Saturday, 26 January 2013

Robert Smithson: The Psychogeography Of New Jersey



I'm doing quite a lot of reading in the midst of my current phase of research and creative meditation.  Paintbrushes are being wielded on a small scale but in reality, most of my current activity is taking place between computer screens, camera lenses and the pages of sketchbooks and literature.




One book that's already making an impression, despite my being only part way in, is 'Robert Smithson: The Collected Writings' , edited by Jack Flam. [1.]  It was recommended to me by Andy Smith when we exhibited in Birmingham last November and my good friend Suzie was kind enough to buy me a copy for Christmas.  Thanks to them both; it's already providing plenty of food for thought.


Smithson With 'Spiral Jetty' Work In Progress.
Photograph: Gianfranco Gorgoni, 1970
Film Still From: Robert Smithson, 'Spiral Jetty', 1970


I knew Smithson as a leading light of the 1960s and 70s American Land Art movement and for his 'Spiral Jetty' constructed in Utah's Great Salt Lake but hadn't really considered the conceptual and philosophical underpinnings of his practice.  As the writings demonstrate, a wide range of serious and original thought lay behind his Minimalist Sculpture and later interventions in the physical landscape.  So far, two pieces have really chimed with my own interests, reflecting, as they do, an identifiably American Psychogeographical attitude to specific locations.


Robert Smithson, 'Untitled', Mirrored Plastic & Steel, 1964


'The Crystal Land' [2.] is Smithson's account of a geological expedition to the quarries of his native New Jersey, made with the Minimalist artist Donald Judd and their wives in 1966.  It fascinates me how Smithson switches focus between microscopic, macroscopic and personal spaces and between factual descriptions of the area's mineralogy; reflections on the aesthetics and mood of the region; anecdotes about the day's events and a meditation on the inconsequential details of their car's interior.  In one paragraph he describes excavating quartz crystals; in the next he discusses the area's middle-income housing developments, listing pretentious names and cheesy colour schemes, then explains how,

"The highways crisscross through towns and become man-made geological networks of concrete.  In fact, the entire landscape has a mineral presence.  From the shiny chrome diners to glass windows of shopping centres, a sense of the crystalline prevails." [3.]

A subsequent account of their ice cream break quickly becomes a discussion of the structure of ice crystals before Smithson embarks on the following description,

"My eyes glanced over the dashboard, it became a complex of chrome fixed into an embankment of steel.  A glass disc covered the clock.  The speedometer was broken.  Cigarettes were packed into the ashtray.  Faint reflections slid over the windshield.  Out of sight in the glove compartment was a silver flashlight and an Esso map of Vermont.  Under the radio dial (55-7-9-11-14-16) was a row of five plastic buttons in the shape of cantilevered cubes.  The rearview mirror dislocated the road behind us.  While listening to the radio some of us read the Sunday newspapers.  The pages made slight noises as they turned; each sheet folded over their laps forming temporary geographies of paper.  A valley of print or a ridge of photographs might come and go in an instant." [4.]


Robert Smithson, 'Untitled', Mirrored Plastic & Steel, 1965


Everything before that beautiful, pivotal paragraph relates to the theme of crystals, whilst everything after involves the dismal qualities of the wider landscape.  Slag heaps; quarry equipment; pylons; railways and fences predominate over "partially demolished" [5.] vegetation.  A neighbouring region of swamps, motels and garbage fires suggests a Martian film location.  Finally, the image of mineral structure returns as they re-enter New York City amongst the repeating square tiles of the Lincoln Tunnel.


Robert Smithson, 1962.  Photographer Unknown

The second document 'A Tour Of The Monuments Of Passaic, New Jersey (1967)' [6.] describes a later, solo expedition into the artist's home state and opens with him boarding a bus and perusing newspaper surveys of New York galleries and a S.F. novel by Brian Aldiss, (Entitled 'Earthworks') appropriately enough.


'The Bridge Monument Showing Wooden Sidewalks,'
Photograph: Robert Smithson, 1967
'Monument With Pontoons: The Pumping Derrick',
Photograph: Robert Smithson, 1967
'The Great Pipe Monument',  Photograph: Robert Smithson, 1967

The 'monuments' that that Smithson visits in Passaic are of the most mundane variety.  The first is a river swing bridge of seemingly utilitarian design that he photographs repeatedly with his cheap camera.  I'm instantly reminded of my own current habit of standing in the cold to photograph railway bridges and cement hoppers with a thoroughness verging on obsession.  Then follows an investigation of a pumping derrick, pipeline and a water outfall system in which Smithson suddenly shifts from factual description to sexual metaphor and wild free association.


