Jess and Didge discuss Christian Marclay's 'Clock' on BBC Radio Devon this afternoon:
Here
You'll catch us from about 11 minutes onwards.
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Monday, 17 October 2011
Platform P proposal?
I intend to build a small installation comprised of a mixture of found objects (bones, shells, dead plants...) and domestic items such as underwear and toiletries, which will fit into two small suitcases. These pieces will be displayed as if in situ within a fully furnished hotel room. The intention of this is to describe my own experience as an artist when I travel the coastline, and stay in various hotels (which I do in order to feed my own studio practice). In a way, the aim is to present a ‘nomadic studio’, containing objects of inspiration that I have personally collected, segments of my own writing, drawings and other visual pieces made by myself, as well as a few of my own personal belongings.

Thinking about writing a proposal.
Thinking about writing a proposal.
Saturday, 15 October 2011
Platform P Proposal
I don't have a title for this piece. I'll have to think of one, if it's accepted.
Proposal: Platform P
Jess Young
October 2011
Outline
From a collection of objects selected by myself which will comprise of a mixture of found items-bones, shells...-, my notebooks, scribbles and writing, and domestic items such as underwear and toiletries, I intend to make a small installation that can be packed away into two small suitcases. Intermittently throughout the day there will also be short performances by myself where I will interact with these objects; removing, arranging, packing and unpacking. With this piece, I explore my relationship with travelling, and invite an audience into my personal rituals, and to play witness to my ‘nomadic studio’ that travels with me. I am deliberately recreating, and re-enacting a familiar experience to me, and one that is repeated as I travel the coastline and collect objects and information that inspires my practice.
Plan
I will be bringing with me to D.O.C Hotel two suitcases containing all of the items that I need for this piece, and the first performance will begin with me unpacking and arranging my items in the morning. They will then be left as a static installation, which every two or three hours I will return to; to add or remove something, organise or categorize. I will continue this ritual throughout the day, and in the evening pack everything back into my two suitcases and take it away with me.
Requirements
I will need [part of] a furnished hotel bedroom, and will require a bed to place my objects on.
Lighting (no preference as to how light/dark)
Install/Getout
Objects can all easily be packed up and taken away with me. Nothing in the room will be damaged or affected, and the unpacking and packing will be part of the performance- no extra time required for disassembling.
Proposal: Platform P
Jess Young
October 2011
Outline
From a collection of objects selected by myself which will comprise of a mixture of found items-bones, shells...-, my notebooks, scribbles and writing, and domestic items such as underwear and toiletries, I intend to make a small installation that can be packed away into two small suitcases. Intermittently throughout the day there will also be short performances by myself where I will interact with these objects; removing, arranging, packing and unpacking. With this piece, I explore my relationship with travelling, and invite an audience into my personal rituals, and to play witness to my ‘nomadic studio’ that travels with me. I am deliberately recreating, and re-enacting a familiar experience to me, and one that is repeated as I travel the coastline and collect objects and information that inspires my practice.
Plan
I will be bringing with me to D.O.C Hotel two suitcases containing all of the items that I need for this piece, and the first performance will begin with me unpacking and arranging my items in the morning. They will then be left as a static installation, which every two or three hours I will return to; to add or remove something, organise or categorize. I will continue this ritual throughout the day, and in the evening pack everything back into my two suitcases and take it away with me.
Requirements
I will need [part of] a furnished hotel bedroom, and will require a bed to place my objects on.
Lighting (no preference as to how light/dark)
Install/Getout
Objects can all easily be packed up and taken away with me. Nothing in the room will be damaged or affected, and the unpacking and packing will be part of the performance- no extra time required for disassembling.
Friday, 14 October 2011
Nebula 2- Form or Function?
Form or Function?
By Jess Young
We are living in a time now where we can look back over the last 50 years, 100, 200, and see an undeniable and drastic change in art, and what qualifies something as an artwork. But where did this change come about? Was there a sudden snap when a young and free-thinking artist just said ‘no, I’ve had enough of this, let’s do something different!’, and others followed suit, or have we gradually become desensitised to the beauty and skill that’s associated with more representational, or for want of a better term, classical art, always demanding something new and exciting. Did we just get bored?
Because art has changed. Art is always changing, it always was, and everything had to be new once. But what is it that separates today’s contemporary art so much; what do these new things mean?
