Saturday, 15 October 2016

Life's A Riot: Jimmy Cauty's Aftermath Dislocation Principle' At NAE, Nottingham



'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle' (Exterior), New Art Exchange, Nottingham, October 2016


Having shone a spotlight on (literally), the darkest corners of Bill Drummond’s creative practice - earlier in the year, it seems only fair to mention his erstwhile KLF colleague, and fellow art provocateur, Jimmy Cauty.  The chance came the other day, with the touchdown in Nottingham of his ‘Aftermath Dislocation Principle’ project, and personal appearance at New Art Exchange.


Jimmy Cauty, 2016

Jimmy Cauty/L-13 Light Industrial Workshop, 'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle' 2014


For those not in the know, ‘ADP’, is an extensive, 1:87 scale diorama, placed within a shipping container, and viewed in intriguing glimpses through multiple peepholes in the steel walls.  The scene represented is a tract of contemporary urban, landscape – based, according to Cauty, on an imagined version of Bedford.  It feels like a kind of notional, Middle England ‘everytown’, and it’s certainly true that, of all the cities in Britain - Bedford is one I have absolutely no distinguishing mental image of.



Jimmy Cauty/L-13Light Industrial Workshop, 'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle', 2014


What really distinguishes this landscape however, is not the topography itself - but the fact that it describes the dystopian aftermath of some non-specific disruption, riotous assembly, or other societal collapse.  It could even be an alien invasion or zombie apocalypse, if you wanted to imagine it - I suppose.  Equally, it might predict the 2017 protests against Government ethno-economic cleansing, the 2020 food riots, or the response to a major epidemic of completely antibiotic-resistant disease, (say, around 2024?)  All we see are clues, in the form of trashed buildings and vehicles, debris, and seemingly bemused media crews and Police.  The Police are everywhere, in fact – accompanied by the flashing blue LEDs of their tiny vehicles.



Jimmy Cauty/L-13 Light Industrial Workshop, 'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle', 2016


The piece has been touring the country for some months now - following an itinerary that corresponds with sites of previous rioting, both recent and historical.  Wherever it alights, the local hosting organisation has contributed contextual information on that particular aspect of local social history.  In Nottingham, the material produced supplies insights into the city’s dissident tradition, dating back to the medieval period, when it was often seen as a bulwark against feudal injustice [1.].   It also takes-in Nottingham’s importance as a Civil War centre of Parliamentarian resistance; and later - as the birth place of Luddism, an important nexus of the Chartist movement, and of violent protest in support of the 1831 Reform Act.  More recent flare-ups include the city’s race riots of 1958 and 1981, and its part in the wave of disorder that swept Britain in 2011.


'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle' (Exterior), New Art Exchange, Nottingham, October 2016
(Never Far From This Guy In Nottamun)


As Cauty pointed out, despite the inherent subversion of the piece, (and pretty much everything else he lays hands on), ‘ADP’ is not necessarily a simplistic hatchet job on the police.  It purports to report a disquieting - but all too imaginable scene; and one in which the tiny police are the only real stars, appearing perhaps as impotently perplexed by events as the rest of us.  In fact, closer examination of the various tableaux visible through the container’s limited apertures seems to reveal some of them to be engaged in subversive or increasingly absurdist acts of dissent of their own.  Faced with devastation on this scale, are they themselves starting to turn native?  Or, could it even be that they are the real authors of all that devastation?  What are their motives, exactly?



Jimmy Cauty/L-13 Light Industrial Workshop, 'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle', 2014


Whatever our interpretation, this certainly feels like a comment on the contagious nature of despair and apocalyptic collapse, but also an indication of how absurdity increases and accepted assumptions fail in direct proportion to intensifying authoritarian repression.  As one is drawn deeper into the microcosm of ‘ADP’ – the more it reveals a wealth of gags and sly, dystopian humour.  It makes the piece exceedingly apposite in our current situation, - perhaps even more so even than when Cauty began work on it in 2013.  Britain suddenly feels well and truly through the looking glass; and a place where sardonic humour may prove the best defense of sanity.