'The Fountain Monument, Birdseye View',
Photograph: Robert Smithson, 1967

'The Fountain Monument, Side View', 
Photograph: Robert Smithson, 1967


I'm struck by how dazzling sunlight affects the photographer Smithson's relationship to his surroundings and,

"…cinema-ized the subject, turning the bridge and the river into an over exposed picture.  Photographing it…was like photographing a photograph.  The sun became a monstrous light-bulb that projected a detached series of 'stills' through my Instamatic into my eye." [7.]

The ways in which our experience of reality's continuum is modified once we interpose a lens between it and our eye is something that always fascinates me during my own photographic forays.

And so the piece progresses, through workaday streets and the sublime vacancy of car lots; amongst suburbs and an urban centre that actually feels very uncentered.  At each step the most conventionally unpromising of material provides the stimulus for associative thought, ideas generation and philosophical discourse.  Viewing a partially constructed road triggers a meditation on how suburbs grow, constructing a supposedly utopian future without any historical foundation.  He starts to see the future as,

"…lost somewhere in the dumps of the non-historical past;" [8.],

and observes that,

"…Time turns metaphors into things and stacks them up in cold rooms or places them in the celestial play-grounds of the suburbs." [9.]

Passaic appears full of holes to the artist, - spread thin in comparison with the density of urban New York.  These qualities of insubstantiality and anti-historical, vacant neutrality are, I think, a recognisable quality of those transitional zones often called 'Edgelands' today [10.].  Smithson's impressions of Passaic's lack of substance leads him to re-imagine it as a map of itself with himself standing on cardboard, not earth. 


Robert Smithson, 'Negative Map Showing Region Of The Monuments
Along The Passaic River',
1967


The piece ends with an almost metaphysical discussion of the nature of entropy, - itself triggered by his observation of the final monument, - a simple sand pit that he likens to a "model dessert" [11.].  It becomes the hypothetical arena for an experiment to prove his theory on the subject.


'The Sandbox Monument', Phtograph: Robert Smithson, 1967


I love these pieces, not least for the quality of Smithson's writing, but also because they seem to validate my own habitual view of the world and, (to others - possibly baffling), behaviour.  He exhibits an approach that is simultaneously intelligent, intuitive and imaginative and I applaud his ability to find visual delight and profound significance in the most overlooked of subject matter.  I'm inspired by his example to write more creatively in accompaniment of the photographs from my own expeditions.




[1.]:  Robert Smithson, Jack Flam (Ed.), ‘Robert Smithson: The Collected Writings’, Berkeley, University Of California Press, 1996

[2.] - [5.]:  Robert Smithson, ‘The Crystal Land’, 1966, In: Robert Smithson, Jack Flam (Ed.), ‘Robert Smithson: The Collected Writings’, Berkeley, University Of California Press, 1996

[6.] - [11.]:  Robert Smithson, ‘A Tour Of The Monuments Of Passaic, New Jersey’, 1967, In: Robert Smithson, Jack Flam (Ed.), ‘Robert Smithson: The Collected Writings’, Berkeley, University Of California Press, 1996

Saturday, 19 January 2013

Winterlude 2013





Transformations, - sometimes it’s all about transformations.  Sometimes I feel like I’m lazily wandering around the same square mile and repeatedly photographing the same things.  Then I remember that’s kind of the point really and that a significant part of my whole creative practice is to observe and record the processes of perpetual alteration, (both major and minor), within the environments I pass through.  So, whilst I’m always on the lookout for stimulating new locations, revisiting the same sites repeatedly over time is also a perfectly valid strategy for documenting those changes, even if they are simply climatic.





Please Tell Me No One Sleeps In Here

I was planning a trip over to Birmingham with the camera this weekend in an attempt to expand my horizons but as the white stuff fell from the sky, making driving and walking major challenges, I decided to just keep it local instead.  Rather than exploring texts, physical changes and general entropy in a different town, I found myself documenting my local neighbourhood in snowy conditions all over again.