Now that British Art Show7 has arrived in Plymouth for the first time, we find ourselves confronted with art that is not necessarily easy for us to understand, and therefore not always the most appealing thing to expose ourselves to. This event which only travels the country every 5 years is supposed to be exciting, and we in Plymouth are very lucky to be one of the host cities. But if it is the case that it is only showcasing contemporary art that is produced to shock or confuse, then it might be an event that is hard for the general public to get enthusiastic about.
Much of our current contemporary art is often considered less aesthetic and beautiful than more classical art, and a lot of the time it’s very easy to say ‘well I could do better than that!’, and the simplest response is of course ‘but you didn’t’. However, a question that has to be posed here is that if contemporary art is lacking in this heavy visual surface that a lot of art once had, and that was considered key to art in the past; if it is lacking this, then isn’t what’s left just the meaning, and sentiment behind the work? And if this is the case, does that make it more important, if all it demands is an immediate cerebral reaction?
This could explain why it’s so easy to shy away from it. If you visit the National Gallery or Tate Britain in London, you can spend hours admiring and absorbing the skill, and take pleasure in the beauty of these works, and if you want, you can leave it at that, not questioning the history or story behind the work. Perhaps a lot of contemporary art doesn’t give you that option. And if you can’t immediately see what the piece is trying to put to you, then there’s nothing that you can take from it at all, making some art very difficult to engage with. Who wants art that has to be explained to you? If it doesn’t touch you on any visual or sensory level, is this really good art?
It’s a difficult question, because these are very bold statements, and of course only one person’s musings. And indeed the British Art Show is there to bring a wide range of British Contemporary art to people that might otherwise not have a chance to see it, and to make it more accessible to everyone, instead of just to people who have an art education.
This being said, however, what I have gathered from my own investigations of what people like to see in art, it has to be something that you can immediately engage with to make it enjoyable. The majority of people that I asked however, also felt that Art could be qualified as such providing that there was thought and meaning behind the work. Something relevant to today’s society, something that has social impact. If this is all that people require then I don’t think that there can be any doubt that this is what the 39 artists involved with the British Art Show are trying to communicate, and have been successful at doing so.
Myself, as an art student, a painter and a printmaker, engage with all kinds of art that doesn’t necessarily reflect what I do, and that spans all different times and movements. The art featured in the British Art Show, though it is somewhat new and alien, is just as important as every piece of work that has come before, and that was dismissed in the past. All we need to do here is consider artists like Van Gogh or Turner, who although are now considered by many as two of the greatest artists ever to have lived, were not successful in their times, and were in fact pooh-pooh’d by their audience and critics.
I think that after all of this, the only thing left for us to do is just visit the exhibition with an open mind and draw our own conclusions. It won’t be for everyone, but it might change some minds, and prompt some new thoughts about what art can be, about how we view the world around us. If we are to examine the title ‘in the Days of the Comet’ in the context of the exhibition, then we are to imagine these works as a bundle of alien material, ready to strike Earth and prompt a revolution; to alter our perceptions. The only question that we need to consider right now is; are you ready for your world to change?
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
George Shaw talk (08/10/11)
Last week I had the pleasure of going to see the very excellent George Shaw talk about his work and influences at Plymouth Arts Centre.

Shaw announced at the beginning that he intended only to discuss the three paintings that he is currently showing at BAS7 (Your End, Blocked Drain, The Next Big Thing), but that the idea was that this would open up to more and more things- other works along the same themes, inspirations, memories...
He spoke largely (and unsurprisingly) about growing up in the 1970s on a Coventry housing estate- about his influences being musicians like The Specials and Joy Division, his fondness for Millais, for ancient standing stones and especially for, in his words, "looking for that wilderness in the place that I grew up."
A recurring theme in Shaw's work is that of place, and of a changing place. Having heard him talk about the paintings he makes in the context of the place that he grew up, and revisiting these places when they have changed and moved on, you get the sense that making these paintings is almost a cathartic process for him (though he disagreed with this in the Q&A session). To make these paintings, he visits and revisits this council estate, takes thousands of photographs, and although this is not exclusively what he does, there are instances where he has made up his paintings from memories- e.g. for many of his 'Garage paintings', he stated that these garages had been long gone by the time he had made these.
In that sense, you feel almost a denial, or a feeling of unrest about these changes, however there are also many pieces where Shaw has actively documented these shifts with a sense of fascination; as in the case of the dozens of paintings of pubs that he has captured in varying stages of closure and demolition, trees being sawn down, and the eventual removal of his beloved garages.