Jimmy Cauty/L-13 Light Industrial Workshop, 'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle', 2014


Cauty himself frames the container’s progress around Britain as a form of pilgrimage - highlighting the degree to which the history of political and social dissent has often had a powerful religious strand running through it.  This has often displayed a distinctly messianic or ‘end of days’ character.  The accompanying ‘ADP’ publication includes a revealing essay by Jonathan Downing [2.], which reveals that Bedford itself was the source of Bunyan’s ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ [3.].  It was also the home of Mabel Balthrop’s twentieth century Panacea Society – a group who believed their communal residential garden to be the original site of Eden, and the location to which Jesus would reappear to the world.  Anyway, having been aware of the container’s movements for some months, I was determined to catch up with it at some stage in the year.  Its tenure in Nottingham was my nearest opportunity to do so.


'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle' (Exterior), New Art Exchange, Nottingham, October 2016


As it turned out, my own little pilgrimage was nearly stymied by the presence of Nottingham’s famous Goose Fair - just up the road from New Art Exchange.  That meant Saturday afternoon traffic was even more congested than normal, and local parking a near-impossibility.  Having finally dropped lucky several streets away, I arrived a few minutes late - to discover Cauty and his ‘ADP’ collaborator presiding over a room packed with people, and had to satisfy myself with straining to hear what was said from the fringes.  Nevertheless, it was interesting to hear their reflections on the project, and responses to the various questions posed.




Jimmy Cauty/L-13 Light Industrial Workshop, 'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle', 2016


Cauty himself was a study in diffident humility and mild bemusement.  Or possibly, just exhaustion - the whole project appearing to have completely absorbed him as it’s expanded in scope and ambition over the months.  He claimed to be no model-maker, though admitted to being quite good at it - which I’d say is an understatement.  Regardless of one’s response to the motivations behind it, the sheer quantity of work and attention to fine detail involved in the model is properly impressive.  I was struck by the contrast between the painstaking work involved in its construction, and the apparent chaos it depicts.  In passing, I wonder if he was also responsible for the elements of model making in several of Last Century’s glorious KLF videos, (damn! – should have asked).





'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle' (Exterior), New Art Exchange, Nottingham, October 2016


It was intriguing to learn that this is actually only one of three ‘ADP’ dioramas, and that the whole thing will finally come together in a grand culmination in Bedford itself, at Christmas.  It appears that one of the remaining sections depicts the Police constructing a kind of fortified, concrete Tower of Babel, suggesting that they may have a New Jerusalem/New Bedford aftermath agenda of their own - to the exclusion of the displaced survivors.  The construction of walls, exclusion zones, and protected enclaves, along with an ever more paranoid fortress mentality, feels particularly prescient.  It may be well worth the trip to take in the full story, in December.



'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle' (Exterior), New Art Exchange, Nottingham, October 2016
(There's That 'Legal Name Fraud' Again).


As the audience dispersed, I made my way outside to join the other curious visitors who clamoured to press their eyes (and lenses) up to the container’s spyholes.  My own photos can only give the merest suggestion of what was visible inside.  However, I did collect numerous images of the tangle of graffiti, stickers, posters, anarchist tracts and guerrilla knitting - augmenting its exterior walls.  Indeed, it’s fair to say the piece is a true example of democratic outsider art.  Despite the main attraction within, (and the element of Arts Council funding now subsidising it, somewhat ironically) - the exterior is nothing but an organic and authentic bulletin board of just about every variety of voice from the streets.




Whatever else it may or may not evoke, ‘Aftermath Dislocation Principle’ feels like a powerful, multi-dimensional study of both the official and the unofficial; the governors and the (invisible) governed; and perhaps more importantly - of the ways in which they abrade each other.


'The Aftermath Dislocation Principle' (Exterior), New Art Exchange, Nottingham, October 2016





[1.]:  Something that may account for its memorialisation, in folklore - as the home of Robin Hood.  New Art Exchange itself is situated close to Nottingham’s Forest Recreation Ground, and only slightly further from its Sherwood district.

[2.]:  Jonathan Downing, ‘“A New City Will Be Built”: Apocalypse, Bedford, And The Aftermath Dislocation Principle’.  In: Jimmy Cauty, ‘The Aftermath Dislocation Principle 2016 Tour Guide’, London, Prophetic Promotions Press, 2016

[3.]:  John Bunyan, ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’, London, Nathan Ponder, 1678




Wednesday, 12 October 2016

The Game Of The Name



What’s this all about then?


West Leicester, October 2016

After driving past a couple of times - and deciding I couldn’t immediately decipher it, it was inevitable I’d feel the need to dig a little deeper.  Add to that my abiding interest in urban texts of all shades, plus the fact that it’s situated on the very mental mapping route in Leicester  that fed last year’s ‘Map 4’ painting.  Anyway, I quickly decided it needed recording and commenting on, at the very least.


'Map 4', Acrylics & Paper Collage on Panel, 60 cm X 60 cm, 2015

West Leicester, December 2014


It seems to fit into a similar category as the ‘Cultural Black Spot’ campaign I mentioned a few years ago, both in it’s arresting visual impact, and its use of an allusive, but unexplained legend.  In fact, like that previous example, it seems to have recurred in various locations around Britain - and to represent either some form of art prank, or slightly more obscure conspiracy theorising.


Central Leicester, December 2009

West Leicester, December 2009


Routine, superficial, on-line delving quickly throws up reports of its numerous occurrences, and speculation about its meaning.  It also leads one to the Legal Name Fraud website and the blog of a certain Kate of Gaia (and a plethora of possibly deranged theorising, cod-philosophising, and conspiracy paranoia over a variety of subjects).  This particular campaign seems to focus on the idea that the application of our own names is some kind of fraud perpetuated by ‘them’ rendering our own use of the same illegal without the State's express permission.  The issue seems to be one of ownership of our very identities, and the conclusion - that  any contract (or law?) based on assumed acceptance of its validity should be rendered null and void. 


Photo: Middlesborough Gazette, June 2016


Now, I love a good quasi-Situationist prank as much as the next old Leftie, even if this piece of gleeful mischief-making is clearly based on some particularly scrambled thinking.  The logic of this, however, does seem to point only towards unworkable chaos, and the undermining of any workable system of identity.  Even that is intriguing as an intellectual exercise, or an art gesture, but it leaves one burning (and also slightly paranoid) question in my mind...


West Leicester, October 2016


Who the hell is financing what must be a pretty expensive nationwide poster campaign?  And why?  The Kate of Gaia website suggests nothing more than the bedroom construct of a motivated online provocateur, of the sort that pepper the Internet, and cost nothing to compile.  It even makes use of pretty cheesy word art graphics, for goodness sake, whilst legalnamefraud.com uses the 'Comic Sans' typeface, - both of which makes me wonder just what kind of serious creative entity could be behind it?  The posters, however, demonstrate more serious design chops, and must be costing a fortune to distribute.  Who would bankroll a sniggering teenager or student prankster to that degree?  What’s in it for them?

Ultimately, for me, it’s just another of those physical portals in my local landscape - that opens onto an expanding mental landscape and raises more questions than answers.  But, does anyone know the real story?



Thursday, 6 October 2016

'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection' At Nottingham Castle



Leonardo Da Vinci, 'A Study For The Head Of St. Anne', Black Chalk (Partially Wetted) on Paper, 1510-15


I found time to call into Nottingham Castle the other day to take a look at the ‘Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection’ exhibition.  It would have felt like bad manners not to really: it’s not so often that such things make it to the East Midlands - after all.


Nottingham Castle Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016 

'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle
Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016


It’s fair to say that the work of so-called Old Masters has hardly loomed large in my consciousness of late as it once might have.  And I certainly don’t feel beholden to the Monarch for granting us to the favour of seeing artifacts that should really be on more permanent display in a public museum.  But, I suppose we should be grateful that anyone could still raise the insurance premium, (us all, indirectly – I suppose).  Whatever the ins and outs, there is a kind of timeless mystique that attaches to Leonardo, both in terms of a certain ineffable quality within his work, and how he epitomises (like no other) the cliché of the ‘Renaissance Man’.  Most of all, of course, the old boy could draw a bit.


Leonardo Da Vinci, 'A Male Nude', Red Chalk on Paper, 1504-05


Indeed, I’m sure you don’t need me to deliver an essay on the genius or significance of Leonardo here.  You can get all that from far more learned authorities than I, with very little effort.  Suffice it to say, modest though the ten little pages on display in Nottingham may be - it’s difficult not to be swayed once again by that combination of delicacy, precision, transcendence, and the sense of a fearsomely rational mind trying to work stuff out - way outside any contextual box.  There’s something fairly thrilling about being able to view, in one room, the sublime ‘A Study For The Head Of St. Anne’, the apocalyptic ‘A Deluge’, and a survey plan of damage caused by weir-currents to the banks of the Arno (nominally prosaic – but visually stunning).


Leonardo Da Vinci, "A Deluge', Black Chalk on Paper, 1517-18

Leonardo Da Vinci, 'A Map Of The Arno East Of Florence', Ink & Wash On Paper, 1504

Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Expressions Of Fury In Horses, A Lion And A Man', Ink  on Paper,
1504-05


Such things speak for themselves, really, and anyone with even the most superficial interest in drawing would do well to take a look, whenever the chance arises.  But what I really want to spend the rest of this post highlighting is the sheer weight of interpretation surrounding the actual drawings.  It seems to speak volumes about contemporary priorities and the role of the Curator in constructing numerous inescapable frames through which we are invited to view such cultural treasures.  In all honesty, ten little scraps of antique paper, bearing often quite minimal lineaments of chalk or ink, can rarely have been more diligently explained and interpreted, or presented in quite such a thoroughly meta environment.


Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Cats Lions And A Dragon', Ink & Wash Over Black Chalk on Paper, 1513-18


Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Studies For Casting An Equestrian Monument', Ink & Red Chalk on Paper,
1492-93


Leonardo Da Vinci, 'The Heart Compared To A Seed', Ink Over Black Chalk, 1508


Indeed, in order to reach the pieces themselves, the visitor must first pass a display of other examples of ‘serious’ drawing, and rooms containing the responses of contemporary artists to Leonardo’s achievements.  Once in the exhibition proper, they then move through an ante-chamber, larger than that in which the actual drawings are shown, whilst being info-bombed by large graphic panels - detailing the artist’s historical and cultural context, his wider oeuvre, and the significance of the Renaissance as a moment in cultural History.  They might watch a video on the importance of drawing, or peruse what I think is a catalogue of Leonardo’s work, but which I didn’t really have time to examine - before a helpful museum attendant was inviting me to download it as an app.   Should they feel so inclined, they could also commemorate their visit with a cardboard-cutout selfie as the Mona Lisa.   


Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Studies Of An Infant's Limbs', Metalpoint & Ink on Prepared Paper, 1490


Once in the inner sanctum, one finally encounters the drawings themselves - encapsulated in double-sided glass display units, or mounted on walls on which more extensive information texts demand attention.  Other wall legends fill in yet more vital context, or justify the importance of the Royal collection.  The prevailing decor scheme is Blue and gold and, whilst I understand the Conservator’s need for subdued lighting, I doubt the survival of the work depends on it being quite so theatrical or reverentially manipulative.



'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle
Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016


If this all sounds overly critical, I do understand the need to wring every last ounce of educational and cultural capital from the rare, peripatetic appearance of such trove in a regional, municipal museum.  And it is a museum, after all – with all that implies.  Also, having shelled out seven quid for admission [1.], perhaps the average Nottingham punter is entitled to expect a bit of a show, along with some attempt to explain exactly why they should be so impressed.




'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle
Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016


And yet, part of me wonders how my reaction to Leonardo’s drawings might have differed were they to have been allowed to speak for themselves to a greater extent.  It is of course quite valid to fill-in interesting background detail, not least where a drawing is essentially evidence of Leonardo’s researches, or just him talking over problems with himself visually.  I’m not quite so sure that I need my information graphics to be picked out in glistening gold, however.  It also feels slightly strange to be writing a blog post about ten fragments of such supposed artistic/cultural resonance, in which the main discussion and, dare I say it – perhaps the lasting impression, is of the lavish manner of their presentation.  The sad fact is that, however breathtaking those little drawings might be, they ultimately feel somewhat lost in the midst of it all.



'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle
Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016


Ultimately, I’m struck by just how routinely we are invited to consume an ‘Experience’ - rather than to actually absorb things on their own terms, these days.  But it is the twenty-first century, I suppose, - and I’m sure Leonardo himself would have been fascinated by all the technological and academic resources at the curator’s disposal.  Actually, I expect he’d have been downloading the app without a moment’s hesitation.




‘Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection’ continues at Nottingham Castle Museum & Art Gallery, Lenton Road, Nottingham NG1 6EL, until 9 October 2016.  There's just time, if you hurry.




[1.]:  It doesn’t seem that long since I was moaning about shelling-out a fiver to get into the same gaff!