Last year, I did this regular walk in crisp, clean snow and bright sunlight and the whole experience was quite uplifting.  This time, the scene was cast in flat, grey light with a hint of dull yellow in the sky that speaks of more snow to come.  There was a partial thaw with a lot of grimy slush, dripping water and a general atmosphere of gloom and despondency around the place.  Somehow, it all seemed too much like a reflection of the general national mood at present, (or is it just mine?).  The sound-muffling effects of the snow and reduced traffic levels suggested frustrated human activity and my walk was heralded by distant sirens as people broke their hips and played bumper cars in the background.





My photos became all about bleakness and, just as I began to suspect I was over-romanticizing it all into a big Cold War/Eastern European cliche, I found an old Trabant laid-up in a breaker’s yard.  Reality will bite you on the bum every time!



Thursday, 17 January 2013

Completed 'Risk Assessment 1 & 2'



At the start of the year, I find myself between creative projects with different ideas occupying my mind and vying for attention.  The start of the new school term means my day job now claims much of my waking time and energy again after the luxury of the holidays, just as I'd love to be putting more hours into unraveling some of those mental strands.


'Risk Assessment 1: Break Your Bones', Acrylics & Paper
Collage on Paper, 60 cm X 45 cm, 2013

The main thing is to recognize that these periods of seeking visual stimuli, contemplating possibilities and generally sorting wheat from chaff are all part of the creative process.  Freed from any concerns that I might be losing overall momentum, as once might have happened, I now understand it's important to put in the spade work of research and experimentation on the understanding that eventually a coherent plan of attack will emerge.  Last time I felt this way I remembered the importance of compartmentalizing everything into identifiable motivations, specific visual triggers and discrete themes, to have something clearly defined to pursue, and to understand where the connections and over-laps might exist.  At such times I often find myself filling the pages of a pocket sketchbook with spidery written notes and lists whilst juggling images.


Lincoln, December 2012 
Lincoln, December 2012
Lincoln, December 2012 
Lincoln, December 2012

Something I have done since Christmas is to take lots of photographs.  Amongst these are numerous examples of Heath & Safety signage and, in particular, hazard stripe graphics.  I posted some recently and include more here, including one or two that demonstrate my current desire to get a wider range of expressive qualities into my photography, both in-camera and through post production.  At present, they seem to be pointing towards an overall theme that I'm provisionally titling 'Risk Assessment' or maybe 'Take Good Care' in order to ring fence it mentally.


Tollerton, Nottinghamshire, January 2013
Tollerton, Nottinghamshire, January 2013 
Tollerton, Nottinghamshire, January 2013
Leicester, December 2012

I've also produced a couple of paper-based pieces that may become part of a small series of experiments around the theme.  These are quite uncompromising in their textual component and feel like an attempt to vent the angry frustrations that clouded my own mundane existence a few weeks ago and which emerge whenever I tune to the radio news.  They point towards a juxtaposition of the risk/responsibility-aversion of H&S culture with the real and terrifying existential crises revealed through daily news bulletins.  No one ever writes a document entitled 'Risk of Civil War', Risk of Religious Fanaticism’ or 'Risk of Inability to Afford Basic Needs In An Uncaring Society'.  They're more like a crude reaction than a thoroughly considered final statement but sometimes it's healthier to externalize stuff than to let it fester.


'Risk Assessment 2: Cut Your Throat', Acrylics & Paper
Collage on Paper, 60 cm X 45 cm, 2013

Several other identifiable ideas are beginning to coalesce in my mind, camera and sketchbook and which, hopefully, I'll discuss here once I’ve made a little more sense of them.

Grantham, Lincolnshire, January 2013 
Grantham, Lincolnshire, January 2013
Grantham, Lincolnshire, January 2013
Grantham, Lincolnshire, January 2013



Friday, 4 January 2013

Burial: 'Truant'/'Rough Sleeper'





Burial is paradoxical in several ways.  He became one of Dubstep’s biggest names but, whilst distilling that idiom’s dark, urban dread, his music follows its basic blueprint only tangentially and extends much further and subtly in terms of emotional vision.  Compiling an instantly recognisable signature sound from a notably small library of recycled audio elements, Burial’s novelty should have paled long since.  Instead, each new release has successfully found new possibilities within that limited palette, retaining the expressive impact of his early releases.