The most exciting thing about George Shaw, is that he makes hundreds of these Tile Hill paintings that could so easily appear mundane. His palette is very muted, and he sticks to only a few colours of the Humbrol Enamel he uses to make these; the scenes that he paints are bleak and grotty, but he thinks that they are absolutely beautiful. And they are, and they are fascinating. There is something truly British and associable about them, which I suppose is what makes up much of George Shaw's appeal. But there's more than that still, because with these paintings of Tile Hill Council Estate, he summons the sounds of The Specials, and thuggish kids in turn-up jeans, and out-of-bounds places that you were supposed to steer well clear of when you were a kid. His work is so evocative, even without hearing him speak about it.
There is also a sadness with much of his work- especially with that made around the time of the death of his father, which makes itself very evident in many of his pieces. A feeling of things lost and left behind. He talked about it himself, of things being 'cut off', with you only being left to wonder what would have come next.
Despite this, George Shaw is an absolute pleasure; to listen to, and to speak with, which I had the fortune of being able to do after his talk. He laughs very freely and frequently at his own jokes, and at his associations and memories, and goes off on regular rants and tangents. At times it felt as though you could hear his mind working, even stood there as he went over works he must have talked about a hundred times. And the one thing that he said, if I had to pick just one, that really stuck with me, was right at the end. Just as he was leaving the building and I was dashing in to pick up a forgotten book I said how much I enjoyed his talk, and what he said was "it's just about cutting out the bullshit, isn't it?"
Shaw announced at the beginning that he intended only to discuss the three paintings that he is currently showing at BAS7 (Your End, Blocked Drain, The Next Big Thing), but that the idea was that this would open up to more and more things- other works along the same themes, inspirations, memories...
He spoke largely (and unsurprisingly) about growing up in the 1970s on a Coventry housing estate- about his influences being musicians like The Specials and Joy Division, his fondness for Millais, for ancient standing stones and especially for, in his words, "looking for that wilderness in the place that I grew up."
A recurring theme in Shaw's work is that of place, and of a changing place. Having heard him talk about the paintings he makes in the context of the place that he grew up, and revisiting these places when they have changed and moved on, you get the sense that making these paintings is almost a cathartic process for him (though he disagreed with this in the Q&A session). To make these paintings, he visits and revisits this council estate, takes thousands of photographs, and although this is not exclusively what he does, there are instances where he has made up his paintings from memories- e.g. for many of his 'Garage paintings', he stated that these garages had been long gone by the time he had made these.
In that sense, you feel almost a denial, or a feeling of unrest about these changes, however there are also many pieces where Shaw has actively documented these shifts with a sense of fascination; as in the case of the dozens of paintings of pubs that he has captured in varying stages of closure and demolition, trees being sawn down, and the eventual removal of his beloved garages.
The most exciting thing about George Shaw, is that he makes hundreds of these Tile Hill paintings that could so easily appear mundane. His palette is very muted, and he sticks to only a few colours of the Humbrol Enamel he uses to make these; the scenes that he paints are bleak and grotty, but he thinks that they are absolutely beautiful. And they are, and they are fascinating. There is something truly British and associable about them, which I suppose is what makes up much of George Shaw's appeal. But there's more than that still, because with these paintings of Tile Hill Council Estate, he summons the sounds of The Specials, and thuggish kids in turn-up jeans, and out-of-bounds places that you were supposed to steer well clear of when you were a kid. His work is so evocative, even without hearing him speak about it.
There is also a sadness with much of his work- especially with that made around the time of the death of his father, which makes itself very evident in many of his pieces. A feeling of things lost and left behind. He talked about it himself, of things being 'cut off', with you only being left to wonder what would have come next.
Despite this, George Shaw is an absolute pleasure; to listen to, and to speak with, which I had the fortune of being able to do after his talk. He laughs very freely and frequently at his own jokes, and at his associations and memories, and goes off on regular rants and tangents. At times it felt as though you could hear his mind working, even stood there as he went over works he must have talked about a hundred times. And the one thing that he said, if I had to pick just one, that really stuck with me, was right at the end. Just as he was leaving the building and I was dashing in to pick up a forgotten book I said how much I enjoyed his talk, and what he said was "it's just about cutting out the bullshit, isn't it?"
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