three times, but once they were closed, once the sun was shining so hard that Central Park seemed more appropriate to visit and once I just wanted to buy a pretzel from the vendor who accidentally stood on that corner.

Once in a while, I do like to visit art - or supposed to be art - together with other art lovers. Last Saturday, I visited the REALisme fair, where I was surprised to find a lot of non-realistic art as well. Without bending forward to read name tags and descriptions of the art work, I tried to be touched by what I saw. In most cases, nothing much happened. I don't like eyes that could blink any moment, and landscapes don't do it for me.
But then, I found this painting. I saw it from far away and was pulled into it as I approached. One of the friends that joined me looked with surprise when I told him that THIS was what I liked. 'Sometimes, you totally lose me and I don;t understand you at all,' he said. I just felt happy. you only have to see one moving painting to have a great afternoon, and this came at the moment that I almost lost my hope.
On one hand, I was disappointed to find out it was made by Armando and it cost twelve thousand euro - I would love to buy it - but on the other hand, I was happy to know that I could still see what is really good, or what is decided to be good by other art lovers.

Decide for yourself: