Live Blog @ The Stills (2): It's the Economy, Stupid

Some Live Blog, this: I am starting off in the basement (the staff at Stills are charming and are having a fascinating conversation that I am rudely listening to, taking notes to steal their ideas about objectivity). I have a coffee, I have an internet connection and I have the curator's introduction to read.

The scale of the exhibition is vast: they have some serious names on the walls and the screens, and the theme serious. I have decided that I need to start off by examining the approach of the curators. My usual approach, to just pile in and work out the intention later, is not going to work. I need to find a path, and I am willing to let the curators guide me.

"What is changing is our relationship to the economy as a necessary response to the economy’s own transformation. In the unforgettable vision of Marx and Engels’ Communist Manifesto, all that is solid melts into air – yet again. The end of the Cold War, symbolically represented by the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, generated a number of ‘turns’ in the context of contemporary art: turns to collectivism, to the making of archives, to social bonds, relations and communities, to labour, to biopolitics and the document, to struggle. This restless quest for the right ‘tag’ has been one way of saying that contemporary art is, finally, becoming new as it focuses its efforts on the exploration of the material conditions that make reality what it is."

In other words, the art selected is not content to sit on the sidelines and enjoy itself with games of taste or style. It wants to examine how it fits into the world, what are the economic conditions that allow art to find itself on the walls of the gallery - or perhaps in the stylish bedroom and boardroom of those who can afford to buy it.

"Post-1989 art has developed new strategies to reveal capitalism’s new frontier: ourselves."

Back when capitalism had an ideology worth the battle, it was more concerned with conquering new territory. Winning nations for the market was the prize: then the USSR collapsed and communism no longer gave capitalism a good enough battle. So it turned on the consumers, trying to conquer their minds, shape their behaviour. 

Like the way that I have tried to turn myself into a brand. The VileArts is not Gareth K Vile, but a brand that people buy. Lucky it is so cheap.

The curators note that art from Eastern Europe is far more explicit in its interest in this internalised oppression - probably because the transition from communism to capitalism happened relatively recently, and was very abrupt. In the UK, capitalism has been knocking about for most of the past millennium in various forms. In Poland, it turned up less than three decades ago. 

They add that many of the artists are women, because the process of capitalism's advance are often gendered - based on ideas of male and female that are frequently static and even old fashioned.  

So, I am expecting the exhibition to reveal the human impact of economic decisions: not simply in the form of shocking images of exploited workers, but describing the most subtle effects of capitalism on personal identity.

Eric versus Vile at Stereo (part 3)

GKV: Okay. The mood shifted while I was uploading the last blog. A woman is dressing on stage. She was saying that she feared...

EK:  In the silence of the Stereo basement, she began to speak, and undress. But this was no ordinary striptease. She essentially exposed herself, in a literal sense, while also exposing her thoughts. It was about fear. As human beings, we fear many things, especially in a social environment - we fear being humiliated, we fear forgetting someone's name...

I don't think this had anything to do with the sexual element of the removal of clothing. Removing clothing is like peeling the layers off an onion, exposing what lies within; so how does one expose what lies within the 'onion'? Beneath the skin, beneath clothing? I guess that was a taster of it right there.


'I fear forgetting this moment.
I fear your judgement.'

GKV: And I am back. The next band are up: Big Hogg. They have a flute and a trombone, and come from a muscular, progressive rock angle. It's good to find such an eclectic range of bands on one bill: I was expecting a couple of acts sounding more like Natalie Pryce, but this evening's curation emphasises difference. It does have a cabaret aesthetic - diversity of arts, diversity of sexualities. What the artists seem to share is a seriousness.

EK: Yeah, but they also seem to enjoy what they are doing. The last note of the first tune barely has time to reverberate into silence before the audience clap in approval. Big Hogg have no connection to the metal sound of Dog Moon Howl; although they have an electric guitar thrown into the mix, they're using it completely differently.

GKV: I think this is getting to the core of our partnership. I am a jaded old man, and  can't help pointing out how I have heard everything before. These guys are giving me memories of Jethro Tull - although the flautist isn't just giving it showy solos - but you can  hear things through fresh ears. And you can probably hear the higher frequencies that I lost by standing too close to a speaker stack at Instal in 2004.

There's something about a trumpet that lends a band a triumphant sound. They are jamming an instrumental here... build and falls, solid chord slams. Yeah, that's a big 1970s, pre-punk.

Anyway - what's your overall feeling of the evening so far? And is that air piano?

EK: It is a very interesting evening. I'm enjoying it - especially the variety of stuff on show. Look, Derek McLuckie is enjoying it too! Anyway, it feels remarkably relaxed; there's no high-adrenaline stunts going on, or any particular distance from the performers. I suppose the venue set-up sort of helps with that.

Vile versus Eric at Stereo (part 2)

EK: Focus, man! Burlesque dancer on the stage! Crowd cheering, guys whistling... typical, I guess. But then, you're tired of nudity on stage, aren't you? And the crowd quickly disperses...

GKV: Yes. That's why I am off for a coffee. And keeping you typing so you are not corrupted by Miss Hell's Belle's striptease.

EK: Well, it's over now. What to do. Not my fault I get excited by these things... Although admittedly, it's more fun in the intimacy of a bedroom. I can see why you tire of the nude on stage - what is the joy of that?
And Derek McLuckie takes the stage.
Extremely poetic narration ensues. It doesn't always rhyme, but he is telling us a story that sounds like a dream. Or a nightmare.
'Machine gun rattles, old woman cackles...'

GKV: It's exciting to see McLuckie going solo... dressed up as a fireman, then one quick change and he's an American starlet in 1952. He's trawling through the glamorous era of  Hollywood. An abortive romance with Steve McQueen is told in a thick Glasgow accent. Then the last days of Marilyn Monroe recited in the voice of a jaded friend of the sex goddess.

It's even better as a juxtaposition - a queer balance upsetting what could have been a rather macho evening of blues rock and striptease. McLuckie is relating a memory of an orgy starring Jack Kennedy, in drag, but the surreal narrative is contrasted by the specificity of the detail. The crowd is silent - my typing is the loudest sound and I am feeling self-conscious.

EK: And we are back to the thick Glaswegian accent, to the rhyming. And he slips into a clearer accent, almost like Dracula.
 'Jealousy is mine'
Commercial break.
Advertising a doll  of Judy Garland - the 'perfect gift for young queens everywhere'. I wonder how many layers of meaning we have to unpeel to thoroughly understand this performance.

GKV: He's jumping between different moods - sometimes singing, other times getting vernacular and even poetic. There's a theme of disappointment and twisted romance throughout... he refers back to classic camp icons, that feminine glamour of Monroe, the ballet dancer, Judy Garland, filters them  through the alienation of a very Glaswegian nightlife. There are corpses littered through the monologue.
EK: And now he speaks of Camp, a wrinkly old lady seducing young men. The audience hangs on his every word. He speaks of elderly masturbation, and 'entertainment'. Not sure what to make of that.

GKV: He's good. He has a presence, and it's fascinating to see him stripped of scripts and props and theatrical supports.

EK: His energy reminds me of the solo performance titled TITUS at THAT Festival, part of a very young, adrenaline-filled triple bill. There was no need for him to move at all, because he tells a story so well.

Live Blog: Vile versus Eric at Stereo

GKV: Hey Eric, I've just realised we can probably get a signal for the internet in Stereo. Fancy doing a live blog review of Nights at the Circus?

EK: Sure, why not? I'm impressed this works.

GKV: The magic of the Vile Arts. So - a bit of scene setting. We are in the basement of Stereo, the event has been curated by Natalie Pryce - we've been punting their new album on the show because I love a nice garage rock sound. But you seem to be enjoying the band onstage at the moment. I saw you doing some air drumming just there.

EK: Aye, they're loud and grungey. This seems like the appropriate setting for a gig like this. And yeah, look, even that guy was shaking to the beat! I wonder if you could mosh to this...

GKV: Don't let me stop you. But try and get a flyer first. I want to be sure about the line up before we publish this. For me, these guys are a little too metal - the intricate guitar solos, the serious vocals, the thudding bass, the sudden aggressive riffs. But I guess they do suit the venue pretty well. And they look like they sound - tough and uncompromising.

EK: Indeed. I think I've heard their vocalist before. Not entirely sure. Too bad there's not more  people here... It seems like a 'friend' audience to me. What do you think?

GKV: I just shat my pants as Derek McLuckie walked past in what appears to be a zombie military outfit. You might want to explain what you mean while I am wiping myself clean in the toilet...

EK: I meant that, judging by the number of people here, the audience seems to consist mainly of friends of the performers, although more and more people are joining the ranks. As for Mr. McLuckie, I saw him performing vocal exercises earlier. I wonder what he's doing tonight. Also I can see Calum Macaskill wandering around.... You've missed him.

GKV: Anyway, that's Dog Moon Howl rocking out on stage: I am not sure I'd agree about that. What I can see is an interesting  mixture. Dog Moon Howl are getting more metal, and this is very masculine music - I could see them sharing  a bill with the mighty Holy Mountain, as they have shades of that 1970s heaviness. But the audience is pretty balanced between men and women. I can see people I know from the theatre world and more obvious rock fans. And that's why we are here: to find out whether there is an audience for this kind of show.

EK: But Nights At The Circus? There is a variety of performers here, but I don't know whether I'd call it a 'circus'. Then again, they have some acrobats performing later, don't they?

GKV: Hey, you are the one checking out the acrobats. You'd know better than me... Give it time. It might be a reference to the Angela Carter novel - and it's more suggestive of a variety atmosphere than being about a traditional circus. Anyway, you like blues rock, so I imagine you are digging Dog Moon Howl...

EK: Indeed, it might be. I looked it up just now - it comes under 'speculative fiction'. No idea what that is. As for the atmosphere, I'd say I'm not the only one digging Dog Moon Howl. That guitar solo! Woof. Admittedly, I'm also impressed by Stereo's equipment, seeing as most gig-hosting  pubs I've been to tend to have bad acoustics.

GKV: Sorry, I just got distracted by that couple snogging in the corner.

I Have Known All Along and Pretended Not To Only Out of Weakness

It's clear. It's clear. It's clear. It's clear. It's clear and true. It's clear and true and true and clear that the critic is artist as every attempt to define the gap between art and response will end up lost... the critic responds and are we supposed to believe that the artist is responding to nothing but life itself is not generating the art and the critic comes from the same place... and considerations of form make the haiku and review and the poem all equal...

Another day another we'll look at what political and social considerations are at play that keeps me down, thinks Criticulous. But now we see the true and clear and good and holy even holy urge that strives both in Luke Sutherland as he trembles the strings of his guitar and Robin Masson as he rolls deep oceans through the cello's bow and the sweat of Tony Mills, and Chris Devaney's final loving swerve... the last thing we hear is laughter as the child spins...

Heading home

Shorts...

It's cooler in the corner. Criticulous can command a better view of the room. Mills is like a giraffe over there... tall, elegant. Emma has been dancing with a young child so long it is as if they are a symbol of a young woman still in touch with her childhood. The girl laughs as she chases Emma in circles. Beautiful doppler effect.

Daphne has another question... and the contact improvisation is working... she talks through Facebook... she responds to my responses...

I have a question though... your next post is titled 'meaninglessness and being'

but in life, as in art and criticism, all of us (intentionally or unintentionally) look for a purpose/meaning

so is art for the sake of art meaningless?