William Bevan, aka Burial

When William Bevan lost his anonymity in 2008, his carefully constructed mystique should have evaporated but it still feels more relevant to regard Burial as a shadowy entity haunting the contemporary urban and musical scene than to investigate his individual reality.  After two massively acclaimed albums, it might be assumed a third, even of lesser quality, would have quickly sold itself.  Instead, over five years, Burial has drip-fed us with limited, impeccably crafted and well judged tracks in twos and threes, as solo and collaborative projects.




‘Truant’ and ‘Rough Sleeper’ are the latest such artefacts.  As usual, I approached with trepidation, half-expecting the well to have run dry or finally to see through the hype.  Instead, I’ve fallen in love with Burial’s music once again.






Unsurprisingly, the usual formal elements are all present and correct.  They include:

  • Shuffling, skipping beats, - often two-step derived.  They remain noticeably unquantized and periodically appear to hesitate or stumble.

  • Profound, sculpted bass, clearly referring to Dubstep but used to create deeply immersive environments rather than being fetishized or allowed to browbeat the listener.

  • Simple, often beautiful and achingly melancholic. melody lines, usually constructed from a few repeated notes or washes of synthesized tone.

  • Pitch-shifted vocal samples that should sound ludicrous and cartoonish but, instead, convey considerable soulfulness.

  • Multiple and varied layers of crackle, hiss, aural murk and granular texture that evoke audio static, persistent rainfall or else just general entropy.

  • A plethora of puncta, and small details, including clicks, pops, metallic clinks and samples of intriguing dialogue.

Such is the self-referential nature of all this by now that any new elements can resemble massive breakthroughs rather than the steady evolution they actually represent, as is the case with the solemn organ and saxophone sounds that occur during ‘Rough Sleeper’.  Actually, where the real development is to be found is in Bevan’s manipulation of overall form.  Last Year’s ‘Kindred’ EP included the astounding ‘Ashtray Wasp’ which changed direction repeatedly over nearly 12 minutes, becoming almost symphonic in its references to past Trance euphoria.  The new tracks take this model further. Both appear to contain passages from several different pieces over their 11 – 14 minute durations with distinct pauses for breath between each transformation.


           


Clues to Burial’s intentions may come from the beautiful accompanying video, in which the nocturnal cityscape of Tokyo unfolds from the cab of an elevated train.  The idea of a meditative urban journey, - so often related to his music, is overtly depicted here.  As the train traverses different quarters, periodically stopping at stations, each musical hiatus suggests nothing so much as those brief halts in its seemingly perpetual transit, or even just the new view revealed each time a traveller closes and reopens their eyes.  The connection between electronic music and travel, or indeed immersion in urban environments is hardly new but few have made it this elegantly or reflectively.




I now realise I can probably take as much as this as Burial cares to serve up.  It may not be on his agenda, (and perhaps I’m old fashioned), but I look forward to the day when one of these extended suites reaches album length…



Tuesday, 1 January 2013

Still Standing





While I was out with the camera over Christmas I was able to document the latest incarnation of the old burned-out Donisthorpe factory.  I wrote about the sad loss of this important piece of Leicester’s industrial past after it burned in July and have been watching the changes the remaining edifice has undergone throughout the intervening months.






For much of that time, the brick shell was scaffolded, creating a whole new element of visual interest with even a hint of quasi-Modernism about the resulting grid and safety mesh.  Several photos here show that stage on a sun-drenched summer day that seems a long time ago now.







The scaffolding is all gone now and the building apparently stabilised with an internal structure of block work and an ad-hoc flat roof.  I have to assume someone thinks the building has a future and, even in this forlorn state, it does still form part of an impressive architectural cluster on the riverbank.  It’s also evident that whatever schemes the developers and planners may hatch, the graffiti writers pursue their own alternative agenda tirelessly.




It feels like documenting these constant processes of urban transformation, both official and unofficial, will remain an important part of my own creative practice into the foreseeable future.




Happy New Year.



Addendum:

A few hours after posting this I discovered it was receiving many more hits than I'm normally used to, - mostly from the USA.  I'd love to believe so many people are fascinated by my musings on the fate of an old factory building in Leicester, England but suspect I may have just got lucky with my post title.  Apologies to anyone who landed here by mistake while browsing for something else and to any that actually got this far, - Thanks for reading on anyway.